They have to send the other orderly down to fetch Kristin back, in the end. When the girl returns, she’s smiling, but she doesn’t look happy.
Her eyes appeal to Emma. ‘Are you sure I couldn’t have just a few more minutes—’
‘I’m sure.’ Emma’s tone gentles. ‘We don’t want to miss the plane.’
Getting out of the building is easier than getting in. Then there is McCreedy, waiting for them in the parking lot. They have to hightail it to Philadelphia International. The flight attendant holds the door for them, and they’re the last passengers to board.
When Kristin goes to the bathroom soon after takeoff, Travis feels it’s the right time to speak. ‘Look, I need to apologize. What I said to you in Pittsburgh was outta line—’
‘Stop.’ In the aisle seat on his left, Emma has turned to face him. ‘Stop apologizing for things you have no control over. You’re reactive about Simon Gutmunsson, for completely legitimate reasons. I knew that, and I pushed. Then I got angry when you pushed back, which … wasn’t fair.’
Her directness is always so disarming. He blinks at her. ‘I’m sorry I got mad.’
‘Me too.’ She gives him one of those tiny, soft-lipped smiles that always feel like a gift. ‘Let’s forget about it.’
‘Okay.’ He says that, but there’s something about this exchange that he doesn’t want to forget. He’s not sure where this sensation is coming from, so he redirects onto safer paths. ‘Did you get anything out of Gutmunsson about the posing?’
‘Yes,’ she confirms.
‘Then I guess it was worth it.’ He pulls his shirt collar away from his neck. ‘I still don’t know how you can stand to talk with him.’
Emma squints at the seat back in front of her. ‘I have to prepare myself mentally – get in the right frame of mind.’
Travis is still struggling with the idea. ‘Don’t you ever get overwhelmed?’
Her head turns and she holds his gaze. ‘Every single second. When I’m in there, I’m always aware of what he’s doing. Of where I am. Of how he looks at me, and what he says. I’m trying to take in everything at once, and there’s always this pressure in the back of my mind – the knowledge of his history, and the weirdness of knowing he let me live, back in June …’ She looks away and shivers. ‘It’s exhausting, but you have to be that alert. You always have to remember what he is. And what you are.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Prey.’ Emma looks Travis right in the eye. ‘We’re just prey to him.’
‘But he could have killed you at St Elizabeths, and he didn’t.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ She shakes her head. ‘Inconsistency is his only consistent feature. He let me live in June, he seems to like talking with me, but he could change his mind. He’s just playing with me, like a cat with a mouse. He’s playing with all of us. That’s all we are to Simon. Potential victims. That’s all he thinks about.’
Travis feels the skin on the back of his neck crawl. ‘Even still?’
‘Always.’
Kristin returns from the bathroom, so that’s where the conversation ends.
The cabin is dark – Travis registers for the first time that it’s late, nearly 10:30PM. The flight’s only an hour; soon they’ll be back in DC, but then they still have to drive another hour to Quantico. Travis’s exhaustion hits him hard all of a sudden. He’s glad McCreedy’s going to be behind the wheel once they disembark: Travis doesn’t think he’d trust himself not to run their bureau car off the road.
On his right, Kristin leafs through a magazine. At left, Emma is quiet. A few minutes later, he notices her eyes blinking. Her chin drops, jerking up immediately. She rests her seat back. He does a slow count to thirty, and when the cabin gently tilts as the plane banks, Emma’s head settles onto his shoulder.
Her breathing is deep and even, but she makes little twitches that he can feel through his suit jacket. Travis finds his own breathing coming in low and quiet. He doesn’t want to wake her. He trains his gaze resolutely forward for as long as he can, before an undefined urge gets the better of him, and he looks down.
This is the third time Travis has seen Emma in repose. Her skin is very pale, and her cheek looks soft. The main thing he notices is that Emma doesn’t sleep slack-jawed and vulnerable. She looks like herself, except with her eyes closed.
CHAPTER TWELVE
It must be nearly one in the morning by the time they all arrive back at Quantico, but Kristin feels surprisingly awake.
What a day it has been! First, the shock of the helicopter, then the busywork in Pittsburgh, an antidote to the sadness she feels whenever she thinks about the murders. She’s noticed how the police avoid personalizing the victims, sticking to anonymous phrases like ‘Victim One’ or ‘the second victim’ or ‘the third case’. But Kristin remembers all their names. To her, they are Geraldine and Marilyn and Patricia, and each of them was a girl, a unique girl, whole and complete and alive.
Kristin wants to be the someone who remembers the details about them when all the other details are smeared together by the ‘victim’ moniker. Emma’s presence is a reminder that if the bureau moves quickly, more unique girls may be saved.
But Kristin won’t think about that now. Instead, she contemplates the day’s final, best surprise: the opportunity to see Simon.
