‘Well, you’ve only got two more months to shine,’ she says harshly. ‘I hope the fun was worth it.’
She turns and walks back toward the station box. Gets three paces away. Four –
‘Emma.’ Simon’s voice behind her.
She stops, as if arrested mid-flight. She wants him to think she’s angry; sheisangry.God, let this work.She’s abruptly aware that her energy reserves are low.
‘Please don’t go, Emma. You’ve only just arrived.’ Simon’s words are soft and echoey in the jail corridor. ‘I’m sorry I was discourteous. I can give you the information you need to find the College Killer’s newest abductee.’
Yes.Emma closes her eyes, waits a beat, opens them. Turns back. ‘Why should I believe you?’
Simon is standing from his chair now. He has stepped up to the bars, gripped them with his hands. The cell’s spotlight casts the planes of his face in sharp relief. Everything white about him – his skin, his hair, his long fingers – glows with overexposure.
‘Because you must.’ His eyes are gentle beneath his shadowed brows. ‘It’s branded into you, to return and try to save. You returned to Huxton’s basement for Vicki and Tammy. You return now for Linda...’
Simon tilts his head, with a slice of a smile.
‘And maybe, just a little, you return for me. You wonder, don’t you, if there’s a sliver of light remaining inside of me. But I’m not all bad, Emma. I’ll help you save this new girl.’
Emma forces herself to look open to persuasion, forces her taut muscles to relax. She is walking a fine line here. ‘I don’t know if I can trust anything you say.’ That’s certainly not a lie.
Simon spreads his hands. ‘And yet, here we stand – distrustful and dishonorable, both. It’s a kind of cosmic joke, isn’t it?’
‘I don’t like being used as a punchline,’ she replies flatly. But this is not a moment she can waste. She takes two considered steps back toward Simon’s cell. ‘You gave the FBI names. Those names led directly to arrests. The men arrested had copies of the Huxton videotapes.’
‘Naturally.’
‘So you had access to this world of “videotape collectors”.’
‘Why, yes,’ he acknowledges.
‘Did you make your own videotapes?’
‘Of course.’ He examines his nails. ‘I love new toys.’
Emma files that information before steeling herself. She can see the trajectory here. She has to do this, has to have this confrontation, but she’s afraid of it.Don’t stop now – keep going.
‘And you watched the Huxton tapes.’
‘Yes,’ he says.
It’s important that she doesn’t reveal how much this affects her, but it’s very difficult. She exhales, slow and even. ‘I should have known when you gave me that hokey prompt about the moving pictures.’
Simon bites his bottom lip, coquettish. ‘I’ve been waiting for you to realize. Then time began to grow short.’
‘And you figured you’d better turn things to your advantage before Linda Kittiko showed up dead.’
‘Well, Kristin informed me that Pittsburgh is a city of grand delights, so I simply couldn’t resist a visit …’ His grin falters. ‘It’s as you said, Emma – I have only two more months left to shine.’
‘Then tell me what you know, before the clock runs out.’ It’s running fast: she needs to be gone before Carter realizes she’s absconded, before Simon intuits she’s here without authority. She reins her impatience hard.
‘But if I tell you everything, what incentive do you have to come back?’ His expression becomes coy. ‘You might break up with me entirely.’
He imitates real emotion with disarming sincerity.Oh, Simon, you goddamn drama queen.She keeps her voice defiantly anodyne. ‘I guess you’ll just have to go on trust.’
Simon’s chin lifts. ‘You’re wrong, you know, about our connection. It’s not tarnished at all. We know each other too well. I’ve seen your strength in the face of adversity, I’ve heard you cry in pain—’
‘I don’t want to talk about that.’Too abrupt. Compensate.Stiffening her knees, Emma steps closer. ‘Tell me what you know, Simon.’
