“Are youtryingto get them to take away your bed?” he said incredulously.
There was something unreadable about her face as her expressions shifted from one to another, like the shapes of clouds before a thunderstorm. “Are these really the questions you came here to ask me today?” she asked.
Bruce’s gaze went to her slender white fingers as she began to weave the loose ends of her braid tight again. “Why are you talking to me?” he asked. “You haven’t said a word to anyone in months.”
“Ah.” Madeleine’s smile widened. “That’s more like it.” She tossed her braid casually over her shoulder, the weave loosening once more into a sea of waves, and yawned. “They gave you a new uniform today, didn’t they? Your first one was too big on you, and a slightly different shade of blue. Did your supervisors have a change of heart? It took them weeks to finally hand you a better-fitting one.”
Bruce glanced down at his clothes.Hehadn’t even noticed the difference. How long had she been watching him? “Good eye,” he said, looking back up at her.
She beamed at him, seeming genuinely pleased. Then she said, “I hope the police heard that through the wire you’re wearing. They have a bad habit of talking to me like I’m a fool.”
She knows about the wire. How?
Bruce cursed inwardly. He should’ve known better, actually; in fact,Dracconshould have. As he fought to keep his expression calm, Madeleine just kept her steady stare on him, waiting for his reaction. There was no point in denying it.You’re clumsier than I remember,she’d said to him just moments earlier. He’d thought she was referring to his dropped mop handle, but now he thought that perhaps she’d been talking about the wire all along.
At least now Draccon had heard proof of her speaking to him.
“How did you know?” he asked.
“You’re here on the wrong day. You’re speaking slightly louder to me than before, because you’re trying to make sure the mike you’re wearing is picking up your voice. Your posture is off from our last talk—you’re leaning forward to the left and craning your neck just a little toward the mike. You’re left-handed, aren’t you? And your mike is in your left shirt pocket, isn’t it? I figured as much, from the way you’ve been cleaning.”
His voice. His posture. His dominant hand. Bruce stood there for a moment, rendered speechless. She was right, of course, on every count.
Madeleine’s brow furrowed in disappointment at his expression. “Well. If I was unsure before, I’m definitely sure now. Everything about your face screams that I’m right. You’re like a goddamn open book.”
Bruce cast her a sidelong glare. “Maybe you’re too confident.”
She stretched lazily, looked away, and took a step toward her bed. “You’re boring me,” she said with a sigh.
Protect yourself.Draccon’s warning came back to him again, and this time it took on a new importance. He wondered what Draccon was thinking right now as she listened to the interrogation.I need to do something, and quick.If he didn’t, he might lose Madeleine’s trust entirely and put an end to his questioning.
On a whim, Bruce reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out the square wire. If Draccon could speak into his ear, she’d probably be yelling right now. Bruce held the square up to the window so that Madeleine could see, and then threw it far down the hall. He reached into his pants pocket, yanked out the recorder, and tossed that away, too.
“There,” he said, holding both of his hands up. “You caught me.”
Madeleine’s expression didn’t change—much. But her eyebrow lifted just enough to let Bruce know that she hadn’t expected him to blow his cover so readily. He’d surprised her.There’s no point in doing any of this if she doesn’t trust me.
“I think we’re done for today,” she said, but a smile still lingered at the corners of her lips. Then she sat on her bed and lay down sideways.
“Hey—” Bruce held up a hand. His irritation came spilling out with his words. “Wait a sec. You spoke to mefirst,long before I ever caught the attention of the police. I never initiated any of this. You always knew that if you spoke to me, the police would approach me and wire me up to come back and talk to you. And now you’re telling me that we’re done here. What was the point of all that?”
“I wanted to see if you were worth talking to,” Madeleine calledout.
“And?”
But she didn’t reply again.
Bruce took a step closer to her window, so that he now stood barely a foot away. He’d withstood countless paparazzi cameras trained on him. He’d managed to persuade Draccon to involve him in an actual case. But somehow, here, he found himself having trouble thinking of what to say next to this girl, no longer sure of what she knew or how she knew it, whether she was figuring out new things about him even at this very moment, whether she was playing a game with him. Whether she was thinking of ways she could kill him, were she free. The photos of the three murders flashed through his mind.
What category did she belong to? He didn’t even know where to begin.
Maybe he really was done here. Draccon would have no use for him if Madeleine wouldn’t talk to him. Bruce stared at her for a moment longer, as if she might turn around to look at him again—but she just stayed where she was, her eyes now closed in some illusion of sleep, her hair spilling behind her like a dark ocean.
Right as he was about to leave, Madeleine shifted, tucking her hands behind her head on her pillow. “You’re not like the others,” she said.
He froze. Turned back around. “What do you mean?”
“Imean,” she continued, “they interrogate me because it’s their job. Why doyoudo it? It’s not like you need the paycheck.”
