“Excuse me, thank you. Sorry,” she whispers. When she reaches Lillith, she bends down and asks, “Is this seat for Hendrick?”
Lillith glances up. “Of course not. It’s for you.”
Relief washes through Poppy. She sets her wine on the little table that pulls out from the chair armrest, and slips into the seat, balancing her bag of books between her sandaled feet.
“Where is he—Hendrick?” she asks. “I thought you said—”
“I’m not sure if he’s coming.”
“Do you know him? I mean, from before the cruise?”
“Why do you ask?”
Poppy notes that Lillith’s cheeks are flushed. And her eye glitters. She’s been drinking, that’s for certain, but she also appears ... oddly unsettled.
“Just wondering.” But before Poppy can probe further, the lights in the auditorium dim, the spotlights on the stage brighten, and the host interviewer, Sophia Kritikou, walks onstage. Applause erupts.
Poppy eagerly joins the clapping as she glances around the auditorium again. Still no sign of Arrabella. No Patrick. No Tan Man, either, thank heavens. She catches sight of Hendrick.
He’s seated. By himself. Right at the very back. Behind him, leaning against the wall and clutching a tablet against her body, is Roshaan. The lights over the audience go dark, and the applause swells as Dr. Gideon Marsh enters and crosses to one of two big leather chairs in the center.
Poppy’s attention is riveted back to the stage.
Dr. Marsh sits, and Sophia Kritikou takes the chair opposite him. On a low table between them is a pile of his books, a jug, glasses of water.
A hush falls over the audience.
Dr. Marsh looks magnificent—he’s everything Poppy expects from an old Quantico mind-hunting GOAT. She’s seen him on TV, but in person he’s more, and larger. He takes up space and radiates ease and confidence. Even from where she sits, Gideon Marsh has tangible presence.
“Welcome to our first Midnight Salon event. I’m Sophia Kritikou, and I’ll be your host for the evening.” Sophia is appealing, too—maybe mid-fifties. Midi skirt, pretty white blouse, hair tied back, loafers. “And please join me in a big welcome for Dr. Gideon Marsh.” She holds her hand out to him.
The crowd breaks into applause again.
He nods, smiles, his arms relaxed.
“Dr. Marsh—”
“Gideon, please,” he says. Pleasure ripples over Poppy’s skin at the gravelly sound of his voice. The whole trip is already worth it—just to see and hear him in person. She reaches for her wine, sips as she settlesdeeper into her seat, and allows the world to fade to nothing save Gideon on the stage.
Sophia smiles. “I’m sure everyone here already knows your backstory, but just in case, you first joined the FBI in 1969, right?”
He nods. “Yes, then I was very quickly sidelined after sustaining an injury in the field. I used my rehab period to earn a doctorate in abnormal psychology. It led to an invitation to join the FBI’s newly formed Behavioral Science Unit at Quantico.”
Sophia consults the notebook in her lap. “And from 1977 onward, you helped craft the foundations of modern criminal profiling. Your work has contributed to countless landmark investigations into serial offenders, and it’s been instrumental in developing nationwide—even global—protocols on serial homicide and victimology.” She turns to the audience.
“And, of course, as we know—it’s why we’re all here—Gideon now writes riveting bestsellers based on his work, and he lectures on the psychology of deviance. He lives in Los Angeles, and—” She turns to Gideon. “I believe your daughter, Sarah, and grandson, Carter, are traveling with you?”
“Sarah is here with me tonight, in the audience. Carter, of course, would love to be present, but he’s eight.” Gideon grins and raises a finger. “He does, however, fully intend to follow in my footsteps. In fact, he currently keeps a notebook—a running list of what he believes are suspicious things that warrant his investigation. He calls it theList of Suspicious Happenings to Be Investigated by Carter J. Frost.”
The audience laughs.
Poppy’s pulse kicks—the kid who bowled her over—he’s Dr. Gideon Marsh’s grandson. She saw that title on his notebook.
Sophia says, “Gideon, you’ve written several books, each focusing on specific serial killers, but your recent release—In His Grip: The Psychology of Women Who Sleep with Devils—is unlike the others in that it profiles the women who—either knowingly or unknowingly—enable their partners to kill. In some cases they even help lure or assist in thetorture and murders. What drew you to their stories? But”—her hand shoots up—“before you say ‘behind every successful killer’ ...”
Laughter erupts among the audience, and Gideon smiles.
“It was a pattern I saw emerging during my interviews over the years with men like Ted Bundy; Ed Kemper—the Coed Killer; Paul Bernardo—the Scarborough Rapist; Dennis Rader, the BTK killer—”
