“Still no word on Davenport?”
“No. He’s still MIA. Hasn’t been to work in three days. That tells me right there that he’s on the move. In California. Only I haven’t been able to track down any recent airline tickets he’s purchased or flights he’s taken out of the Charleston Airport. Of course, he might have driven to a more remote airport, and I’m checking on that, but it’s going to be a while before I can track down that kind of information.”
“What will happen once he’s caught? Assuming these murders are linked to him, of course.”
“He’ll be tried for his criminal acts. He’ll go to jail. Where he won’t be able to hurt anyone anymore.”
The notion shouldn’t have bothered her, but it did. Just a little. And maybe it was wrong, but she vocalized that fact. Someone like Lester Davenport belonged in a hospital rather than prison. “So he’ll be locked up the same way anyone would? Someone who killed for pleasure rather than out of grief?”
She literally felt Simon withdraw from her.
Stiffly, he said, “It doesn’t matter why someone kills. What matters is making sure they don’t kill again.”
“Oh, really. So you don’t believe in self-defense?”
He scowled at her. “That’s different and you know it.”
“No, I don’t. A person acting in self-defense is acting to protect his body. A person acting out of a psychotic break is acting to protect his mind. To protect the reality as he perceives it. Both are acting out of character. Granted, if a person is dangerous, the public needs to be protected, but jail isn’t always the answer. Sometimes a hospital is the right choice. But to lock someone in jail for—”
“I can’t believe you’re going here, Nina. People don’t act out of character. Our actions are our character.”
Nina pulled back from him. “Even someone whose brain is releasing the incorrect chemicals or a disproportionate amount of chemicals, thereby telling them to do something completely out of their own character? If that’s true, then you have a lot more to learn about mental illness than I thought.”
“Maybe. But you seem to be saying that all mentally ill people should be given a pass. Even if they do something awful, like kill a cat. Or a human being.”
“That’s not what I said,” she snapped out. “And not what I meant. Despite everything, sometimes you can’t fight where you come from. Who you’re born to be. People can do their best to help you, but it’s not always enough.”
“So you admit some people are unredeemable, then?”
Nina grabbed the wine bottle and took a long drink. “Sociopaths. Psychopaths. Their brains aren’t misfiring—they’re people who were born or made broken. No medication can fix them.” She handed him back the bottle and her face grew sad. “Contrary to what you might think, I don’t believe in miracles for everyone. Some things, including the way a person thinks, can’t always be changed. That’s the saddest thing of all.”
It was apparent from the way she looked at him and her tone that she was talking about him. From the look on his face, he got the message loud and clear.
* * *
THEY DIDN’T TALK FOR nearly an hour.
They just sat, staring at the ocean and occasionally drinking wine.
Eventually, he turned to her and said, “I’m sorry. I was hoping coming here would make you feel better. Instead, you’re angry with me.” Still, having her be angry with him was infinitely preferable to her being upset or blaming herself for something she’d had absolutely no control of.
“It’s not your fault,” she said. “You’re a straight shooter, remember? We’ll just never see eye to eye on this issue, will we?”
“I don’t think so.” And that was something he truly regretted. He liked Nina and respected her—far more than he’d ever thought possible—and he didn’t want her to think otherwise. Not anymore. Even more than that, he was attracted to her. If he’d met her under any other circumstances, he’d bed her and even date her until their time together petered out on its own. Unfortunately, it was obvious they strongly disagreed about core things with respect to human behavior, and what could be excused away and what couldn’t. It was also obvious that those disagreements would make any type of long-term, intimate relationship between them difficult, if not impossible.
That wasn’t just presupposition on his part—he’d loved Lana, but that love hadn’t been enough to keep them together, in large part because they’d disagreed about the same types of issues that he