Spooky Business (The Spectral Files #3) - S.E. Harmon Page 0,3
him like a piñata.
He could be kind of ornery that way.
“No one takes my power,” he finally muttered, shuffling backward a few steps. He didn’t sit down, but I allowed myself a tiny breath of relief. “And I don’t want to talk about this right now.”
“That’s fine,” I said evenly. “We’ll see how you feel after your bathroom break.”
I kept my back pressed firmly against the door, watching him carefully. I might’ve scored a point or two, but Mama didn’t raise no fool. It was another few minutes before I felt the heavy vibrations on my back as the mechanical lock was activated.
I glared at the two COs as they rushed into the room. I didn’t know their names, but I was comfortable just calling them Officer “Where The Fuck Have You Been?” and Officer “You Almost Got Me Killed,” respectively. And was that a smear of frosting in the corner of one of their mouths?
“Sit,” the blond one barked, pushing a bristly Kane back down in the chair.
They started securing him for proper transport. I stayed to remind him which of us was in control, and which one of us had to be restrained like a dangerous animal. From the color high in his cheeks and the resentment rolling off him like skunk fumes, he got the message. I didn’t let my guard down until they shuffled him out.
The tiny room suddenly seemed cathedral grand without his looming presence and threatening energy. “Christ,” I muttered.
Bee made a sound of displeasure. “Thomas Kane is not a man to be trifled with. He would’ve killed you, you know.”
My legs felt like cooked spaghetti. I leaned against the wall heavily, letting out a long breath like a deflated balloon. “I know.”
*
I used my short break to hit the head and then made a beeline for the vending machines. By the time I tossed my trash and went back to the interview room, Kane was already seated again, the two COs standing behind him with matching bored expressions.
I stood there with my arms folded, staring at him through the double-paned glass. Once again, I had to reestablish my dominance by making him wait. I wasn’t a man who enjoyed playing games, and the power struggle between us was abrasive as the tag in a cheap shirt.
A door down the hall buzzed open, and the rhythmic click of hard shoes on the tile sounded as someone approached. I didn’t turn, mostly because I knew exactly who it was. Graycie had been stalking me since Kane requested the interview, excited as a kid with a suitcase full of Skittles. He’d left me three text messages with emojis before I even arrived at the prison—this from a man who thought a smile and a frown used too many muscles.
He stopped beside me, and I turned slightly. He looked dapper and refreshed in a dove-gray suit and pink silk tie. His salt-and-pepper beard was neatly clipped, and he smelled good, like something woodsy.
I looked just as fresh and crisp… four hours ago. Now I was a wrinkled mess, the sleeves of my custom-tailored shirt sloppily rolled to my elbows and my tie askew. I’d run my hands through my hair about a zillion times, and the sharp creases my pants sported earlier were but a distant memory.
Graycie didn’t seem to mind. He gave me a once-over so thorough, I was tempted to request sexual harassment forms from HR. I narrowed my eyes at him, which he seemed to find amusing. “Something I can help you with?” I asked tartly.
“Nope.” He smiled. “How’re things going in there?”
“Splendid. We’re thinking about buying a timeshare together.”
“You knew he’d be a tough nut to crack.”
“Tough nut?” I snorted. “Is that what we’re coining that sociopath?”
“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to talk to that particular sociopath?” He stabbed a finger at the glass where Kane stared impassively in our general direction. “This is the baseline of our work, Christiansen. We talk to people like Kane to understand what makes them tick. That knowledge helps us interpret and develop data to find the next serial killer, and the next.”
He was preaching to the choir—I’d dedicated most of my career to that concept. I stretched until my neck popped and then dropped my arms with a sigh. “I know we were operating under the impression that he killed his wife, but he denies it.”