do you mean?”
“Your victims are random, no pattern to them, no group. Other killers I’ve read about choose similar victims. Whether age, sex, sexuality, profession…”
Romeo shrugged. “It wasn’t about them, it was about my own need.”
Holly wrote something down, then covered it with her arm. “I always thought you might have been looked at differently if you’d gone after bad people.”
“Bad people?”
“Yeah, if you’d have targeted other killers, you’d be like an antihero.”
“Why would I kill other people like me? We’re family.”
“A family?”
“Yeah, we’re a separate species from the rest of you.”
“All murderers?”
Romeo rolled his eyes. “Anyone can kill. Jealousy, anger, money, accidentally, but those people aren’t my family. The killers who have the need in their heads, the desire to end life, I’m a member of that. We’re the bad, the rest of you are the good.”
“We’ve gone through this. You weren’t born bad.”
Romeo sighed. “I was thinking more about Trisha Nobel, the woman I didn’t kill.”
“And?”
“Trisha had a kid—”
“Yes,” Holly interrupted “And it bothered you that her son would grow up without his mother.”
“No, I went upstairs, and his bedroom door was open—”
“You saw him and changed your mind.”
Romeo huffed. “You gonna let me finish or what?”
“Sorry, go on.”
“He was awake in bed, drowsy, but awake. He saw me, even asked if I was the boogie man,” Romeo smirked, remembering. “And I pointed at my face and said, “would the boogieman look this good?” I didn’t kill Trisha because her son saw me, he would’ve been able to describe me to the police, not a good start for my countdown.”
“How do I know you didn’t just make up that story in your cell.”
“Why the hell would I do that?”
“A defense mechanism, you’re trying to push me away.”
Romeo knocked his head back and groaned at the ceiling. “I tell you what happened, and you don’t want to believe it.”
“Your whole life you’ve pushed people away after the way you were treated.”
“I had a great life. I’ve lied to you about all the bad stuff. My parents loved me, I had friends, a great job.”
“No, you’re in denial.”
“Jesus Christ, you are. Close your eyes and listen to the words coming out my mouth. I enjoy killing people. I feel nothing for them, or their families. I always felt the urge, the craving, but I didn’t do it while my parents were alive, didn’t want to destroy their image of a perfect son.”
“You must’ve cared about them?”
He had no desire to end the lives of his parents. They brought him into the world, looked after him, spoiled him, and unbeknownst to them, taught him to use his mask to manipulate.
“I didn’t want them to know about the monster, and they never found out.”
“If they were here now, how do you think they would’ve felt?”
“They would’ve tried to look for a reason, blamed it on something else, just how you’re doing.”
“You must care about something—someone.”
“The only person I care about is…”
Romeo caught himself just in time.
“Is?”
“Myself.”
Holly started to pack her things. “It’s obvious today’s not a good day for you.”
“This is the last time you’re gonna see me.”
Her lips popped open. “What?”
“I’m done with the visits.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“You’ve got what you need to write your feature article.”
“But you need me.”
Romeo scrunched up his face. “I don’t.”
“You said so yourself. I help with the boredom.”
“You did at first, but now you just annoy me.”
“Annoy you? See, I’m helping you unlock your emotions. The ones you claim not to have.”
“I have emotions, just not the ones you’re looking for. I don’t regret what I did. That’s your ending.”
“I can keep our visits going.”
“No. You crossed the line when you confronted Chad.” Romeo got to his feet and looked over to Fred. “I want to go back to my cell.”
“Okay, let’s go.”
“Wait … don’t.”
Fred opened the door for him, and he began the march down the corridor. He passed Justin cracking his knuckles and gave him a smile. His growl of anger drowned out Holly’s panicked begging spinning in his head.
“Why did you do that?” Paul asked.
Romeo looked over his shoulder at him. “I thought you’d be happy.”
“You’ve upset her, why would that make me happy?”
“You got a soft spot for her, haven’t you?”
“Shut up. All you had to do is sit there and answer her questions.”
“I was answering, she wasn’t listening. The same questions over and over. She’s obsessed.”
“No, she’s not. She’s professional.”
“She’s no more a professional than Justin’s a professional boxer.”
Justin rattled his bars. “Come closer an’ say that.”
“Next time maybe.”
Fred pushed