“He was with me,” I reply, struggling not to infuse my words with venom. “We were both in the lab late on Friday. You came by my place Saturday morning. I was with him again Saturday evening, into the night. He left early in the morning to visit his mother on Sunday, and I heard from him on his way home.”

“So…you weren’t with him the entire time that weekend, correct? There were periods when you were alone?”

“Are you really doing this? Asking me if Dr. Sorensen is the fucking serial killer who murdered my family?”

Agent Hayes sighs, and to his credit, he does an admirable job of keeping his frustration in check. “Isobel—” I shoot him a death glare, realizing too late his use of my old name might have been a tactic to unnerve me and not a benign slip “—Kyrie, you need to understand there might be more to his interest in you than you think. He was in Ashgrove when you lived there. I know he came to West Paine before you, but Dr. Cannon said that Dr. Sorensen had plans to move at the time when you arrived. He wasn’t going to renew his contract with the university. And then you showed up, and that very same week he decided to change course and stay.”

“Surely you had a profile of the killer you were looking for,” I say, using every ounce of self-control to sound genuine and not sarcastic. “Does Jack have anything to do with that profile whatsoever?”

“Profiles are not built and set in stone, Kyrie. They are refined with the evidence that comes to light as the case evolves.”

“I can’t help but notice that you didn’t actually answer my question, Mr. Hayes. Since we’re not beyond making assumptions, it seems, I’ll assume that Jack does not in fact fit the parameters of your profile for the Silent Slayer. Instead, you’re inferring Jack’s viability as a suspect on the fact that we lived in the same city and that he happened to visit a chronically ill relative in the same state as a murder victim.”

Hayes leans forward, just a little, as though he’s imploring me to see something that I’m blind to. “You could be in significant danger. You said in your police reports that the Slayer was wearing a mask when he attacked,” he presses, not knowing I lied so easily to authorities to protect my angel of vengeance. “Can you be sure it’s not Dr. Sorensen?”

“Yes, I can be sure. It’s not the same man.”

“You suffered an extremely traumatic event that has negatively impacted your mental health, and he could be using that to his advantage. Is it possible you’re being manipulated?”

I’m seething. Burning. I want to tear his trachea from his throat, but I can’t eliminate the only leverage I have. The one where Hayes believes I could only ever be a victim.

Hayes takes one step closer. There’s a steely determination in his eyes that wasn’t there before. A predatory gaze.

I take a step back.

“What you went through back in Ashgrove was exceptionally difficult, Kyrie. It must have had a significant and lasting impact on your psychological well-being.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you. You’ve read the evaluations I was forced to undergo until I aged out of state care.”

“Of course I did. It was my job.”

Was.

I catch my tongue between my molars to keep from spilling my thoughts. Blood threads across my tastebuds.

“You can tell me, Kyrie.”

“Mr. Hayes, this is a dangerous leap of spurious claims—”

“You must feel very alone and confused,” he says, inching closer. “If you just tell me the truth, I can find a way to help you. We can—”

“Good afternoon, Agent Hayes,” a voice says from the doors, the timbre deep and smooth.

It’s pure menace disguised beneath a thin veil of civility.

Hayes and I both look toward the back of the room where Jack emerges from the shadows, his hands buried deep in his pockets as he slowly descends the first few steps of the aisle between the tiered seating. “I certainly hope you’re not cornering my girlfriend alone in a lecture hall,” he says.

Jack gives me a devastating grin, and my heart tumbles through my chest.

He’s as beautiful as sin. As lethal as a sword.

And sometimes, his timing is complete shit.

I can tell by the way Jack’s gaze slides between me and Hayes that he only caught part of the conversation, the part where it sounds like Hayes is trying to get me to confess to murder. He looks ready to eviscerate Hayes and smear his entrails across the lecture hall.

Hayes clears his throat and straightens, lifting the pressure of his encroaching presence. “Dr. Sorensen. Good to see you again. I would never do anything to make Kyrie feel threatened in such a manner.”

“Really…” Jack keeps glancing at me as though asking a question, but it’s not for confirmation of Hayes’s assertion.

It’s as though he’s asking me permission to kill.

And I know in that instant, with absolute certainty, that he would do it.

He would revel in it. He would never take his eyes from mine as he sliced through flesh and spilled blood across the floor. He would fuck me in the sticky warmth. He wouldn’t stop until I was screaming his name.

The power to command one of the most lethal predators on the planet rests in my scarred palm. And the temptation is intoxicating.

I press my nails harder into my skin and give Jack a nearly imperceptible shake of my head.

Jack’s eyes narrow as they sharpen on Hayes and remain there. “Did you ask Kyrie if that’s how she felt? Or did you just assume she was comfortable being alone with an unfamiliar man in a soundproofed room?”

Hayes glances at me as I slide my laptop bag off the table and take another step back. “In case you need a reminder, Dr. Sorensen, I am a law enforcement agent. I was doing my job, asking her details related to a recent murder investigation,” Hayes replies, avoiding the question of my comfort altogether. As Jack descends the last steps and rounds the podium to stop beside me, Hayes puts his hands on his hips, pushing back the hem of his brown suit jacket in a purposeful display of the gun holstered at his side. “She tells me she was with you the weekend before last, is that correct?”

“Yes. It is.”

“The whole weekend?”

“Nearly.”

“Except for when you crossed state lines on Sunday morning.”

“Correct.”

“What reason would you have to do that, exactly?”

“To visit my mother at Hope Springs Medical Institute.”

“And Kyrie didn’t go with you?”

“No.” Jack’s eyes darken for a flash but he knows better than to lie, even if he hates this truth. “I called her on my way home. She’d just gotten in from a run with her dog.”

Actually, I’d just gotten home from taking Cornetto to check on Colby at the cabin, but I’m not about to correct him.

There’s a moment of taut silence, stretched thin until I’m desperate to fill it, a void where there should be voices. I know better than to give a man like Hayes more answers than he’s asked for, but the silence still claws and burrows into my brain like vermin.

“I will endeavor to take Kyrie with me next time, if that appeases you,” Jack says in his cool, confident tone, as though he knows I can’t stand the quiet much longer. I resist the urge to groan at how Hayes might take his words.

The former agent advances a step and I slide my hand into Jack’s, the motion snagging Hayes’s attention. “If you’ll excuse us, we have a budget meeting in the Bass research building in ten minutes,” I say as Jack pulls my bag from my grasp, his other hand tensing around mine. “Have a good day, Mr. Hayes.”

Hayes gives a tight nod but says nothing further as we stride away.

I don’t look back, but I know he’s watching.

Jack and I remain silent as we exit the building, our hands still clasped, even when we’re outside and the blast of icy air hits our exposed skin. All pretense could be swept away by the wind. But I hold on, at least until I can coil my newly forming plans around myself, the wisps and threads of spinning thoughts as fine and strong as spider silk.