Page 41 of Pure Killers

"Cyanide?" he asks.

I remember her cut-off scream, the waterfall of glass. My lips tighten. "No,” I tell him, but don’t give him more detail. “She was the one who switched the pills, wasn't she? Or was she the one that picked the victims?"

His jaw works. "We did everything together."

My gaze narrows. "She must have been pretty mad at me, then. When she came to visit you a week ago."

Only staring back at me, he says nothing. I know he's trying to work out what happened, why I'm not dead and she is. How the Needler got involved. But to say anything is as good as admitting to attempted murder. That would land him in a place worse than this. Lethal injection, maybe. "She didn't mention it," he says flatly.

Dirk arrives then, but it takes Greg another few minutes to take his eyes off me. I feel slimy under his gaze and have trouble tuning into the standard questions Dirk is pressing him with. Did Sharna mention being followed, and did she have any connection to the politics… etcetera. But I don't need to be following closely to gather from Dirk's expression as we leave that this was largely a waste of time.

"Just another dead psycho with connections to a live one," he says the minute we step out of the facility.

***

"For pities sake,what?"

"What?"

Dirk shrugs, opening his palms against the steering wheel. "You keep staring at me, El. I'd be flattered except that I feel like you're lookingforsomething."

God, have I been that obvious? I look away, though that’s not much help now. "Sorry. I haven't been sleeping well."

"And that’s suddenly a problem just now?"

"What if Needler, Cocooner, any of them that we can't catch? What if they're closer than we think? And I don't mean the conspiracies of Tristan being Cocooner, but among us, now."

We're stopped at a light. Dirk fixes me with a look. "You know, I'd almost think you were suggesting I was one of them if that wasn't totally bat-shit."

I look away. "Not you." Except yes, definitely him. "I just feel like we're missing something."

"Personally, I'm missing a sunny beach and bottomless margaritas."

I roll my eyes. Same old Dirk. "You'd burn to a crisp in like a minute. You're better off here."

"Did I not mention the bikini-clad beauty to rub sunscreen all over me?"

I snort. "You'd still find a reason not to like her enough."

Not disagreeing, Dirk shoots me a look, then breaks into a grin. "Probably, yeah."

***

I can hardly sleep that night. Needler's last visit is with me still, a mix of guilt and guilty pleasure. And his words. That wasn't our deal, just a precursor. The deal will be much more involved. I kept expecting to wake up to his shape in the corner. And then…

Come an overcast morning, and the dim light working its way through my blinds, I’m horrified to find myself disappointed that nothing happened. Just because it means another sleepless night, I tell myself.

All this just to mean that I'm not the best lunch date for poor Seb. We get crepes near the station, some place where the ice cream is already half-melted by the time they bring the plate out. It’s started to rain again. I watch the water droplets work their way down the fogged window. "N-no luck on your case?"

I blink, coming back to the present, to the man I should be thinking about. "Not really, no."

"When will he be… you know, n-next?"

I blow air out through my mouth. “He hasn’t been on schedule much lately. We've got a month, or three, if he's sticking to absent-moon nights, which he appears to be. But he's just too careful. You'd thinksomethingwould have matchedsomeoneby now, with the amount he's done."

"Like Cocooner. They k-keep getting away with it."

I rub my forehead. "Yeah. Arguably worse things, too." I'd almost forgotten their deadline was coming up soon, too. Another wrapped-up body hung from the rafters somewhere. Or will they have wings this time? I should talk to Dean to see how they're doing on the case.

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