Page 57 of Royal
After joking around with Royal that morning about the agent being a knockout, it was awkward being around him. I reminded myself that he was a studier of human behavior, not a damn mind reader. Even if he seemed like he could at times.
“The lieutenant wants me to talk to the reporters.” I clenched my fist at my side. “With the festival soon, he wants me to reassure everyone that the killer has probably moved on by now. What do you think I should say?”
I considered myself a great detective, but I wasn’t a profiler. I knew how to look at the facts, how to examine a case file, observe potential suspects, and make arrests based on that. What Agent Stone and his team did, though, I couldn’t do. They looked at the facts of a case and then made inferences about the criminal. They put themselves in the killer’s shoes and thought like him.
Part of catching the killer was identifying with him. Understanding his motives and what made him tick. I wasn’t too proud to admit they were way more experienced than me in that field.
“As much as I want to caution against it,” Agent Stone started before pausing, as if second-guessing himself, “this has the potential to benefit us. If you make a statement to the public, talk about the killer, even use the nickname the media gave him, it could anger him enough that he’ll be impulsive and possibly make a mistake.”
“In other words, pissing him off might be the only thing we can do to catch him?”
“If our profile is correct, yes,” he said. “He leaves no evidence behind, has no roots in the towns he passes through. This could give us an edge in the investigation.”
Worked for me.
“Shouldn’tyoutalk to the reporters?” I asked. “You know more about him than I do. What if I don’t say the right thing?”
Agent Stone gave a half-smile and put his hand on my shoulder. “You can do this, Detective Riley. Have faith in yourself.”
“Call me Grayson.”
He nodded. “Very well.”
In the end, we decided it’d be a good idea to hold a live press conference. It would be broadcast on the local news, so if the killer was still in Addersfield, there was a bigger chance he’d see it.
I ducked into the bathroom and checked myself in the mirror. My appearance was fine. It was more my composure I was worried about. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and everything Agent Stone and I discussed slipped from my mind. I wasn’t good at speaking in front of large crowds. I turned on the faucet and splashed water in my face before drying it with a paper towel.
Fuck. I needed Royal.
Grabbing my phone, I called him.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” I said before sharply exhaling. “Did you see the morning paper?”
“Yeah. How are you holding up?”
In the background was muffled talking, and I didn’t know if it was the TV or if he had someone over. Brysen was probably with him.
“I’m actually about to do a live press conference.” My shaky tone reflected my nerves. “Speech was my worst class in college, Charming. How the fuck am I going to do this?”
“Remember what I told you the last time you had a speech?” Royal asked. His voice calmed my frayed nerves. “It was the night before your presentation, and you were so nervous you broke out in hives.”
“Oh, I remember.” I could laugh about it now, but it’d been terrifying back then. “You told me to imagine everyone naked. But then I said there was a hot guy in my class, and if I imagined him naked while giving a speech, I’d pitch a tent in front of God and everybody.”
Royal laughed in my ear. “Okay, so maybe that advice sucks. But you can do this, Gray. I know you can.”
“Easy for you to say,” I said, staring at myself in the mirror. “You talk in front of people all the time.”
“Speak slowly. Give yourself time to pause if you need it,” Royal instructed. “Command your space, which I know you rock at. Face the audience, and avoid crossing your arms, because that’ll make you seem unapproachable.”
“Crossing my arms is my thing.”
“I know. And you wonder why people are afraid to talk to you.”
“Good point.” I sighed and moved a dark strand of hair out of my face. My short beard didn’t have any crumbs and looked nice. Not too long or unruly. I didn’t look like a wild lumberjack or anything. “Guess I better get out there.”
“Remember to breathe,” Royal said. “I love—er, um. Talk to you later.”
