Page 19 of There is No Devil

I flush. “It’s not the same.”

“No. What you ask is more dangerous … for both of us.”

I take several shallow breaths, no oxygen in the car. My brain races faster than my heart.

I don’t talk about my past with anyone.

And Cole is no therapist—he’ll use whatever I tell him to manipulate me. To gain even greater control.

On the other hand, we’re equally curious about each other. I want to know his history as badly as he wants to know mine.

Tit for tat. Pay to play. That’s how the world works.

Sighing, I say, “I’ll tell you what you want to know. But you have to tell me something first.”

Cole’s fingertips give one restless tap on the woolen thigh of his trousers. He weighs the offer.

“You can ask one question,” he says. “Not about Shaw.”

The devil always counters.

“Fine,” I say, so quickly that he narrows his eyes at me.

The silence stretches between us as I consider what he might answer fully and truthfully. And what I most want to know.

Finally, I ask:

“Who was the first person you killed?”

* * *

4

Cole

Istart the car, turning the wheel in the direction of Seacliff.

“Aren’t you going to answer me?” Mara asks from the passenger seat.

“I’m not just going to tell you … I’m going to show you.”

She falls silent beside me, watching the narrow roadways widen out as we leave her rundown neighborhood, venturing into the broad, tree-lined streets leading up to China Beach.

Tension builds in her body as each minute passes. Mara can’t help her curiosity, even when she’s afraid of what she might learn.

I rest my hand on her thigh to calm her.

It works—the tight muscle relaxes under my palm. She leans against my arm, her head resting on my shoulder.

I remember that Mara told me she doesn’t even have a driver’s license. In some ways she’s remarkably independent, but she has these holes in her education. Things she couldn’t teach herself, because nobody would lend her a car to practice.

Abruptly, I pull the Tesla against the curb.

Mara sits up. “What are you doing?”

“You’re going to drive us home.”

She sputters, holding up her hands. “I don’t even have a learner’s permit.”

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