Page 83 of The Twenty (Major Crimes)

Cole laughs. “And ruin the fun so early? Before we’re done?”

“You’ll never get to twenty, Elijah. We’ll stop you way before then.”

He shakes his head. “The arrogance. The confidence. I envy you, DCI Bishop. I was like you, once. I thought I could do anything. And to some extent, I could. But I couldn’t control her, could I? In the end, my overconfidence in my daughter was why I ended up in here. Coward that she is.”

“Romilly is one of the bravest people I know.”

Cole scoffs. “You think it takes bravery to call the police? To do the right thing?” His tone is mocking and scornful. “The real bravery is demanding to live your life how you want it, against all laws of the land and humanity and morality. I knew keeping those women was wrong. But I wanted it, so I did it. How many people do you know are able to live their life exactly how they please?”

“And now look at you,” Adam replies. “Stuck in jail.”

“But they’re in here.” Cole taps on his forehead with one finger. “My girls. Exactly what they did. What I did to them. I’ll never be alone again. They’re mine. Forever.”

Cole closes his eyes for a second and smiles, as if demonstrating to Adam. Adam swallows down the disgust, the hatred. If he has to listen to this filth to get to Pippa’s killer, then so be it.

Cole opens his eyes again slowly. “Did the police ever work out what I was doing with the cages?” he asks.

“You locked them in there.”

Cole laughs. “Yes, but why? It was more than simple imprisonment.” He pauses, looking at Adam. “Tell me, what would you do? If you could do anything in the world to a woman. What would you choose?”

Adam remembers Ellie last night and instantly feels sick. He shakes his head. “I’m not like you.”

Elijah raises his eyebrows. “Are you sure? A hot-blooded young man like yourself.” He leans forward again, his voice low and whispered. “If no one would find out? What are your deepest darkest desires, Adam Bishop?”

Adam turns away, pushing his seat back to put distance between them.

Elijah scowls. “That’s the problem with the younger generation. You lack the imagination.” He folds his arms across his chest, half closing his eyes. “I’ll share one from me, just for you. The cages.” He opens his eyes again, ensuring he has Adam’s attention. Adam pushes his hands into fists, holding himself back. “Three different sizes. If they were good, if they satisfied me properly—let me fuck them the way I wanted, didn’t fight, didn’t misbehave—then they could have a bigger cage. And I’d let them out sooner. Maybe only keep them in for four hours, five. But if they didn’t …” He laughs and Adam feels bile churn in his stomach. “Each rebellion added an hour. Grace, she was a fighter. Swore, shouted, screamed. Tied her up, but I don’t like it when I have to force them. I like them to agree, to nod their pretty heads and lie still while I fuck them. And Grace? I had to work hard to break her. Put her in the smallest cage once for a whole twenty hours. Day and night. She couldn’t move, all scrunched up in a ball, naked. Do you know what that does to the human body?”

Adam looks toward the door. Where the fuck is the guard? Why are they still alone in here? But Cole is hardly noticing Adam now, his gaze fixed in the middle distance. “Muscles cramping, metal chafing through her skin. No sleep. No food, no water. Except for the bucket I dumped over her head, left her shivering, crying, begging. I asked her then: “Will you let me now, Grace?” And even when she nodded, I left her for another twenty hours. To really make sure.”

Elijah looks up now at Adam, who can’t keep the look of disgust from his face. But Elijah doesn’t seem to care. “When I let her out she couldn’t stand,” he continues. “Could only crawl across the floor. Her joints screaming with pain, bleeding, desperate.” He laughs. “She sucked my dick then, I’ll tell you. I had no more crap from her. Not that day, not ever. Not until she died. That control, it’s better than anything else in the world. Especially when you’ve been so starved for it as I was as a child. Wouldn’t you like that, DCI Bishop?” he asks. “That control. For a woman to be that compliant?”

“No. No, I wouldn’t,” Adam says. He’s heard enough. This man’s a void, functioning on his own best guesses of emotion. The self-serving charm, the mimicry of warmth and intimacy. An arrogant narcissism he can’t help but feel lurking in his own psyche.

He’ll find the killer himself. He’ll go back to the station, and they’ll find him and they’ll arrest him, without this mad man’s input. He stands up, moving away from the table, desperate to put distance between them.

But before he leaves, he turns.

“We know what you did, Elijah,” Adam says, spitting the words out with anger. “You killed four women, kidnapped and tortured a fifth. You’re fucked up, ill, mentally deranged, yes. But you’re not special. You’re not even exceptional when it comes to serial killers—there’s been far worse than you. And you’re locked up for life. You’ll never see the light of day again.”

Adam tries the handle, but it’s locked. He bangs on the door: once, twice. He hears the scrape of the chair on the floor as Elijah stands.

“What are we at now, Adam?” he says, his voice intimidating. “Pippa was number nine, right?”

Cole takes a step toward him. Adam can hear footsteps marching down the corridor outside.

“That leaves us, what? Eight to go?”

“Fuck you, Elijah,” Adam whispers. “You’ll never get that far.”

He takes a step away, his back now pressed against the hard door. He hears metal being inserted, locks being pulled back, and he turns, pulling at the handle. But at the same time he hears soft footsteps. He has an awareness of Elijah standing behind him. He tries the handle again, but he’s out of time. It’s too late. Elijah’s too close, there’s nothing he can do. He freezes, bracing himself for pain, for something sharp being shoved into his back. For blood to flow. But instead, a body presses against his, gentle hands caress his arms.

Hot breath on the side of his face.

“You’re wrong, Adam,” Cole whispers into his ear. “So wrong.” He pauses; Adam can feel the warmth of his body, the scratch of the man’s chin against his cheek.

“DCI Bishop,” Cole continues, his voice low and quiet, “did you honestly think that those women were my first?”

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