"You were a child when darkness touched you."
Saskia yanks on her robe and walks to the bathroom. "I embraced it long after Maven was dead, and I feel no guilt for my past. While I take a shower, I'd like you to leave. Now that all the other publicity events are canceled, we can return to Houston tomorrow."
The door shuts gently behind her as if Saskia refuses to admit she's upset. Her voice never wavers. Her cold expression never falters. Despite the hours of wild abandon in bed, she's once again closed off to me.
Dressing quickly, I leave as she wants. I ought to feel worse about giving up so easily or upset about her closing the door on her feelings. After her prideful speech on the wonders of torturing someone, her indifference feels like a relief.
22
Saskia
Pieces of a Puzzle
The flight back to Houston is a tense one. Brad says nothing to anyone. Nell and Ruth whisper heatedly, arguing over something. Minka is positively miserable and takes a seat away from everyone. Once the plane takes off, the bad mood onboard is oppressive.
A few hours into the flight, Marx decides to take the seat next to mine. I continue flipping through my catalogs while he settles in for a long time. He's clearly nervous to talk to me. Though I hope he'll chicken out and go away, he smiles at me instead.
"You don't like me very much, do you?"
"I have no feelings towards you whatsoever."
"I probably come on too strong. This entire experience with Brad and the book has been overwhelming. Sorry if I annoyed you."
Glancing back, I notice Ruth and Nell watching us from two rows over. I decide to prove I'm nice by tolerating Marx.
"I'm sure you did a professional job on the book."
"You still haven't read it?"
"If Brad wants to share something about his past, he can tell me himself."
Marx studies me with his pale blue eyes. I check my phone while he does his thinking.
"I think you have an interesting story to tell," he finally says.
"I'm sure you do."
"A book could be written in such a way that it would tell your story without giving away personal info about you."
"Unlikely. What would be the point of telling my story anyway?"
"You could explain how you got into your line of work. I'm sure you have a lot of great stories."
Thinking of how I shared too much with Brad and he's now avoiding me, I have no interest in telling more stories.
"I doubt there's a way to write about my life without giving away info about me and the people in the stories. If you put too much info, bad people might come looking for us."
Marx gives me a confident smile. "I'm sure we could fudge some things."
"If you're planning to lie about the details, the book would be fiction. If so, why not write whatever you want and leave me out of it?"
Frowning, Marx glances around. I don't know what he's looking for, but he returns his gaze to me and says, "I prefer writing about real people."
Even having no interest in this man, I realize Marx might provide me with info to help me protect Brad.
"You did research into Brad's case before writing the book, yes?"
"Sure. I talked to the detectives in charge. Retraced the crime and took pictures of everything."
"The man I shot at the hotel had been off the grid for decades. The man and woman who died when Brad escaped were both essentially homeless for years before their deaths. Did you find anything that connected the first two?"
"No."
"Two people with no clear signs of income managed to pull off the abduction. How did the man from last night afford to pay for his room?"
"He might be a criminal and stole the money."
I think about the man I killed the night before. His clothes were brand new. He had recently gotten his hair trimmed. However, his skin looked battered like a man surviving on the streets through too many harsh seasons.
"People who live off the grid don't have the means to travel to a big city and pay for an expensive hotel. I find it difficult to believe a member of the cult was homeless in New York, saw Brad was doing local interviews and decided to steal money to get a room so he could destroy the half demon guy from a decade old TV show."
"So what are you saying?"
"I'm saying there's a missing link. How did the man even know Brad would be in town for the interviews? Was this information publicly posted somewhere? I suggest you use your investigative skills to figure out the answers to these questions. Imagine if you track down the cult and figure out how they're funded, you'd have your second book. It'd probably sell more than the first one."
Marx considers my idea for too long for a man desperate for a follow-up idea.
"Are your people tracking down leads?" he asks.
"Yes, but the old info isn't leading anywhere. We also don't have a lot of new stuff to follow. If you get anything, let us know."
"I will."