I wasn’t sure if he was serious.
I couldn’t believe it didn’t occur to him just how fucking weird it was to have a pet in your house that you chose not to give a name to.
“If she doesn’t have a name, then what do you call her?”
“I don’t need to call her anything. She comes to me on her own when she’s ready. We communicate just fine. She doesn’t have a name for me.” The words were almost defensive, but he didn’t sound defensive when he delivered them. It was more like he was just rattling off a list of logical facts that should be obvious to any thinking person.
The cat probably did have a name for him... it was just some version of a meow that didn’t translate straight to English.
“I thought sociopaths killed small animals.” I don’t know why I felt the need to say that. It was out of my mouth before I could stop it. It seemed unwise now that it was out there—like making unappreciated commentary on someone’s handicap.
He gave me a dark look. “You watch too much TV.”
“I don’t remember ever watching TV.” Except the movies at the castle. He must have forgotten the amnesiac trapped in a theme park for months situation.
“You must have watched it at some point. Where else would you get your ideas about sociopaths? The abnormal psychology fairy?”
Had he just made a joke? Possibly his second in the space of a couple of minutes? It was so odd even thinking about him making a joke. I swear his face just had that one expression. I wasn’t sure how he got on in life without every single person near him clearing a big wide path in terror. I thought sociopaths were supposed to be outwardly charming. He was really attractive, but I wasn’t sure I’d call him in any way charming.
“There are plenty of low-level sociopaths in the world who get a lot of evil accomplished with very little feeling involved. More than you’d care to know about have wives, kids, dogs. For most, those things are camouflage.”
“Is your cat camouflage?”
Shannon shrugged. “Not a lot of things make me feel things. When they do, I don’t let them go.”
I’d made him feel something.
I couldn’t bring myself to ask more. He already seemed like he’d hit his human interaction quota for the day, and more frightening than making him feel something where he wouldn’t let me go, was not making him feel something so he would. I was sure with Shannon, letting someone go was pretty much final.
When I was finished shopping, he ushered me out of the office and locked the door.
“I have to finish cleaning up. I’m going to lock you in for a while.”
“I... um... finish cleaning up?”
Shannon looked at me like I was a mental patient. “The body?”
“Oh.” I’d somehow almost forgotten about Trevor’s charred remains. “Okay.”
"I'll get your... toiletries while I'm out."
When I was alone, I finally had time and space to think. I searched the house. Nothing weird anywhere. There were a few locked doors, including what I thought was probably Shannon’s bedroom on the second floor. There was no land line phone anywhere in the house, and no computer outside the now-locked office.
The white cat followed me from room to room yowling in an irritated fashion like she was going to tell on me for checking things out. But everything looked normal. So normal, in fact, that for a moment I could pretend that Shannon was just a regular nice guy and that all the nasty business with Trevor had never happened.
But it had happened. Intellectually I knew I should be searching for a way to escape, but I couldn't bring myself to believe that a man who wanted me dead would have just spent so much money buying me new clothes.
Chapter Five
Eventually, we settled into something resembling a routine. I finally stopped fearing that he’d throw me down and take my imagined virtue, or that he’d kill or otherwise harm me. Shannon treated me like I was his roommate—his deadbeat mooch of a roommate who didn’t pay rent. I actually started to feel guilty about it. I was wearing clothes he’d bought, using his water and electricity, eating his food, invading his space. And so far he hadn’t asked for anything in return.
But still I felt like it was coming. I expected any day now to see some version of an invoice slipped under my door with a demand for immediate payment.