“Not directly. The control was the threat.”
Calder glanced down. “I’m going to ask you something difficult.”
Sara braced.
“In any way, did he violate you sexually?”
Scout went still beside Burke.
“Not that I know of,” Sara said. “No.”
Calder waited.
“He undressed me. Changed my clothes. Brushed my hair. Told me I was beautiful. It wasn’t sexual. It was clinical. Like he was staging a scene.”
Scout closed his eyes briefly.
“Describe staging.”
“He cared more about the set than me. Bed precise. Quilt folded. Journals lined up. Lamp angled. Clock ticking.”
“Comfort?”
“Comfort as control isn’t about neatness,” Scout said. “It’s about building a set.”
Burke felt that in his spine.
“Lauren’s journals?”
“At least five. Campus life at first. Then it tilts. Benton humiliating her. Keller hovering. Raines watching. And Sinclair—making ordinary things sound holy.”
“Did he mention Lauren?”
“Yes. Said he didn’t mean for her to die. Asthma. Pneumonia. ‘A shame.’”
The room went still.
“He placed her in a cool, dry place. Kept her buried until I stirred things up. Like I dragged something back into the light.”
“Remorse?”
“No. Excited. Like a writer talking about a draft that got away.”
“Repeated phrases?”
“People reveal themselves when trapped. The room shows what we are on the page. Lauren’s pages ‘did their work.’ Mine would too.”
“Angry?”
“No. Patient. He thinks he’s doing important work.”
Calder closed her folder.
“You did well.”
“They’ll find him.”
“They will.”
