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Paige found herself thinking about Duchamp then. “Or do you think of it all as some kind of readymade? The scene is made for you ahead of time by previous artists, and your victims provide you with the substance of them? Is that it?”
She heard Nathan laugh then. “You thinkthisis my art? At most, it’s a facet of it, a performance aspect. But in truth, it’s a sketch, a maquette.”
“So, you make paintings or sculptures based on what you’ve done here,” Paige said. “That’s the point of this? To inspire you to paint?”
“To inspire me to paint somethingmeaningful! Something powerful! Something that will actually affect the audience!”
Paige suspected that the only emotions this killer’s works would raise in those looking at them were horror and disgust, but she knew better than to say it that way.
“Because even negative reactions are a reaction?” Paige said. “Because the hatred that people will feel towards you for years to come is better than indifference?”
“Exactly!” Nathan said. He sounded happy that Paige had gotten it.
“But from what you’re saying, you need to complete a painting after this. If you kill these people, Iwillshoot you, and then you won’t be able to finish anything. Your last work will be left as . . . what did you call it? A mere sketch?”
Paige kept moving around Nathan as she said it. There had to be an angle from which she could get a clear shot. She knew wherehewas both because there was only one spot where he could stand where he couldn’t be shot at and because she could see the shaking of the scaffolding board on which he was standing. It wasn’t well fixed; one of the brackets that held it looked loose. Paige found herself wondering if she could use that.
“Plenty of artists leave an unfinished work,” Nathan called back to her, although he didn’t sound entirely certain about it. Paige knew then that she’d found something that might get through to him. “An unfinished sketch adds to the mystery of all of it. It will leave people wondering what I might have gone on to do.”
Probably killed a bunch more people in the name of his “art,” Paige suspected. It was something that she couldn’t allow,wouldn’tallow. For now, though, she still thought that there was a chance of talking him down here, and she had at least one piece of leverage with which to do it.
“That presupposes that people will get to see your art,” Paige said. “Nathan, if you don’t give yourself up, I promise you that no one willeversee them.”
“Because I’ll be dead?” Nathan countered. “I’ve left my canvasses in my lockup. They’ll be found.”
“Oh, they’ll be found,” Paige said. “By me. I promise you, if you do this, I’ll get to your lockup before anyone else. I’ll take the paintings out of there, and I’ll burn them. No one will see them. No one will know about your art. You’ll just be another petty, deluded killer. Not an artist, not someone to be remembered.”
“You wouldn’t!” Nathan shouted back. Paige could hear the distress in his voice and, more importantly, the fear.
“I will,” Paige promised him. “You’re trying to be a well-known artist? That will never happen unless you give up.”
Nathan was silent for several seconds. That was dangerous. That made Paige’s heart beat faster with fear. A silent suspect was one who might do anything without warning. Paige needed to keep him talking.
“Talk to me, Nathan,” Paige said.
“You want me to just surrender?” he said.
“Think about it. You’ll get a trial. You’ll get to talk about your paintings during that trial, about everything that you’ve been trying to achieve here. You’ll go to prison, but you’ll probably still be able to paint in there. It could be a whole other phase of your art career.”
It felt strange, offering a madman like this a chance to continue his art, but right then Paige would offer him anything it took to get him to surrender peacefully. Anything that happened to him and to his art after that would be down to the justice system.
“Prison art?” Nathan said, lending an edge of distaste to those words.
“Art where you have time to focus and a powerful experience to inspire you,” Paige countered.
“And for that, you want me to leave my work unfinished?”
Paige wasn’t sure if she had him or not right then, but she had to keep trying. Words were all she had to try to save the lives of two people.
“You said yourself that an unfinished piece leaves mystery,” Paige said. “You could let these people go.”
“And rob them of the chance to be a part of something important?” Nathan said.
“Imagine the inspiration this experience will give them,” Paige countered. “Maybe you’ll finally inspire them to produce real art.”
“I don’t know . . .”
“More importantly, you’ll get to keep making art,” Paige knew that she needed to bring this back to him. “You won’t die. Your paintings won’t be destroyed. You’ll—”
