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A curious expression crosses his face. “You’re in love with your subject.”
“I am, and it’s maddening. I needed to know beyond any doubt that the treatment worked. I needed verifiable proof that she’s capable of reciprocating my feelings. This is why I needed to duplicate the results on another subject, to have confirmation.”
Grayson tilts his head. “You might be the most delusional twist I’ve ever encountered, Chambers. Even if your insane experiment worked, that’s the worst possible outcome. There’s no way in hell this woman will feel anything but disdain for you after what you’ve done to her.” He releases a low chuckle. “You had more of a chance when she was a psychopath.”
“You know nothing about her.”
“I know human nature.”
“You’re highly intelligent, Sullivan, but I doubt you worked out all the nuances of the human condition all on your own.”
A heated flare ignites his eyes. A slight tic in his jaw.
A smile curls my lips. “You’re still in contact with your psychologist,” I say, working out the connection. “I’ve read about Dr. Noble. She’s very insightful. And not just that, she gave you information on me. Why?”
Even as I ask the question, the pieces start to come together. At his refusal to answer, I say, “It appears I’m not the only one pining for a woman out of my reach.”
Grayson’s expression closes off. “You may be a skilled scientist, but this is one area you shouldn’t dissect too closely.”
“I’m a dead man anyway, right? You came here to kill me. Indulge my curiosity.”
He pushes his thermal sleeves up, revealing the scars and tattoos that cover his arms. I’m drawn to the artwork, the puzzle pieces, questioning what they represent.
“There are consequences for our actions,” Grayson says, rolling the chair forward. “Every action has a reaction. That’s your science. You set your death into motion. Whether it’s by my hand or another.”
“What does that mean?”
“You can’t kill a man like Ericson Daverns without major fallout.”
A sick feeling gnaws at my stomach. I calculate all the angles, what I might have missed, what I didn’t analyze or configure.
It doesn’t shock me that he’s drawn his own educated conclusions, but he didn’t point the finger directly at Blakely. He’s not entirely sure who killed Ericson.
I have more than one reason for selecting my subjects from her book of revenge, and that’s to protect her. If she ever tries to turn herself in, the connection to the other murders—ones I plan to pin on a more believable subject—will discredit her claim.
I just need the murder weapon.
“Brewster,” I say in response to his statement. Ericson’s dirty client. The man with more seedy ties in this city than the mob.
I lost track of this player and didn’t consider him any type of threat once Ericson’s case was suspected as a mugging. What I failed to consider was how much money Ericson moved for his client—how much money Brewster potentially lost when his financial adviser was suddenly taken out of existence.
This puts Blakely in danger.
Grayson crosses his arms, a knowing look on his face. “For a man of so specific calculations, you’re extremely narrow when considering your variables.”
That might be the biggest insult he’s delivered against me so far.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Maybe I hold a small measure of respect for you. Or maybe I pity you.” He stands to hover over the gurney. “I know how a woman can twist your head.”
There’s a scathing slight on the tip of my tongue about his psychologist, but I swallow it down. If I don’t get free, then Blakely is either at the mercy to this fiend, or Brewster.
Neither of those scenarios will happen.
Grayson glances around my lab. “I noticed you have some sick hard-on for clocks,” he says. “It’s strange that you don’t have any here.”
“I’m trying to break a bad habit,” I say, my tone flat.
