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Cole shrugs. “Nothing to do with me. Not my fault if bureaucracy gets in the way of good old police work.” He pauses. “How is Romilly? I got the feeling she was upset when she left yesterday.”
“I’m not here to talk about Romilly.”
“No? Then why are you here?”
He pauses. He has to get this right; he knows Cole isn’t going to tell him outright, but maybe he’ll give something away. A flicker of an expression. A word, a moment of revelation. Anything.
“Do you know who’s behind this, Dr. Cole?” he says slowly.
The man stares at him. Adam makes eye contact. Neither of them blink. Then Cole speaks.
“All my life, I’ve known that I have a special gift. A way about me, if you like.” He sighs, a slow intake of breath, then out. “At school, my teacher—the only one who saw through me—called me sly. Others said I was sweet, charming, misunderstood. I was never the one to get into trouble. Never the one caught.” His eyes slide back, meeting Adam’s. “But always getting your own way makes you spoiled, DCI Bishop. Have you found that?”
Adam waits, knowing Cole isn’t expecting an answer. Sure enough, he continues.
“A man like you. With good looks and the personality to match. I’ve heard the screws talk about you around here, and the men you’ve put away. Quite the bloodhound, aren’t you, Adam? Tenacity. Ambition. You like it when things work in your favor. So how did you cope when Romilly cheated on you? When she didn’t want you?”
Adam feels his body grow rigid, but he holds on tight to his temper.
“I’m not here to talk about Romilly, Dr. Cole,” he repeats. “I want to talk about Pippa.”
Cole waves his hand in the air, dismissing Adam’s request. “Don’t rush things, Detective. Take the time, enjoy yourself. You’re here now, aren’t you?”
Adam glares. “So what would you like to discuss, Elijah?”
“You, DCI Bishop.” The dark eyes again, on his.
“That’s not up for conversation.”
“That seems unfair. You want me to talk, yet you’re not prepared to share. How did you feel, Detective, when your best friend came home to find his wife dead?”
“I’m not talking about that.”
“Does DS Hoxton blame you? For your failure to find Pippa? Or is he forgiving in the face of your incompetence?” Adam stays silent, his teeth clenched so hard it’s painful. “Is Romilly upset her friend is dead? Or maybe you don’t know. Maybe she doesn’t turn to you anymore, now she has her lovely new boyfriend to cry on at night?”
“I know what you’re doing, Elijah, but it won’t work,” Adam growls. “I won’t give you the satisfaction.”
“The satisfaction of what, Adam? You sharing your feelings? Letting down that facade you cultivate so well?” Elijah sighs and sits back in his seat. Then he turns and gestures to the guard. “Get us both a cup of coffee, will you?”
To Adam’s surprise, the guard nods, pushes himself off the wall, and leaves. The room is silent, the two of them alone.
Elijah looks back to Adam, a big grin on his face. “Scared?” he says, mocking. “Scared to be alone with a serial killer?”
“You’re an old man, Elijah,” Adam replies, forcing confidence into his voice. But what if he has a weapon: a shank or razor blade? He feels his muscles tense. “Bring it on,” he says.
But Elijah laughs. “Like I can be bothered. No. No, I just want to talk.”
“So talk.”
Elijah leans forward in his seat, so close Adam can see the small nick next to his ear where he’s caught himself shaving. “You want to know about Pippa?” he whispers.
“Yes.”
“You want to know why I chose her, why she was perfect? You know how much I like a vulnerable woman, don’t you? How much I enjoy them.”
Adam feels his hands start to shake. Could Cole be telling the truth? Could he have someone on the outside, like they’ve assumed. But how? How is he communicating with them, telling them what to do?
He clears his throat. “Who is killing for you, Dr. Cole?”
