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So she sat across from him, crossing her bare legs, and pushed her long wet hair behind her shoulders. “So how long do I have to live?”
She didn’t take him off guard, of course. She doubted anything could. “Feeling feisty, are we?”
“Just not particularly passive. What’s your plan? I’d like some kind of timetable.”
“Why? Do you need to make peace with your conscience?”
“I’d think that would be more your problem than mine,” she said. “My conscience is clear. I’ve lived a relatively blameless life.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. People tend to regret the things they don’t do, rather than the things they do, and I hate to see you regretful.”
“Kind of you to care,” she said. “But the only thing I regret is coming to the Cayman Islands in the first place.”
He looked at her for a long, thoughtful moment. “I expect that’s my main regret as well,” he said finally. “Harry will be dead, either way, and you could be happily stomping around the rain forest right now instead of having a conversation with a cold-blooded killer.”
“And are you? A cold-blooded killer?” “Veins like ice, Ms. Spenser.”
She didn’t doubt him. “Maybe it was supposed to happen this way. Maybe I’m supposed to stop you and save Harry.”
He leaned back on the chaise, and she knew that even behind the mirrored sunglasses his eyes were closed with weary exasperation. “Believe what you want.”
“So how much time do I have? Or are you afraid to tell me?”
His mouth curved in a slight smile, and she was sorry she’d noticed. He really did have a devastating mouth.
“I’m not afraid of anything,” he said in the most gentle voice. “It would be better if I were.”
“How much time?”
He sighed. “The job will be finished by tomorrow night. Does it make you feel better to learn that? Most people are better off not knowing when they’re going to die.”
“Then you shouldn’t have told me you were going to kill me.”
“I don’t believe I said so in so many words.” “Your meaning was clear. Unless you’ve changed your mind.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have that luxury.”
“So what are you waiting for? Why not get it over with?” That was just stupid on her part, she thought belatedly. The more time she had, the more likely she’d be able to figure out a way to escape. Though in fact, it wasn’t looking likely at all.
“Sorry, but I do things on my schedule not yours.”
She could have wished for even a tiny portion of his icy calm. There seemed no way she could penetrate it—not by goading him, not by ignoring him.
“Suppose I burst into tears and beg you to spare me?” She wouldn’t, couldn’t, she thought, but it didn’t hurt to ask.
She would have hoped for some reaction from him, even a faint frown, but she got nothing more than a “Please, don’t.”
“Would it make it harder on you? I’m all for that.”
He said nothing, and she wondered if that was the first sign she’d gotten to him. Or whether he was simply bored. Probably the latter, and she was wasting her time trying to reason with him.
“I’d like to see Harry,” she said abruptly.
“Why?”
“To make sure he’s still alive.”
“Why? A day or two isn’t going to make any difference.”
