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“Even if there was a smile on his face, even if he was laughing, if he was angry, you needed to see it.” I swallowed the ball of emotion rising in my throat. “You needed to avoid it.” To avoid getting hit.
“You’re the guy who waves the red flag in front of the bull.” “If you can’t keep them from hitting you,” Michael said, “you make them hit you. At least that way, you’re ready. At least that way, it’s not a surprise.”
Snapshots uploaded by other people gave me a candid look at a person. How self-conscious were they? Were they at the center of group pictures, or at the edge? Did they make the same facial expression in every picture, rigidly controlling what they showed to the world? Did they stare down the camera or look away? What kind of clothes did they wear? Where were the pictures taken?
Clark had known Emerson. He’d known she was sleeping with the professor. He was angry. And we were staring at a picture of him wearing an orange hunting vest, holding a gun.
If I’m remembering the campus maps correctly—and you know I am—Davies Auditorium is a twenty-five-minute walk and a ten-minute drive from the president’s house. Which means that if the death of Emerson Cole (a) required the UNSUB’s presence and (b) took place after 7:25 A.M. and before the end of that test, then every single student in that class has an alibi.”
I LOVE SLOANE
“You told me that I needed to see it myself to understand exactly what I would be shutting down.” I’d wondered why the director would send his daughter here, knowing she thought this program was a mistake, and now I knew.
“Go ahead and say it, Dad. I left you.”
He was right. Now that I’d said it, I could see that it was true—Dean’s father didn’t want to share him. I made him, he’d said in that interview with Briggs. He wanted Dean to blame himself for each and every woman Redding had killed, because if Dean blamed himself, if he thought he didn’t deserve to be loved, he’d keep the rest of the world at arm’s length. He’d be his father’s son—and nothing else.
Any second, Dean was going to pull back from my touch. But he didn’t. And I didn’t.
Michael doesn’t hate Dean. He hates that Dean is angry and holding it in. He hates that Dean knows what his childhood was like.
He hates the idea of Dean with me.
“You and Michael,” Sloane said slowly. “There’s nothing going on with Michael and me.” My reply was immediate. Sloane tilted her head to one side. “You and Dean?” “There’s nothing going on with Dean and me.” Sloane stared at me for another three seconds, and then: “I give up.”
HAHAHA
“Lover boy here says you stopped him from doing something stupid last night.” Lia smirked. “Personally, I don’t want to know how you persuaded him to hold his horses. Horses were held. Let’s save my tender ears the details, shall
“Are you two going to start braiding each other’s hair next?”
BYE LMAO
“Okay, I’m calling it,” Michael announced when the quiet got to be too much. “I’m turning on the radio. There will be singing. I would not be opposed to car-dancing. But the next person whose facial expression approaches ‘brood’ is getting punched in the nose. Unless it’s Cassie. If it’s Cassie, I punch Dean in the nose.”
This was hurting him.
“Your father is a brilliant man,” Trina said.
Eugh
He reached for my elbow and wrenched me off the couch. I stumbled, trying to catch a look at Christopher’s eyes, to know what he was thinking, whether he’d meant to grab me so hard— One second Dean was next to me, and the next he had Christopher pinned to the wall, his forearm pressed against Trina’s son’s throat.
YES.
“Christopher!” Trina said. “This young lady is our guest.” Her chest heaved with agitation. No, not agitation, I realized. Seeing the look in Dean’s eye, the way he’d moved, she was excited.
“He could have gone for me. He could have gone for you. But he went for Cassie.”
Its hiiiim
“She was dating someone.” Dean scuffed a foot into the dirt. “I was Daniel Redding’s son.”
You were her son, too,
“What was she like?” he repeated softly. He shook his head. “Nothing like Trina Simms.”
“It was Dean’s fault,” Michael announced solemnly. “He needed to do this.” “Michael!” I said.
Sterling turned to Michael. I expected her to ask him something, but instead she just held out her hand. “Keys.” “Spatula,” Michael replied. She narrowed her eyes at him. “We aren’t just saying random nouns?” he asked archly.
But I do know that when he snapped, it happened in an instant, and he didn’t go for Michael or Dean. He went for
We’d discovered that Emerson was having an affair with her professor,
The women were the main event; Fogle was just in the way.
When I profiled an UNSUB, I used the word you. When Dean profiled killers, he said I.
“I think my father has a partner.”
“I met her. I didn’t like her. She died.”
Oh my..
Like Gloria, the woman that Daniel Redding had introduced to his young son. I told him I didn’t want a new mother. And he looked at Gloria and said, “That’s a shame.”
Dean didn’t turn to look at Lia, but underneath the table, I saw his hand find its way briefly to hers. She grabbed hold of his and squeezed, hard enough that I wasn’t sure she’d ever let go.
To Daniel Redding, Dean was a thing. A marvelous creation, purely his, body and soul.
“We should adjust the lower end of the age range for our UNSUB.”
“To seventeen.”
“I wonder—do you ever get tired of the things you can’t do? Can’t catch every killer.”
“Can’t keep a wife. Can’t keep from coming back here. Can’t get me out of your mind.”
He was a teacher, evaluating the performance of a prize pupil.
“You’re not capable of loving anyone but yourself.”
The boy I knew had so much potential.”
This time, as Briggs broke up the fight, I saw Redding smile. He’d gotten what he wanted. A hint of violence. A taste of Dean’s potential.
“Where is the professor’s cabin?” Briggs asked. Dean’s father smiled. “Catoctin,”
Is ot Briggs?? IDKK
“Tell him she was your first.”
“you won’t find what you’re looking for. The most interesting letters I’ve received, those that show rather remarkable attention to detail—those letters didn’t come from the professor. They came from one of his students.”
“Liar.” Sterling said the word on the screen at the exact same time that Lia muttered the word beside me.
A muscle in Redding’s cheek twitched. “Direct hit,” Michael murmured.
“Like a dog on a leash,”
You do what you need to do to survive.
“But we already knew that!” Sloane was almost shouting. She bit her bottom lip, and I realized how helpless she felt down here: alone, unable to make a difference, no matter how many times she did the math.
My baby sloane
