Page 71 of The Eleventh Hour

“And how do you feel about that?”

I give him a look that can only kindly be called scathing. “I’m horrified, guilt-stricken, desperately praying I’m wrong.”

“Do you often pray?” Sparrow seems to find this fun and chortles to himself. I wait for him to finish and try to cool the anger in my veins.

“Only when I’ve tried everything else and I have no other options.”

“Does it help?”

“No, it makes me even more pissed off because nothing helps when bad people do bad things.”

“Please, don’t swear in my office, Jackie.” Dr Sparrow frowns down at his notes. “How long does he normally take to reveal a body?”

I pull a face that must mirror my disgust that he’s even asking, but I banish it before he can say anything, relaxing into my expressionless mask. “He waits for occasions. Moments when it will make the most impact emotionally, physically, mentally. So, birthdays or anniversaries, parties or holidays.”

“Interesting, interesting.” He looks at me for a long moment and frowns. There is sweat beading on his upper lip and sweat patches under his arms. It’s foul. “That’s an unusual ring. Where did you get it?”

I look down at my hand and freeze. The room turns fuzzy at the edges, and there is a strange roaring. My ring. A blood-red stone surrounded by six black diamonds. That’s my ring. My engagement ring that has been missing for six years. On my finger. When did he do it? He must have done it while I was sleeping. Oh, god, someone was in my apartment, touching me while I slept. Who, though? Who is doing this to me?

“What?” I jerk my head up.

“I asked where you got the ring.” Dr Sparrow huffs and makes scratchy notes.

“Oh, my friend River gave it to me.”

“Why is it on your engagement finger?”

I shrug. “I’m a single gal, not wanting to find a special someone,” I flash the ring. “This keeps people away.”

“That sounds like a good idea. You don’t need added complications in your life right now,” Sparrow says, and I can tell he bought the lie.

“Mm.”

“So, let’s address the issues and plan forward.”

I uncross my legs and sit up. “Plan forward?”

“The detectives are going to be on your case, Miss Shade. They have already tried to subpoena my files.”

I swallow against a dry mouth. “That’s…not good.”

“You must not step out of line. I will protect you as much as I can, but I think it’s time you told me the truth.”

“The truth?”

“About your involvement in the murders of the twenty-one, sorry, twenty-two victims.”

“I told you the truth,” I finally manage in a strangled whisper.

Dr Sparrow snaps his notebook down on the table and clasps his hands on his lap.

“That is simply impossible. You are smart, too smart. I know you are lying. I can see the signs sometimes. Looking away, holding my gaze too long, the change in your pulse rate. So, we both know that there is something you aren’t telling me, and perhaps anyone, and it’s time you confided in me. I’ve kept you out of prison all these years, and I’ll get you through this. Help me to help you.”

Bile burns up the back of my throat. “I told you everything.”

We sit locked in silence for a long time. Sweat trickles down my spine, and my leg muscles twitch with the urge to bounce my knee.

“You disappoint me.”