It was time to bargain for his life.
Denise watched Donovan with the same, fixed expression in her green eyes. If he had been less intent on regaling her with his brilliance and more focused on his task, he might have noticed that her pupils had returned to near-normal size. If he pinched her skin again, he might have observed a reaction this time.
Instead, Donovan sprawled in his leather chair and drank steadily as he set out his childhood, where he had witnessed casual violence between his mother and father with more fascination than was normal for a six-year-old child. He had killed his first pet, aged seven, and went into nauseating depth about that turning point in his young existence. He spoke eloquently of childhood traumas and sexual fantasies and it took every ounce of professionalism for her to remain completely impassive.
Every now and then, she made sure to dribble a bit. It risked his return to wipe it from her chin, but looked authentic.
“Everything changed with Amy,” he reflected, gesturing with the port glass. “She was so bright. So young.”
MacKenzie stared.
“Now, don’t go getting jealous,” he blew a kiss at her mute body, lying propped against the chair opposite. The clock chimed the quarter hour and he was dimly aware that he should move things along.
Just another minute, or two, he thought.
“Amy came to me as a private client,” he began. “She walked into my office one day and I was smitten.” He thought back to that moment, ten years ago or more. She had worn tight blue jeans and a snug top, her dark hair poking out beneath a floppy hat – the uniform of a student in the early years of the new millennium.
“She’d been seeing a young man, who worked at the hospital where she was a third year medic.”
Paddy’s face completely changed from middle-aged affability, to something hard and grotesque.
“That man is now a well-known personality,” he continued, silkily. “Though, back then, he was nothing. Do you understand? Nothing.”
Swallowing the last of his port, he leaned down to grasp MacKenzie’s jaw, forcing her head upwards to look at him.
“Pay attention, while I’m talking to you, Denise.”
He rubbed the pad of his thumb over her mouth, forcing her lips apart and for a hideous moment she thought he might kiss her.
Instead, he thrust her away in disgust. She slumped back against the chair.
“I made it my business to find him and to get to know the man who had sullied Amy. Edwards needed to know that she was my property.” They had fought, he remembered with a degree of fondness, but eventually he had overpowered the younger man. “I don’t mind telling you, Denise, I’ve let myself go a bit over the years. Used to be much fitter.”
He sighed, tapping his belly.
“But, then, what’s middle age for? It’s about time I enjoyed myself a bit. Life can’t all be work, work, work, can it?”
He considered another glass of port, but with an eye for the time, stretched himself and prepared to hoist MacKenzie from the floor and into his waiting car. With any luck, the street would still be empty and anybody happening to notice would see a well-respected neighbour escorting a fine-looking lady out to dinner.
He’d put in enough hours knobbing about with the locals, listening to their silly chatter about Neighbourhood Watch and charity coffee mornings. Times like these, it paid off.
“What was I saying?” He scratched at his ear. “Of course, I was telling you about Amy. She was a very special, very stupid girl. I was prepared to give her everything, you know. I was a romantic, back then. We began a relationship and, over time, she came to realise that Edwards was no good for her. He didn’t accept that, at first. He tried to take her from me. I couldn’t allow that to happen.”
He held the tips of his fingers against his lips, to still their quiver.
“I didn’t intend to kill her, at least not then,” he picked up the story again. “Like I say, I was younger, more at mercy to my emotions. I had a few bad moments just afterwards. I would think that the police were onto me. Every time there was a knock at the door, I wondered if they’d found her. Then, before I knew it, a year and then two years had passed. I realised I’d done a better job than even I had imagined. Without some bumbling nobody happening to find her after all these years, she would have remained there, in our special place, for all time.”
MacKenzie’s legs were cramping badly. Her left knee lay at an awkward right-angle, but in her supposedly comatose state, she was unable to move it to a more comfortable position. Besides, he was almost finished. It wouldn’t be too much longer before he would tell her about Claire Burns.