Sabin asked. “Is the girl holding back on us?” They sat in a conference room in the county attorney’s offices: Quinn, Sabin, Kate, and Marshall. Quinn looked at Kate, sitting across from him with her jaw set and fire in her eyes, plainly telegraphing violence if he stepped on the wrong side of this argument. Just another minefield to cross. He kept his gaze on hers. “Yes.” The fire flared brighter. “Because she’s afraid. She’s probably feeling that the killer somehow knows what she’s doing, as if he’s watching her when she’s talking with the police or describing him to your sketch artist. It’s a common phenomenon. Isn’t that right, Kate?” “Yes.” A banked fire in the eyes now. Reserving the right to burn him later. He liked it too much that she could still feel that strongly about him. Negative emotion was still emotion. Indifference was the thing to dread. “A sense of omniscient evil,” Marshall said, nodding wisely. “I’ve seen it time and again. It’s fascinating.
