Stranded

consider personally testifying to your parole board about how you’ve helped us.”
    She had absolutely no authority to make that offer and she imagined Kunze jumping out of his chair and screaming at her through the soundproof wall. Whatever the repercussions, she saw immediately that the payoff would be worth it.
    There was something that swept across Otis’s face, an emotion so strong he couldn’t hide it behind one of his silly grins. Gwen recognized that they were his coping mechanism, an internal leveler that he used even when they didn’t match his words or moods. But in the seconds that followed Gwen’s offer, Otis slipped. His eyes flashed disbelief. The smile waned—but just for a couple of seconds, at most. And in that brief momentary lapse, Gwen saw that Otis P. Dodd was surprised—maybe “flabbergasted” was a better word—that someone like her would sincerely offer to speak on his behalf.
    “You’d do that?” The smile returned, along with the poke of the tongue.
    Finally he sat up and leaned forward, but only slightly. Trust was such a delicate thing, so fragile, not easily earned and harder to repair.
    “If you provide us with more information that helps us find Jack, yes, I would do that.”
    “Find Jack?”
    He slipped back in his seat. He hadn’t seen that one coming and he shook his head as if she had sucker-punched him.
    So much for trust. She had shattered it before she could claim it.
    “Perhaps you can help me understand him. You know, learn about him and why he does what he does.”
    Would he notice how much she was backtracking? If they wanted someone who was good at sucking up to criminals they should have hired a hostage negotiator. She never pretended to understand how to relate to the criminal mind even as she studied it and hoped to dissect it.
    “Maybe I will tell you about Jack just because I like your company. And I think you’re pretty.”
    Her turn—she had not seen that one coming. It was definitely becoming a battle of wits. And Otis was certainly not a dim one.
    “You like older women?” She produced a laugh to make it sound like she thought he was putting her on.
    “Why now, you can’t be a day past what’s old enough for me.”
    It sounded sweet and charming and only reinforced her image of him as a teenage boy. Even Otis’s neck flushed red.
    “Tell me about meeting Jack. You said you spent an evening drinking with him. It sounds like you had an opportunity to get to know him.”
    Otis leaned forward. Was he finally ready to confide in her?
    “Funny thing about Jack. Just when you might think you’re getting to know him and what not, you sorta realize you don’t know Jack. I think there ain’t nobody that knows Jack.”
    “But he told you things.”
    “Yep, that’s right. He told me a whole bunch of stuff.”
    “Why do you suppose he did that?”
    “Oh, I don’t know,” Otis said, but he wasn’t rattled or defensive. He leaned back and did his search of the ceiling, like he’d find the answers there. “I supposed he saw that me and him have something in common, you know. Both of us kinda got messed up when we were kids.”
    “He talked to you about when he was a boy?”
    “No, he doesn’t really like to talk about it. I could just tell. Like there was something there. But Jack could see that me and him, we ain’t like normal people.”
    “What’s normal? Does anyone know?”
    Otis laughed, a genuine chuckle this time. Gwen should have been pleased that she’d made him laugh. Then he squinted at her as if he were trying to determine if she was serious, or if she was playing him.
    “Whatever it is, I’m not sure I can get back to normal,” he said.
    She met his eyes and knew there was nothing dimwitted about this man. He was too good at throwing out simple remarks that cut deeper.
    Gwen shrugged, trying to encourage him to continue. She could see that he wanted to.
    “And Jack?”
    “Oh, he’s not normal.” He laughed again. But this time it didn’t sound genuine or joyful. It sounded nervous and forced.
    “So what makes him kill?”
    He shrugged with both shoulders, practically bringing them up to his huge earlobes, an exaggerated gesture. Gwen realized Otis knew much more than he was willing to share.
    “I suppose you’d have to ask Jack. But he does seem to enjoy it quite a bit.”
    “He told you that?”
    Another shrug. “I guess he likes the challenge or what have you. He likes to study them.”
    “By killing