The hot bubble of anger rose up in Romeo’s stomach. He could only look at Chad’s eye, the purple eye, the swollen flesh. It looked as if he had tried to dab concealer onto the bruise, but it hadn’t helped. It looked like someone had stuck a plum to his eye, then squashed it.

 

“It looks worse than it is.”

 

“Who the hell did that?”

 

Chad exhaled through his nose. “Gareth…”

 

“He punched you in the face?”

 

Chad gave him a grim smile. “Yeah.”

 

“Well, I’ve now picked my number one…”

 

“Don’t even joke about it.”

 

“For once, I’m not joking, Chad.”

 

“Look, I deserved it. I hit him first.”

 

Romeo leaned as far as he could over the table. “And I hope he’s got an equally messed up eye.”

 

“Split his lip actually.”

 

Romeo’s bottom lip tingled. He remembered Chad’s mean right hook.

 

“Splitting lips a specialty of yours?”

 

“It’s on my CV and everything.”

 

“What was the fight about?”

 

“I wouldn’t call it a fight.”

 

“Chad?”

 

Chad gave him a pointed look, then whispered, “You … kinda. This—this whole situation.”

 

“And you hit him first?”

 

“He wanted me to stop visiting.”

 

“They all do, don’t they?”

 

“Yeah, but Gareth… It’s been building for months, and we came to blows yesterday.”

 

“He thinks he’s looking out for your best interests … he’s worried about you. People do odd things when they’re worried.”

 

Chad snorted, shaking his head. “You know it started out like that, worry, concern, but then it turned to fear. People fear what they don’t understand. It unsettles them, riles them up, frustrates them, and frustration builds into irritation, then anger. He made a comment, and I snapped.”

 

“What did he say that made you hit him?”

 

Chad looked at Fred, then Paul, then the camera. He couldn’t tell Romeo what their argument had been about, and that was enough of an answer. They’d come to blows over the copycat case.

 

Once Romeo could see beyond Chad’s sore eye, he did a double take at what he was wearing. Not his shirt and tie like he’d driven straight there after work, but a loose grey hoodie, and sat with his hands under the table.

 

“Why aren’t you in your suit?”

 

Chad shook his head and spoke as if Romeo hadn’t said anything. “I knew that people wouldn’t understand why I like visiting you, but I never knew it would be this hard. Walking into work, the hostile atmosphere, the whispers, the looks. It’s just—it’s shit.”

 

“You’ve got me, you know that, right? I get you.”

 

“But you’re in here, Romeo. I’m on my own out there, and it feels like the walls are closing in on me. I’m trying to hold it together, but why? What’s the point? Why do I even get up in the morning, why do I even go to work?”

 

“Because you’re a bloody good detective.”

 

“A detective that fell for a serial killer. A detective whose only reason for living is to see him once a week through a sheet of plastic. A detective who just got…”

 

“Got what?”

 

“It doesn’t matter.”

 

“You’re under a lot of stress at the moment, things will get better.”

 

“They’re only gonna get worse as the weeks go by.”

 

“Stop talking like this.”

 

Paul cleared his throat. “No, better than that, stop visiting him.”

 

“Shut up,” Romeo growled at Paul behind him.

 

“But it’s true. You want your life to go back to normal, you want your colleagues to respect you again, you want the looks and whispers to stop. You want the public to trust you, then all you’ve got to do is admit you’re ill, and stop coming to this prison.”

 

“Ill?” Chad said.

 

“Yeah, this is some fucked up Stockholm syndrome.”

 

“I’m not ill.”

 

“Visiting a serial killer, one that almost murdered you. The only reason he didn’t was because your colleagues saved you. They got to that farmhouse and got him off of you.”

 

“That’s not how it was.”

 

“Maybe it’s not just Romeo who needs to be locked up.”

 

Romeo turned around. “I’m gonna headbutt you in a minute.”

 

“That a threat?”

 

“It’s a promise.”

 

Paul stepped forward, but Fred pressed a palm to his chest to stop him. Romeo gave him a very obvious death glare, then turned back to Chad.

 

“I don’t agree with what you did.” Chad said to Romeo. “Killing those people … its unforgiveable. I’m not okay with it like people think. I think of you as two people just to handle it, the countdown killer, and Romeo.”

 

“I know.”

 

“I wish you hadn’t done it.” He looked up blinking back tears. “Why do you have to be a killer, Romeo?”

 

“I told you, it’s in my head, my biology.”

 

“Yeah, but why?”

 

“I don’t know. The universe wanted to play its biggest joke.”

 

“I can’t stop visiting, because if I do, then I’d have nothing. I don’t feel alone when I’m with you … and it was so easy to shut down the killer part of you, ignore it was there, all until this case.” Chad stopped and shook his head.

 

“You’re tired, you’re hurt, stressed—”

 

“Sometimes I wish you killed me in that farmhouse.”

 

Romeo’s mind blanked, he gawped, his eyes started to burn. He didn’t know what the emotion was, but he didn’t like it. His heartrate soared, his chest tightened, and his stomach cramped until he was nauseated.

 

“Don’t say that. You being alive means everything to me.”

 

“This isn’t living, though. It feels like waiting, but I have no idea what I’m waiting for…” He paused, then whispered. “I need you.”

 

Romeo couldn’t tear his eyes from Chad. He saw the plea, the desperation. The detective was gone, and it was Chad begging for him to get out of there. To escape. Tears welled in his eyes, and his lip wobbled, and Romeo wanted to reach for him so badly, but couldn’t.

 

“Hang in there, Chad.”