19. Chapter 19

19

The heat was more intense the next day. Cleo checked her phone as they waited for Simon and Clint to bring Zane and Virgil outside.

"The hottest July 3 since records began." She pocketed her phone, then flashed Quinn a glance. "At least the hospital has got aircon."

"The hospital, yes, but the van…"

Cleo hummed. "We'll get Clint to park it in the shade."

Quinn nodded absent-mindedly, his gaze fixed to the front gate. He wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs and mopped his brow with the hem of his shirt. Cleo gripped her blouse and flapped it to get a current down her body, but it didn't cool her down much if her flushed cheeks were anything to go by.

As soon as Quinn saw Zane coming towards him, his stomach flipped. Zane wore a white vest, and his cuffed hands made his biceps protrude. He smiled at Quinn as he approached, squinting slightly as the sun shone on his face. There was no denying he was handsome, strikingly so with his dark hair and eyes.

"Today's the day."

"It is," Quinn agreed. His gut tied itself in a knot.

"And what a beautiful day it is." Zane grinned, then winked. "I still think I'll be right."

"About what?"

"Me having the sexiest brain."

Quinn snorted softly, eyes meeting Zane's.

"In you get," Simon said, directing Zane up the two steps to get in the van. Zane sighed but went, and thirty seconds later, Simon reappeared and marched behind Clint as they went to get Virgil.

Virgil didn't greet any of them and got into the van without protest or comment. Simon and Clint got in the driver's cabin, and Cleo gave Quinn an encouraging push towards the back. She dropped her bag as soon as they were inside, pulled out a bottle of water and glugged down the whole lot.

Quinn widened his eyes.

"Don't worry," she said. "I've got another, and we can buy some at the hospital."

The drive, like the day before, was silent. Quinn found himself glancing at Zane's door, wondering what he was thinking as they drove down the road.

Just as Cleo had said, Clint parked the van in the shade, meaning a longer walk across the car park to get inside. Zane went first, with Cleo and Simon on either side of him, while Clint stayed with the van and Virgil.

The police escorts followed behind closely, one walking backwards as he surveyed the area and hissed into a radio receiver.

Zane paused in the hospital reception. His nose twitched.

"What is it?" Quinn asked.

"I hate the smell of these places."

"What? Cleanliness?"

"No." Zane lowered his head. "The smell. It reminds me of when my father was in hospital." He shook his head. "When he…"

"Sorry," Quinn said softly. "I know exactly what you mean."

"You've got nothing to apologise for."

Gemma rushed over with her gaze locked on Zane. It wasn't like with Harris or Richard. There was no horror or wariness. She gave Zane an appreciative look, sweeping her gaze up and down his physique. Zane's vest hung low, flashing his pectorals, and his biceps continued to bulge obscenely from the position of his cuffed hands.

"Good afternoon," Gemma said, and it felt like minutes passed before she dragged her eyes from Zane and looked at Quinn. "It's nice to see you again."

"You too," Quinn said, but even he heard the tightness to his voice.

Zane stared at him.

"This way," Gemma said, and when she walked in front of them, Quinn swore she moved more seductively than the day before, wiggling her hips for Zane's benefit.

Quinn retreated, making sure he was behind Zane, Simon and Cleo as they followed Gemma down the corridor.

Doctor Hart stood waiting beside the scanner like he had the day before with his two nurses standing behind him. He smiled at Quinn and offered his hand. "Doctor Quinn."

Quinn shook it and tried his best to ignore the way Gemma was up close and personal with Zane.

"Okay," Zane breathed. His eyes were on the MRI machine. "This is probably a bad time to mention I'm claustrophobic, isn't it?"

Quinn blinked. "What?"

"Yeah." Zane swallowed. "I should've mentioned it."

"We can get you out any time," Doctor Hart said. "Doctor Quinn and I will hear you while you're inside the scanner, and we can talk to you too."

"You'd better talk to me," Zane said in Quinn's direction, and there was something there, a hint of fear.

"I will," Quinn promised.

"Okay…"

Cleo undid Zane's cuffs and handed them over to Doctor Hart.

"We've got to strap you down, though," Cleo said.

Zane's eyebrows shot up. "I'm sorry, what?"

"We can't use the cuffs, so instead we've got wrist, thigh, stomach and ankle restraints."

"Right," Zane said. He cracked his jaw. "Let's get it over with."

Quinn led Zane towards the bed and rested his hand on top. "Up you jump."

Zane slid onto the bed and lay down. "Who's doing the strapping?"

"I am," Gemma said, sounding far too gleeful over the prospect of touching Zane. Quinn stepped away, shaking his head. He didn't look back at Zane as he went into the other room, but he watched ramrod straight through the window as Gemma fussed over Zane, even brushing something from his cheek as she gazed down at him.

Cleo turned around, miming at the window, "Desperate much?"

Gemma and Zane whispered back and forth. Then she giggled, and Quinn gritted his teeth. She took an age to put the belts and straps across Zane, and her hands lingered on his defined chest.

Jealousy stabbed at Quinn's insides, and when he realised that was what it was, jealousy , he felt sick with himself. Virgil had said it was hot, burning in the pit of his stomach, and Quinn could feel it too, but he had no desire to throw fuel onto it. He ground his teeth and dug his nails into his hands, pushing it away.

"Quinn," Doctor Hart said. "You good?"

He nodded.

Doctor Hart pressed down on his microphone to speak to Zane. "We're starting now. Gemma's going to insert a cannula and inject you with some dye to help us interpret your brain activity."

Zane didn't reply. Quinn didn't watch, but he heard Gemma cooing over Zane, offering him reassurance. Doctor Hart hit a button, and the lights in the room dimmed as the machine turned on. The bed Zane had been strapped to moved into the scanner, and then Quinn had his face on his monitor. Zane pursed his lips, attempting to slow his breathing. Sweat shone on his cupid's bow, and his pupils were small, darting.

Quinn hit the button. "I'm here."

Zane closed his eyes in a long blink. "Fucking hell, Quinn."

"If you're finding it too uncomfortable, we can stop—"

"No." Zane chuckled lightly. "It's okay, just don't go so quiet on me, yeah?"

"Sorry," he said. "Why didn't you tell me you were claustrophobic?"

"I didn't want you to think I was unmanly or something."

Quinn snorted. "I wouldn't have thought that, and you know it."

"You might have removed me from the study, though…"

And maybe Quinn would have.

Quinn side-eyed Doctor Hart. He didn't circle with the curser or stroke his chin as he studied the images in front of him. He glanced back at Quinn and mouthed, "normal".

Normal.

"Quinn…" Zane bit his lip. "You said you wouldn't go quiet."

"Sorry." He tapped his laptop, bringing up the first file of images. "I'm going to flash some pictures up on the screen in front of you."

"Okay."

"I'm here," Quinn promised.

"I know."

Quinn clicked the first slide show, and like the day before, the nurses and Doctor Hart grew visibly uncomfortable with the pictures on screen. Quinn didn't go quiet; he spoke a number before each image appeared, just so Zane knew he was there.

Zane's expression didn't change, but his brain function did. It lit up in areas Quinn hadn't seen the day before, bright and stable when both Harris's and Richard's had been fleeting sparks.

"Normal," Doctor Hart mouthed at him again.

"Quinn…"

"I'm here," he said. "You good?"

Zane nodded jerkily.

"Next, I'm going to play you some sounds…"

Like with the images, Quinn said a number before each sound began.

Normal.

"And now, a word association game like we played in the sessions."

Normal.

Zane Black lied with his face and with his words, but his brain, it couldn't lie.

"We're all done," Quinn announced, voice trembling slightly.

He watched through the window as Zane came out of the scanner, and Cleo, Simon and Gemma all rushed to him.

"Could it be wrong?" Quinn asked Doctor Hart, staring dead ahead. "Could he have—"

"No. You can't make parts of your brain react. It's unconscious."

"There's no hint of damage and no areas that are muted or overactive?"

"I'd say, in my professional opinion, Zane Black has completely healthy brain function. There's nothing in his scan that indicates past trauma, disease, underdevelopment or previous hypoxia, and the areas you highlighted for me to record are not showing any abnormalities."

Quinn tensed at Doctor Hart's eyes burning the side of his face.

"That's not what you were hoping for, is it?"

Quinn squeezed his eyes shut. "I don't know anymore."

"He didn't react," Doctor Hart remarked. "His facial expression, I mean. He stayed blank throughout."

"Why is that significant?"

"He's affected by the images you showed and the sounds you played, but he doesn't want you or anyone else to think he is." Doctor Hart frowned. "I don't understand why someone would mask their responses to that degree. What does he get out of it?"

"That's the question, isn't it?" Quinn exhaled.

"One more to go," Doctor Hart said.

Quinn squeezed the bridge of his nose. "Yes. One more."

Cleo and Simon led the way with Zane between them. Quinn kept his distance. Even the stoic and watchful police officers were closer to Zane than he was.

When they got to the van, Zane glanced back over his shoulder, trying to connect, but Quinn denied him and turned away.

Clint sat in the driver's seat with his door open. He'd unbuttoned his shirt completely, and sweat stained his armpits.

"Virgil is desperate for a drink."

Cleo nodded. "I got it," she said, stepping into the van as Zane sat down in a cubicle.

"Can you at least uncuff me?" Zane asked.

Simon looked at him for a long time, then nodded as he slipped his keys from his pocket. He undid Zane's cuffs, locked Zane's door, then handed the cuffs over to Clint.

Sweat ran down Virgil's forehead. He glared at Cleo. "Dogs are treated better than this."

Cleo helped him with the bottle of water, and he drank the lot.

"We doing this or what?" Virgil growled, scrubbing his cuffed hands against his face.

Quinn nodded and led the way.

Doctor Hart gasped when he saw Virgil's brain activity. It was a sharp, hitched sound that snapped Quinn's head towards him. Doctor Hart had his mouth open. He leaned in closer to the screen, mesmerised by the light show of activity. Quinn hadn't even begun any of the tests.

"It's…chaotic, to say the least," Doctor Hart said, before nodding the go-ahead to Quinn, who went on to describe the first test to Virgil.

The screen stayed just as chaotic. It reminded Quinn of a war zone, explosions that fizzled out and returned, bombarding the whole area.

"I've not seen anything like it," Doctor Hart said. "Was he ill? As a child, was he ill?"

"He said he knew… He said he knew for as long as he can remember that he was a killer, knew it was only a matter of time."

"How could he know as a child he would go on to kill?"

Quinn shook his head. "I don't know. He said he responded to things differently, the smell of death, rot and decay didn't bother him, and he actively liked the smell of blood."

Quinn told Virgil he was about to start the slide show, then clicked play on his laptop.

"Jesus," Doctor Hart hissed. "What did he say his earliest memory was?"

"At six years old, he found a dead deer on the road, dragged it into the woods and conducted ‘experiments' on it."

"But he doesn't remember anything before he was six?"

"No… I couldn't find out anything about his parents. He doesn't remember them."

"Quinn," Virgil said. "Everything okay?"

He pressed the button. "You're doing fine. Now, I'm going to play you some sounds."

Again, chaos reigned, but one sound, a dripping, lit up his frontal lobe and his eyes dilated.

Quinn bit his lip, then pressed down on the microphone.

"What I want you to do for me now is to close your eyes."

Virgil frowned at the camera but eventually shut his eyes with a huff.

"Now what?"

Quinn swallowed. "I want you to picture Luca. His face. Him smiling that wicked smile you told me about."

Virgil's face relaxed. His eyelids moved, and the chaos, the violent flashes, faded. They didn't disappear altogether, but it was as if someone had slid a filter over them, calming their harshness.

"Luca," Doctor Hart said. "The boyfriend?"

Quinn nodded.

"Where are you?" Virgil whimpered inside the scanner. His brow pinched, and he scrunched his eyes. The battle in his brain restarted, with flashes and sparks, and he opened his eyes.

"We're done," Quinn told him.

"Good," Virgil replied.

Doctor Hart leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. "You really know how to pick them, don't you, Quinn? I know who Virgil is, what he did… I think everyone knows, but I wasn't expecting that. I thought his emotions would be muted like Harris's, but it was the opposite, if anything they're overactive, untameable. He doesn't appear to have any control over them, but when he thought of Luca…" He blinked. "You saw the difference, right?"

Quinn nodded.

Luca dampened it all.

Cleo tapped on the window, startling Quinn. Virgil stood behind her with Simon, cuffed and eyeing the two police officers that had entered the room.

"We're out of bottled water." Cleo said upon opening the door. "Could you buy us a couple of bottles from the canteen?"

"Sure," Quinn said, gathering his things and the print-offs from Doctor Hart. He turned to Doctor Hart and gave him a warm smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Doctor Hart said, shaking his hand. "I look forward to reading your findings once it's all written up."

Quinn thanked the nurses, then hurried ahead of Virgil and his escort to buy some water. He got back to the van first, and Clint slipped out of the driver's seat, flapping a leaflet in his face.

"About time," Clint said. "Zane's been bitching his head off."

He unlocked the back, and Quinn jumped inside. He knelt down, grabbing a bottle from the bag, but whipped his head up at the startled cry from Clint.

The door to the van slammed shut, clicking from the outside.

"Clint?"

The van shook. Clint didn't respond, but there were shouts outside, stamping feet.

The driver's door snapped closed, and there was Virgil, still cuffed, hissing out curses as he turned the key left behind in the ignition.

"Virgil?" Quinn gaped in disbelief.

The engine rumbled to life, and Quinn fell back, crashing to the floor as Virgil slammed his foot down on the accelerator.

"Quinn!" Zane shouted. "What's going on?"

Quinn was thrown left to right as Virgil tore through the car park, smashing into whatever got in his way.

He collided with the door to Zane's cubicle with a grunt.

"Quinn!"

"It's Virgil," he gasped. "He's… He's…"

"Driving the van?" Zane finished when they took another sharp corner. Quinn heard sirens screeching behind them as he struggled up, clambering to the front where he could see Virgil through the small window.

"Virgil—"

"Shut up, Quinn," he snapped. "And you might just make it out of this alive…"