22. Chapter 22

22

Q uinn spent the next few days writing up the rest of his study to send to his university seniors to mull over. He hadn't found out what he'd wanted to, but he had discovered pitfalls in the ‘Psychopath checklist'. He'd done his best to be thorough, researching studies, theories and criteria related to psychopathy, but there just wasn't enough out there to use, and Zane Black had proved the tests were easy to manipulate to get the desired result.

Why anyone would want to be labelled a psychopath, Quinn didn't know, but it had implications in the courtroom. People could deliberately score high on the psychopath test and put in a plea of diminished responsibility if it ever became a recognised mental health condition.

Quinn shook his head and pressed Send on six months of his life.

He relaxed back into his sofa with Mars pressed up to his thigh, purring softly.

When he called his mum, she'd cried with relief down the phone that he was finally going to visit her at the villa in the South of France. He hadn't been back there since his dad had died, but it had become his mum's permanent place of residence. There were other widowers in the neighbouring villas, and they'd formed somewhat of a support group to one another.

Quinn's neighbour had agreed to come to the house every day to check on Mars, and although guilt clawed at him for leaving his grumpy companion behind, he knew he had to escape for a little while and put distance both physically and mentally between himself and Zane Black.

Quinn couldn't breathe. His mum's arms were tightly around his chest, squeezing him as hard as she could. He dropped the handle of his suitcase just so he could unpeel her. She captured his cheeks in her hands and pulled him down until he'd bowed over just so she could look into his face.

"You've lost weight," she said, "and not in a good way."

"I'm happy to see you too."

She squinted, releasing him. Quinn and his mum shared the same shade of blue eyes. Her hair was white but full of volume and bounce. A pearl necklace sparkled around her neck. A lump formed in Quinn's throat. He knew his dad had given her the necklace on her fiftieth birthday, knew how much she cherished it and cleaned it every night.

"And you look like you haven't been sleeping," she said.

"It's been a rough few months."

She looked at him intently for a few moments, then took his hand. "Grab your case. Let's get you inside."

He did as she said and followed her into the villa. It was small with two bedrooms and a wet room. There was a swimming pool, but Quinn couldn't recall ever seeing either of his parents use it. Matching white villas surrounded them, and their gardens didn't have boundaries; they were open, and one of the neighbours strolled past the window, lifting his hand in greeting.

"That's Derek," his mum said. "I'll introduce you later. He can't wait to meet my doctor son."

Quinn sighed. "I have a doctorate in psychology. I'm not a medical doctor."

"Same thing."

"It really isn't."

"Get comfortable," she said, pointing to the sofa. "I'll make the tea."

Quinn slipped off his shoes and stepped into the living room. The sun bled orange into the sky as it set, and the views were spectacular, but Quinn only had eyes for the picture frames on the wall. Each one was of the three of them—Mum, Dad and Quinn. And it hurt, eighteen months later, the absence of his dad still ached in his chest.

Quinn sat down on the sofa, listening as his mum hummed a happy tune. He slumped, sinking into the sofa cushions and allowing himself to zone out and close his eyes.

When he opened them again, the sun had set, the curtains had been drawn and a lamp lit up the room. His mum sat in her favourite armchair, reading a book, and once she realised he was awake, she took off her reading glasses and gave him a smile.

"I'm sorry," he blurted, sitting up straighter. He frowned at the blanket thrown over him. "I didn't mean to—"

"You needed to, though," she said.

Quinn reached for the teacup in front of him. It was sat on a saucer, with two bourbon biscuits beside it. The tea had long cooled, but he took a sip anyway even though his mum shuddered.

"You can't drink it like that."

"I don't want to waste it."

She flapped her hand. "Don't be ridiculous."

Quinn ate a biscuit instead. His mum watched him for a few moments.

"I've been worried about you."

He swallowed too soon and biscuit scratched his throat. He had to take another sip of cold tea to help it go down. "There was no need. I'm fine."

"There's every need. First, I see from social media of all places that you and Damon broke up—"

Quinn winced.

"Then you stop replying to my messages, barely take my calls."

"I'm sorry—"

"And last but not least, I find out you were kidnapped by some madman, driven into the woods and left to die on the hottest day of the year." She dropped her book down on the coffee table. It boomed. "Now, I'd like you to tell me about what's been happening these past six or seven months, starting with the study you were conducting that you didn't want me to know about."

He'd told her he got funding for a study from his university but had kept the details deliberately vague.

Quinn cringed. "I thought you'd get worried—"

"I found out from the news you'd been speaking to violent men inside Greenwood Prison, one of whom kidnapped you." Her lips thinned. "I would've preferred to know the truth from the start."

"I wanted to see if there was a link between violent psychopaths and damage to four areas of the brain which control empathy, emotion, decision-making and impulses. To test that, I had to find violent psychopaths, so I vetted criminals convicted of one or more murders at Greenwood to try to find out who was right for my study and who wasn't."

"And the one that kidnapped you, this…Virgil, was he a psychopath?"

"Maybe."

"Did he hurt you?"

"No. I told you on the phone after it happened, and I'm telling you again now, Virgil didn't hurt me. We were okay."

She squeezed her eyes shut. Then opened them again with a gasp. "We?"

"There was another prisoner in the van when Virgil took it…Zane."

"Zane Black," she said, nodding. "I remember, the son of that billionaire. He was into some weird things and was always getting himself in trouble. Did…did he hurt you?"

"No."

"Was he a psychopath too?"

"No. I don't believe he was. He was…a good guy."

"A good guy…" Her brow creased. "I remember all those articles being printed about him. He was violent and spoke in a disgusting manner to—"

"You shouldn't believe everything that was written about him."

She looked away. "Maybe not. But he did get charged with two counts of murder, Quinn, hardly the actions of a good guy."

Quinn hung his head. He couldn't argue with that. Even if he knew Zane wasn't responsible, Zane had accepted the charges against him and pleaded guilty.

"Did you get the results you were hoping for?" she asked.

"No. It was only a small sample of participants in the end. I needed all of them to support my hypothesis to make any kind of waves, but they didn't." He paused. "If anything, it's made me question the validity of ‘psychopaths.' It's a word made famous by Hollywood and glorified in newspapers, but what does it actually mean? What's the specifics of it?"

She shrugged. "You're the psychologist."

Quinn smirked. "I guess so."

"What happens now? With the university?"

"I imagine they will let me go, and I'll have to look for a new job, possibly serving pints at my local pub."

"And is that what you want to do?"

"Not really, but I've got to pay the rent and bills somehow. It's all on me now."

"Which brings me to Damon, why didn't you tell me about him? He was such a nice young man."

"Damon began messaging another guy when Dad was dying."

She frowned. "What kind of messaging?"

"The sexual kind, and a few months before I started my study at Greenwood, he cheated on me with the same guy." Quinn rolled his watch on his wrist until it faced him. "Multiple times."

"Oh," she gawped. "I'm…I'm sorry. I had no idea."

Quinn waved the comment away. "We weren't compatible long term. I wanted to settle down, but he didn't."

"He has been very…busy from what I've seen on social media."

"By busy do you mean involved with other guys?"

She hummed.

"Maybe I should hate him more, or be upset, or something, but I'm not."

"Have you ever thought of moving out here?"

Quinn widened his eyes. "What?"

His mum nodded. "A fresh start."

"I like my home." He swallowed. "The village, my allotment, Mars. It might not be for everyone, but…I'm happy where I am."

She smiled at him. "Your dad and I were happy in the village we raised you. This villa was only supposed to be for holidays, but when he died, I knew I couldn't go back to the house or the village." She chuckled. "Or even the country. It reminded me too much of him."

"It still hurts," Quinn said, glancing at one of the many pictures.

"And it will," his mum agreed. She sighed. "It's a shame you won't consider moving out here." A coy smile lifted her lips.

Quinn narrowed his eyes. "Why is that?"

"The gardener, he's cute…"

"Mum, are you seriously trying to set me up with someone?"

She laughed, and Quinn smiled at her, feeling lighter.

The time away was needed. Quinn was introduced to the neighbours, who cooed over him and pinched his cheeks while his mum stood proudly at his side. Derek asked Quinn about his bad back, and it took several attempts to explain he had a doctorate but wasn't a qualified medical doctor.

One day, Quinn's mum dragged him outside to meet the gardener, who had smiled but acted perplexed when she left them alone together. The gardener was handsome enough, but he wasn't Zane Black, and after lingering beside him for a few minutes, Quinn excused himself and allowed the poor man to do his job.

"Cute. Isn't he?" Quinn's mum said, loud enough for the gardener to overhear through the open doors.

"The cutest of cutes," Quinn replied, shaking his head. He pulled his phone from his shorts pockets and logged into his emails.

There was one from the university, and once Quinn built up enough courage, he opened it. He'd winced in preparation, but his senior didn't condemn him for not getting the desired result; he congratulated him on his first solo study and acknowledged the challenges of interviewing violent criminals. Quinn had held his nerve, even when kidnapped by one of the country's most feared men.

He'd asked Quinn to consider joining him to talk about his experiences in one of his lectures. Quinn had convinced himself they would throw him out of the university, cut ties with him completely, and they would if they ever found out about his inappropriate relationship with Zane Black, but an invite to talk about his experience was so unexpected he gawped.

"The gardener won't find you attractive if you walk around like that."

Quinn snorted, eyeing his mum. "I got a message from the university. They want me to come in and talk about my time at Greenwood."

"A lecturer." She nodded. "Now that's a career path I'd feel a lot more comfortable with."

Quinn tapped out a reply, allowing himself a small smile.