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realized she was in a basement. There was a set of stairs on the other side of the room, leading up to a door. It opened, and Cole appeared. He started down the steps. “You’re awake.”
    Dana shuddered. She’d been blind. No part of her had ever thought to suspect Cole of something like this. Cole was intelligent, gentle. Squeamish even. She remembered the way he’d reacted to the carnage of their high school gymnasium, the revulsion in his eyes. The terror. How could Cole be the killer she’d been looking for?
    But she had to admit that it fit, didn’t it? She had thought that she and Cole fit the killer’s victim profile. Now, it was obvious that the victim profile was based on her and Cole. He was sick, obsessed with their past, and it had warped his brain somehow.
    So why wasn’t she dead?
    The killer didn’t usually take his time with his victims. He tore them to pieces in one violent episode. The trackers couldn’t be sure, of course, because the killer obscured the evidence, washing his victims down thoroughly, ridding them of his scent and anything else he might have left on them before dumping them. But examining the evidence meant they were reasonably certain.
    If she was to be the next victim, she shouldn’t be alive.
    Cole crossed the room to her. He clasped his hands together and made an apologetic face, as if he was expressing his regrets for leaving a dinner party too early. “I’m so sorry, Dana.”
    She thought she might start crying. He was crazy. He was completely, absolutely insane.
    “I’m having trouble killing you,” he said, his tone regretful. “I meant to do it. I really did. But... I couldn’t.”
    Maybe there was something human in him yet. Maybe she could talk to him. Didn’t they always say that you should try to make sociopaths see you as a person, not an object? “My hands are numb. Everything hurts. I’m very scared. Please unchain me. Let me go, Cole. You know me. We’re friends.”
    “I might unchain you at some point,” said Cole. “I haven’t decided yet.” He took his glasses off and cleaned them, looking flustered. “I really meant to get it over with right away. But seeing you again...” He drew in a noisy breath.
    “You’re hurting me,” she tried. “People are worried about me. People—”
    “Did you tell anyone you were coming to see me?”
    She hadn’t. Dear God, she hadn’t told anyone. She’d called Avery and left a message on his phone, only saying she thought she’d nailed down a profile for the killer, not telling him any specifics. No one else knew. Should she lie? If he thought they were coming, what would he do? “I told everyone. They all know where I am.”
    “I don’t think you did,” he said, putting his glasses back on. “You’ve been unconscious for hours now. Enough time for them to have noticed you were missing. If they knew where you were headed, they’d already have been here. I got rid of your car, just in case. But I think we’re safe.”
    She strained against the chains, angry suddenly. How dare he do this to her? “You bastard. Let me go.”
    The apologetic look was back on his face again. “This must really be quite awful for you. I wish I’d been more decisive. I really meant to have it over by now. I did. It’s just that I was in the middle of it, and I couldn’t.” He looked down at his feet, embarrassed. “The truth is, I used to have a crush on you when we were kids. There was a point when I thought maybe you had a crush on me too, but I couldn’t seem to work up the nerve to say anything or do anything.” He looked at her again. “I thought it was in the past. I thought I was over it. But when I saw you, I felt like a nervous teenager all over again.”
    She hated him. She hated him for doing that. For echoing her own thoughts, for feeling what she had been feeling, even if it seemed like so long ago that she’d pondered her attraction for him in his living room. He was still Cole, and he