Black As Night (Quentin Black Mystery #2) (15 page)

“You mean apart from all of them being totally okay with referring to living, breathing children as ‘merchandise’?” I said, meeting Black’s gaze. “Or was it ‘acquisitions’?”

“It was both. And yes. Answer the question, Miriam.”

I fought to think about what I could feel him asking me.

“You think one of those four could be doing it?” I said.

“Yes.”

“And clearly you think it’s not
only
religious. You also think it’s sexual?”

“Yes.”

Frowning harder, I adjusted my weight on his thighs, ignoring Black’s reaction and the pain I still felt coiling between us. I fought to think about the different impressions I’d gotten from the four men sitting on that rooftop terrace. Finally I sighed, combing my fingers through my long hair and ignoring Black’s eyes watching me do it.

“I don’t know, Black,” I said. “Frankly, it doesn’t really work like that. There are different kinds of pedophiles.”

“How many different kinds?” he said.

I looked down to find him watching me intently. His eyes were still glassy as he gripped my leg, but he was definitely listening to me too. Ignoring the hotter flush of...whatever...off him, I averted my gaze with another light shrug, resting my hands on his chest.

“It’s more like variants on several larger subtypes,” I said, switching to a more clinical-sounding voice. “There are what you call ‘predisposed’ pedophiles, which is what laypeople usually think of as ‘real’ pedophiles. Those are the ones who, for a variety of possible reasons, are specifically attracted to kids. Even within the predisposed, there are exclusive versus non-exclusive varieties.”

Feeling a whisper of question off him, I clarified,
 

“The exclusive ones are
only
attracted to kids. They often have a specific age bracket they target...usually within two to four years in age span, often under twelve years of age, but on the high end, so pre-pubescent but near pubescent. It’s thought that they target those ages because they’re generally easier to groom. They’re more likely to be curious...or at least confused. The non-exclusive ones can be attracted to both adults and children and generally have much wider age spans in terms of preference within both categories. Either type can be bisexual, homosexual or heterosexual. Sex and gender preferences haven’t been shown to have any bearing at all on the likelihood of pedophilia.”

Exhaling, I thought again, pretty much out loud that time.

“...There are also opportunistic pedophiles, Black,” I added. “Which are fairly different from the predisposed ones. The predisposed...even the
nonexclusive
predisposed...have an active and usually conscious sexual attraction for children. The opportunistic ones may not think about children in that way apart from being presented with a specific opportunity. But they still might
act
if that opportunity were present.”

Seeing him listening still, I shrugged, listing off sub-types with my fingers.

“...Some opportunists simply have impulse-control issues. Some are drug addicts. Some are psychopaths who don’t give a damn about social mores or ethical issues and will gratify themselves with whatever and whoever happens to be available at a given moment. Some are more consciously sadistic and get off on the problems they cause their victims, both during and after. For those it’s more about ‘breaking’ the victim, a process they sexualize...”

Grimacing, I combed my fingers through my hair again.

“All of the types I’ve mentioned, meaning all variants of predisposed and opportunistic, have a higher percentage of anti-social personality disorder markers...” At Black’s blank look, I clarified, “Psychopaths. Many more of them display traits of psychopathy...particularly the diminishment of empathy. A fair chunk of the predisposed also have lower IQs than average, although that’s mostly true of the ones with an exclusive preference. The majority are sadists of one kind or another. Or narcissists.”

Pausing another beat, I shrugged, my hands again on his chest.

“So really, there’s not much I can tell you about those four on the roof, other than the fact that they all displayed psychopathic markers, so of course it’s possible. Given the different types and variables I listed, I would need to know more to say anything more definitive. The variety in pedophilia-oriented tendencies is what makes pedophiles so difficult to profile unless they’re caught in the act...even the serial ones.”

Black said, “So it could be any one of them?”

“Yes,” I said, looking down with a frown. “That’s what I just said. I’d need to know more, Black. Or I’d have to be able to use...” I glanced at the driver then back at Black, biting my lip. “...Other methods. To discern the truth.”

“What does your gut tell you?”

“My ‘gut,’ as you call it, was switched off, Black. That’s kind of my point.”

He shook his head, his eyes skeptical. “It’s never off entirely.” Massaging my leg with one hand, he tugged me closer again. “Your intellect would still be pulling connections. Past experience...impressions.” He lowered his voice, leaning closer to me. “You still have a seer’s
mind,
Miriam. Highly structured abstract thought. More ability to find relationships between seemingly inconsequential and unrelated details...highly empathic...”

I thought about that too.

Sighing when he realized he was right, that I had formed a few opinions, even without my psychic ability, I resettled my weight in his lap after he pulled me towards him again. I ignored it when another plume of that heat left him.

“All right,” I said, my clinical voice back on. “If it were me, I would look at the guy who didn’t talk.”

“Which one was that?”

“The doughy-faced one,” I said. “Sitting to my right.”

“Donald?”

I shrugged, looking down at him. “I didn’t get a name. But he displayed a few of the secondaries for an exclusive preferential. He wore a kind of ‘little kid’ mask when I looked him directly in the eye. And he hid from me...socially, I mean...when I wasn’t looking at him, which was pretty much the entire meeting. He also seemed to be feigning arousal when the others joked about me sexually...”

I felt the beginnings of Black’s smile and cut him off.

“...The lack of arousal isn’t strange,” I said, my voice a touch warning as I refolded my arms. “But
pretending
to be aroused is. It suggests he’s used to pretending to be aroused by what other men are sexually aroused by. Other things could explain that, of course. You sometimes see the same thing in closeted homosexuals, especially those from very traditional, religious or certain high-status backgrounds. You also see it with pedophiles.”

Watching Black turn over my words, I opened my mind. I didn’t really think about it much before I did it––well, other than the thought that showing him would be easier.

I’d also forgotten he’d told me not to use my psychic ability.

I sent him a snapshot of the man in question. I picked the moment when “Donald” had been smiling at me, staring at my chest with that blank, boyish look...right after he’d let out that odd, off-putting laugh. I felt a flush of reaction off Black, right before he pressed up against me.

“Gaos,”
he murmured. “Don’t do that, doc.”

I bit my lip. “Sorry.” I glanced around the car. “...Although it can’t possibly matter now, right? We’re blocks away from the hotel...in a moving vehicle.”

“It could,” he said cryptically.

When that heat coming off him intensified, I gave his shoulder a light shove.

“Did you get that?” I said. “The actual
information
I showed you?”

“I’m still in shock,” he murmured. “You’re a fast learner, doc. I know I should yell at you for doing that, but instead I’m harboring dirty thoughts again...”

I smacked his shoulder a second time, but I couldn’t help laughing too.

I found myself thinking how strange it was that things could flip between us so easily. I wondered if my relaxing around Black stemmed partly from the contrast I felt between him and what I’d gotten off those men on the roof.

“Yes,” he said, glancing up. “Yes, that’s part of it. Instinct, doc. You could tell those men were dangerous.” Tugging me closer, he murmured in my ear, “You trust me, doc. Whether
you
know it or not, your light knows it. You trust me...and I trust you.”

When I pressed my lips together, he stroked the hair out of my face. Still holding me close, he lowered his voice even more.

“It’s normal for a seer to want to share light with someone they trust after feeling themselves in danger.” He kissed my cheek, caressing it with his. “Those men scared you. You want to be in my light...just like I want to be in yours.”

I felt myself flush. After he kissed my face again, I raised my head, withdrawing from the contact. I found myself avoiding the more intense feelings he began to emanate, too.

Even so, I thought about his words, staring out the window of the car.

There was too much there though...too many layers of meaning packed into what he’d said just then...certainly way too much for me to unpack it all right now.

Anyway, I’d trusted Ian once, too.

Apparently my decisions around trusting people weren’t always particularly sound.

Black tightened his hand around my thigh. Feeling something shift in the emotions coming off him, I faced him before he could speak.

“Did you see what I actually showed you?” I said. “Black?”

Glancing down, I firmed my lips when I saw the tauter scrutiny in his eyes.

“Cut it out,” I warned.

“Doc...” He hesitated. “We should talk about that. About Ian. I can feel you suppressing it. It’s really not healthy for people like us to do that, even more so than with––”

I smacked his shoulder with my hand, a little less playfully that time.

“Not now,” I said, my voice openly warning. “I said cut it out, okay? Psychoanalyze me in San Francisco, if you want.”

“Psychoanalysis isn’t really my specialty,” he said with a wan smile. “I’d rather fuck you repeatedly and share light and help you get over it that way...”

I smacked him again, and that time he laughed. I felt another ripple go through him from the hit though, and clenched my jaw. Still, it was hard to get genuinely angry at him for some reason. Of course, I knew that could change on a dime, too.

“Hey,” I said. “Pay attention. I’m trying to teach you something. Did you see how that ‘Donald’ kind of, I don’t know...simpered at me? He was cloaking with a kid’s persona. That’s pretty typical of an exclusive pedophile. They think of themselves as kids too...it’s part of how they normalize and rationalize what they do. I don’t know if you caught it, but I also saw at least one micro-expression there...including a flicker of disgust towards me...specifically, my breasts. So he definitely has ambivalent feelings about adult women. Maybe about females in general. He gave me more of a ‘dirty mommy’ look than one of objectification. Normal homosexuals don’t do that, either. Their affect towards women usually registers as flat. Indifferent.”

Black nodded. He seemed to be thinking again, even as he continued to massage my thigh. He frowned as he turned his head, gazing out the one-way window.

“You think whoever is killing these kids is molesting them first?” I said.

He looked up. “Yes. That might even be why they’re killing them.”

“So they can’t talk?” I said, still not following him totally. “Why would they care, if they’re trafficking them anyway?”

“I don’t think ‘they’ do,” Black said somewhat cryptically. “I think for the syndicate, it’s more likely to be about perception. Or...” He gave a sideways shrug. “...It could be a disposal thing. Either way, they wouldn’t take a risk like that for a foot soldier. Which is why I wanted you to look at the leadership here in Bangkok.”

“But you also said you think the pedophile
himself
might be killing them?”

Black nodded more slowly. “Yes.”

I stared out the window, watching the scenery slide by without really seeing it. “Sometimes a pedophile will kill their victims because they can’t face what they’ve done. It’s not usually empathy, though. It’s more that they can’t reconcile the reality with how they want to see themselves...”

I trailed when I glanced down at Black.

I barely comprehended what I was seeing before he wiped his face, using the back of his hand. My grip tightened on his shoulders. Sliding closer to him, I wound my hands into his hair, coaxing him to look up. He didn’t meet my gaze but turned his head obediently. I felt him relax when I didn’t let go, leaning more heavily into my fingers.