The Experimental Murders (Elysium #2)

Chapter Thirty

 Trinket had never been inside any of the rooms at the Clocktower. And now that she was standing in the middle of one, she realized she was not missing out. The floors were creaky and covered in unrecognizable stains, and the green floral wallpaper was fading to yellow and peeling in the corners. There was a single bed covered with a patchwork quilt and two pillows that were so flat they might as well have not even been there. A window was hidden by thin curtains that had been patched so many times it was impossible to tell what the original color had been.

The door closed behind her, and she listened as Booker secured the locks. "I know it's not much, but it will do for one night," he said, appearing beside her. He threw her a sidelong glance. "Are you nervous?"

Her muscles tensed, but she refused to let on that he was correct. "Why would I be nervous?"

Pacing over to the bed, he sat on the end and stretched out his legs. "You're alone in a sleazy rented room with a devastatingly handsome doctor. No one could blame you if you were anxious. Or even a little excited."

He waggled his eyebrows and cast her an infuriating grin. She narrowed her eyes at him and glared. Laughing softly, he rose to his feet and took a few steps towards her, his head dipped in a contrite manner.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I don't mean to be disrespectful. I'm just trying to lighten the mood a bit."

Folding her arms over her chest, she moved further into the room and inspected the furnishings. "I am surprised you were frightened enough to insist on waiting until morning to return home." She glanced over her shoulder and arched an eyebrow. "Is the dauntless Booker Larkin intimidated by a Mouse?"

He hesitated before heaving a sigh and leaning against the wall. "Aren't you the one always telling me I should be more afraid of them?"

"I keep telling you that you should be warier."

He looked away. "I was worried that if we tried to go home now, they would jump us on the street in an attempt to get information we don't have. But they would torture us until they got something out of us, and I wasn't quite in the mood to have my fingers cut off and my teeth pulled out."

She shuddered at the thought. "How did they even find out about the girl?"

"Who knows? Maybe they have someone following us. Or perhaps they saw us talking to her earlier and assumed we'd end up at the Clocktower. It's a small city. There are only so many places we could meet."

Daring to sit on the suspiciously stained quilt, Trinket let out a sigh. "Do you think they'll catch her?"

"Based on her disappearing act downstairs, I think she has a fighting chance."

"I'm sorry you didn't get the information you wanted."

He shrugged. "Chances are he's not even the man we're looking for."

There was a trace of disappointment in his words. It was true that they were running on a hunch. But that man's nails wouldn't leave her thoughts. There was a connection between him and the mutilated corpses. She was sure of it. It was just that there were so many pieces to the puzzle that she often got lost in her mind trying to put them all in place.

You'll never figure it out.

So stupid.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Booker's soft chuckle interrupted the voices as he moved to the small desk in the corner. "This place certainly takes me back," he said, running a finger along its dusty top.

"Right. You said you used to perform your surgeries here."

"Indeed. I replaced a number of limbs in these rooms." He scuffed a stain on the floorboards. "I may even be responsible for some of these."