Watching - Блейк Пирс The Making of Riley Paige

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into killers? Plenty of people were traumatized in childhood without turning to murder.

      She pored over Dr. Zimmerman’s text looking for answers.

      According to his assessment, homicidal criminals knew right from wrong, and they were also aware of the possible consequences for their actions. But they were uniquely able to shut off that awareness in order to commit their crimes.

      Zimmerman also wrote what he had said in class—that killers lacked any capacity for empathy. But they were excellent imposters who could feign empathy and other ordinary feelings, making them hard to spot—and often likeable and charming.

      Nevertheless, there were sometimes visible warning signs. For example, a psychopath was often someone who loved power and control. He expected to be able to attain grandiose, unrealistic goals without much effort, as though success was simply his due. He’d use any means to achieve those goals—nothing was out of bounds, however criminal and cruel. He typically blamed other people for his failures, and he lied easily and frequently …

      Riley’s mind boggled at Zimmerman’s wealth of information and insights.

      But as she read, she kept thinking about the first sentence in the book …

      Long before committing a murder, the killer has the potential to commit that murder.

      Although murderers were different in many ways, Zimmerman seemed to be saying that there was a certain kind of person who was destined to kill.

      Riley wondered—why weren’t such people spotted and stopped before they could even get started?

      Riley was anxious to keep reading and find out whether Zimmerman had any answers to that question. But she glanced at her watch and realized that a lot of time had passed since she’d fallen under the book’s spell. She had to go right now, or she’d be late for her next class.

      She left the library and headed across campus, clutching Dr. Zimmerman’s book as she walked along. About halfway to her class, she couldn’t resist the pull of the book, and she flipped it open and skimmed parts of the text as she walked.

      Then she heard a male voice say …

      “Hey, watch out!”

      Riley stopped in her tracks and looked up from her book.

      Ryan Paige was standing on the sidewalk right in front of her, grinning at her.

      He seemed highly amused by Riley’s distracted state of mind.

      He said, “Wow, that must be some book you’re reading. You almost plowed right into me there. Could I have a look?”

      Thoroughly embarrassed now, Riley handed him the book.

      “I’m impressed,” Ryan said, thumbing through a few pages. “Dexter Zimmerman is a flat-out genius. Criminal law isn’t my focus, but I took a couple of classes with him as an undergrad, he really blew me away. I’ve read some of his books, but not this one. Is it as good as I figure it must be?”

      Riley simply nodded.

      Ryan’s smile faded.

      He said, “Terrible thing, what happened to that girl Thursday night. Did you happen to know her?”

      Riley nodded again and said, “Rhea and I were in the same dorm—Gettier Hall.”

      Ryan looked shocked.

      “Wow, I’m so sorry. It must have been awful for you.”

      For a moment Riley flashed back to the scream that woke her up on that horrible night, the sight of Heather collapsed and sick in the hall, the blood on the dorm room floor, Rhea’s wide open eyes and slashed throat …

      She shuddered and thought …

      He’s got no idea.

      Ryan shook his head and said, “The whole campus is on edge—has been ever since it happened. The cops even came by my place that night, woke me up, asked me all kinds of questions. Can you believe it?”

      Riley cringed a little.

      Of course she could believe it. After all, she was the one who gave Ryan’s name to the police.

      Should she admit it? Should she apologize?

      While she was trying to decide, Ryan shrugged and said, “Well, I guess they must have talked to lots of guys. I hear she was at the Centaur’s Den that night, and of course I was too. They were doing their job. I understand. And I sure hope they catch the bastard who did this. Anyway, what happened to me is no big deal—not compared to how this must be for you. Like I said, I’m really, really sorry.”

      “Thanks,” Riley said, looking at her watch.

      She hated to be rude. In fact, she’d been hoping to run into this handsome guy again. But right now she was going to be late for class—and besides, she somehow wasn’t in the state of mind to enjoy even Ryan’s company.

      Ryan handed the book back to her, as if he understood. Then he tore a small piece of paper out of a notebook and jotted something down.

      A bit shyly, he said, “Look, I hope this doesn’t seem to be out of line, but … I just thought I’d give you my phone number. Maybe you’d just like to talk sometime. Or not. It’s up to you.”

      He handed her the bit of paper and added, “I wrote my name down too—in case you’d forgotten.”

      “Ryan Paige,” Riley said. “I hadn’t forgotten.”

      She recited her own phone number for him. She worried that it must seem brusque of her to tell him her number instead of writing it down for him. The truth was, she was glad to think she might see him again. She was just having trouble acting all friendly to anybody new right now.

      “Thanks,” she said, putting the paper in her pocket. “I’ll see you later.”

      Riley brushed right past Ryan and headed toward her class.

      She heard Ryan call out behind her, “I hope so.”

*

      As the rest of the school day passed, Riley read snatches of Zimmerman’s book whenever she got a chance. All day long she couldn’t help wondering—might Rhea’s killer be like Ted Bundy, a charming man who had managed to engage Rhea’s trust?

      She remembered what Dr. Zimmerman had said in class that morning …

      “The killer knew Rhea and wanted her dead.”

      And unlike Bundy, Rhea’s killer was finished. He would seek no other victims.

      At least according to Dr. Zimmerman.

      He seemed so positive, Riley thought.

      She wondered how he could be so certain.

      Later that evening, Riley and Trudy were in their dorm room studying quietly together. Little by little, Riley started feeling restless and impatient. She wasn’t sure why.

      Finally she got up from her desk, put on her jacket, and headed for the door.

      Trudy looked up from her homework and asked, “Where are you going?”

      “I don’t know,” Riley said. “Just out for a little while.”

      “Alone?” Trudy asked.

      “Yeah.”

      Trudy shut her book and looked at Riley anxiously.

      “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” she asked. “Maybe I should come along. Or maybe you should call the campus escort service.”

      Riley felt a surprising burst of impatience.

      “Trudy, that’s ridiculous,” she said. “All I want to do is take a little walk. We can’t live like this—always afraid something awful might happen. Life has to go on.”

      Riley was startled by the sharpness of her own words. And she could see by Trudy’s expression that her feelings were hurt.

      Trying to speak more gently, Riley said, “Anyway, it’s

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