At least he’d brought them both toothbrushes. Evelyn had never realized what a luxury a toothbrush could be. They had to use bottled water and spit into the toilet or the drain, but being able to clean her mouth was a wonderful feeling.

With a sigh, she turned away from her cellmate and began to pace in the cramped space. “This is nothing compared to what I’ve been through before,” she said, still trying to encourage Edna. “We’re going to get out of here. I’m going to go back to my fiancé, and you’re going to go back to your kids.”

Edna said nothing. When Evelyn glanced over, she looked as though she were shrinking with her hollow cheeks, the dark smudges below her eyes and the way her head barely peeked out of that blanket.

Evelyn stopped pacing and went over to sit next to her on the cot. “Listen to me,” she said, taking the other woman’s frail, cold hands.

Edna’s eyes shifted to Evelyn’s face but only for a second before she flinched and went back to staring at the wall.

“We are going to get out of here,” Evelyn repeated more emphatically. “And this is how we’re going to do it.”

When Edna looked over this time, Evelyn could tell she’d finally piqued her interest. “How?”

“We’re going to use Bishop’s own personality, his own needs, against him.”

“What does that mean?”

“He wants to be liked, admired. He craves it like a drug. That’s why he does what he does. He’s been shunned and ridiculed his whole life, has a strong fear of abandonment and a great deal of resentment for the fact that other people don’t recognize his genius. So he does what he does to punish the people around him and to make them stay at the same time. Sort of like … Dahmer with the men he killed, right?”

“Dahmer?” Edna said with a shudder. “You’re referring to the man who ate his victims?”

Evelyn immediately regretted what she’d blurted out. She didn’t need to remind Edna of even more frightening people. “Never mind. The bottom line is this: when Bishop brings us food, we need to get him to talk, make him waste time, give him a false sense of security—”

A frown creased Edna’s thin face, but, ignoring it, Evelyn forged on.

“And … and see if we can’t get him to discuss his house hunting with us as if we’re all friends and want to be here with him. That’s his fantasy, what he’d like to believe. So let’s play into it. He doesn’t want to face that we hate him and would do anything to get away from him, so let’s pretend we don’t.”

“How could he possibly believe that?”

“You’d be surprised at the delusions I’ve encountered in my work.”

“But even if he tells us what he’s found, how will we leave that information behind? We don’t have any paper or pencil, and if we write on anything else—in blood, since that’s all we’ve got—he’ll see it.”