“I have a few questions,” he stated now. “About your sister, Shana Day, and Donnie Johnson’s murder, thirty years ago.”

“I can’t help you.”

He gave me a look. He wasn’t a large man, but heavyset, with a swarthy complexion and small dark eyes. I imagined he could be quite intimidating when he wanted to be. The question was, did he want to be?

“Oh, I think you can,” he stated bluntly. “A professional shrink who meets with her sister at least once a month at the MCI? I bet you know all sorts of things.”

I shook my head. “No. Not really.”

“Aren’t you gonna at least invite me in?”

“No. Not really.”

He frowned, starting to look angry. Frustrated as well, because clearly this conversation wasn’t going as he’d planned. But something else. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but another emotion, dark and potent, stirring the pot.

Now he huffed, taking his hands out of his oversize Dick Tracy trench coat and making an imploring gesture.

“Come on. Cut a guy a break. Your sister was one of the first fourteen-year-olds ever prosecuted as an adult. Nowadays, it seems the news is filled with depraved teenaged killers. But Shana, what she did to twelve-year-old Donnie . . . that was a bad case. Can’t tell me you don’t think about it. Can’t tell me, having her for an older sister, hasn’t affected your life.”

I said nothing, simply readjusted my hand on my purse. If I grabbed my apartment keys, then went for his jugular, or jabbed at his eyes, would that be seen as a woman protecting herself? Or would it simply prove that I was just as violent as the rest of my family?

“You care about your sister that much?”

I said nothing.

“I mean, it’s not like you grew up with her. Nah, you were the lucky one.” He rocked back on his heels. Giving me space, I realized, as if he knew what I’d just been thinking.

“I read all about you,” he continued, voice matter-of-fact. “In a gene pool of freaks, you still managed to outfreak ’em all. Rare genetic condition, snagged yourself a rich doctor to play Daddy Warbucks. Way to go, Adeline. Bet your sister hates you for that alone.”

He stared at me. I said nothing.

“Is it true you can’t feel pain?”

“Hit me and find out.”