“I’m sorry,” Kane repeated. “I didn’t mean—”

The person pinched the air, snuffing out Kane’s apology. Kane sat a bit deeper in his shame. This was not a person usually found in suburban Connecticut. This was not a person Kane knew how to hide from. He found instead a need to impress them.

“You’re not Detective Thistler,” Kane said, even though it couldn’t be more obvious.

“Ah, how astute. They told me you were a clever one.” The man winked conspiratorially, making Kane grin. “Thistler is occupied with…I don’t know. Whatever occupies the pathologically heterosexual. Perhaps trying to find just one more use for his three-in-one shampoo–conditioner–body wash? Maybe he ought to use it as a mouthwash, too? It might help that dingy rainbow of a smile he keeps showing everyone.”

Kane outright laughed, surprising himself.

“Anyhow. It’ll be just you and me today, Mr. Montgomery. You may call me Dr. Poesy.”

Kane was fascinated by Dr. Poesy, especially by his conspicuous queerness. He was not naïve enough to dismiss this similarity between himself and the doctor as a coincidence, because (and as a rule) Kane didn’t believe in coincidences. Life so far had shown there was something awful and determined about the way the world put itself together for people like him. A seductive sort of unluckiness that repeated in infinitely small and cruel ways. And at first Kane thought Dr. Poesy was part of that wicked design. A further unluckiness, sent to trick him one more time. But how could someone so like him be bad for him? Deep in his distrust, Kane felt something long lost blink to life: hope. This meeting wasn’t a coincidence, but perhaps it wasn’t unlucky, either. Maybe Dr. Poesy was good. Maybe he was here to help Kane break free from the wicked designs of his life. Maybe, just maybe, Dr. Poesy was the brighter edge of fate.

The thought stung Kane’s eyes. He bit down the emotion, telling himself this new hope was dangerous. He needed to stay on guard. Wiping his face clean of emotion, he asked, “You’re the psychologist, aren’t you? You’re here to do my psych evaluation, right?”

“I’m one of many people here to help you,” Dr. Poesy said. “And yes, I am here to evaluate, though today we’re only talking. Your parents have been informed and have left the station for the evening.”

“Do they know what happened?”

Dr. Poesy’s smiled impishly. “Not quite. I told the officers to let me handle them, and I haven’t yet decided what I’ll say. I suppose I’ll decide during this meeting.”

Kane drew back a bit. Was that a threat? What did that mean?

“I see you’ve brought a book. What is it?”

“Oh.” Kane was still clutching The Witches. “Nothing. A kid’s book.”