“Wait. Balloons? You serious?”

“They’re called looners,” she said. Cyrus boggled at her. “Don’t judge. They can’t help it. Even vanilla people have unwanted fantasies—rape, violence, incest. Just because someone calls their lover ‘Daddy’ during sex doesn’t mean they want to fuck their own father.”

Cyrus looked up at her in surprise.

“Yes?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

“Your eyes got very wide when I said the word ‘Daddy.’ Did it get to you?” Her tone of voice wasn’t flirtatious, but curious. She sounded like a therapist trying to diagnose a patient. He better get out of here fast or she’d be interviewing him instead of the other way around.

“I didn’t know it was considered a kink, that’s all,” Cyrus said. “Girls say it all the time as a joke.”

She bowed her head. He could see she was trying not to smile, trying not to smirk.

“You like being a sex worker?”

“I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t find it satisfying on more than one level. There are, I promise, easier ways to make money.”

“Then why do it?” he asked.

“I’m a sadist.”

Cyrus laughed.

“You don’t believe me?”

“Of all the crazy shit you just told me, that’s the craziest. You’re a sadist?”

“I’m a sadist.”

“I used to be a cop. I met sadists. You are not a sadist.”

“You’re confusing sadists with psychopaths. Maybe this answer will make more sense to you,” she continued. “I like having power over people.”

“Power?”

“Power. Have you ever felt it? Power over someone?”

Hard question. Easy answer. “Yeah.”

“Did you like it?”

He answered it honestly before he could stop himself. “Too much.”

“There’s your answer.”

“You like having power enough to order someone to kill himself?” he asked, casually as he could.

Either she was the best actress in the world or his question had caught her completely off-guard.

“I would never do that,” she said, almost breathless. “Never.”

He believed her. Maybe he shouldn’t but he did. “Had to ask.”

“Right. Of course.” She stood up. “Now if we’re done here, there’s a little girl and a very pregnant woman upstairs who are expecting me to take them to get chocolate chip waffles at eleven, and I would hate to disappoint them. And me. Since we’re being honest with each other, the waffles are mostly for me.”

Cyrus stood up. He knew when he was being dismissed. He followed her from the room to the front door of the house and down to the gate. Her fingers flew over the keypad too fast for him to see the code. The gate yawned open.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you more, Mr. Tremont. Truly. I don’t like knowing a priest called me before he shot himself. Maybe if he got me on the phone, I could have helped him.”

Cyrus stepped onto the sidewalk and turned back to face her.

“Could you answer one more question for me?”

“Of course.”

“This is all speculation, but can you imagine any scenario where a man would call you right before he killed himself? Anything? Anything at all?”