Page 34 of Two Kinds of Stranger (Eddie Flynn #9)

He wasn’t scared. He didn’t really feel fear, which could also have been part of his symptoms. If anything, he felt calm.

He was not alone in this world. There were others like him.

There had always been others like him. That was also the brilliant part of the book.

He learned that certain aspects of human behavior had not changed in thousands of years, perhaps hundreds of thousands.

And whatever the book said about sociopaths didn’t really change his view of himself.

He could already see the advantages open to him.

He could do things that others could not.

There was no doubt what Logan would study in college, and beyond. He would dedicate his life to this field so that he could first know himself, and then know everyone else.

So that he could understand people.

And control them.

He wondered how long it would take to understand the man he was waiting for.

That man had just walked out of the clinic across the street from where Logan had parked.

He had his arm in a sling and an elaborate padded plastic brace covered the same limb.

He looked pale to Logan. Like he didn’t enjoy the sun.

He wore a white T-shirt and gray pants. White sneakers.

His feet tended to flap on the sidewalk, his stride wide.

His legs didn’t move straight ahead – they tended to be thrown to the side with every step.

It was a strange gait. Arthur Cross walked like an exotic bird, more at home in the air than on the ground.

His eyes were very large and dark, his eyebrows drawn together in a tight scowl, which may have been due to the pain.

The injury to his arm appeared extensive and was no doubt painful.

Logan glanced at his phone, closed the photo album and returned to the search results on Arthur Cross.

Had Logan and Arthur met when they were younger, perhaps Logan’s early upbringing would not have been so solitary. There was something about this man, something familiar.

With his history of criminal fraud, cruelty to animals, sexual deviancy and violent behavior, Logan supposed Arthur had undiagnosed narcissistic personality disorder with psychopathic or sociopathic tendencies.

The first restraining order had been obtained by Kevin Pollock, which also covered his wife Christine White and her daughter, Amy Flynn.

The restraining order appeared to stem from intimidating behavior exhibited by Cross.

An earlier search of court records had revealed the origin of the dispute.

The last will of Arthur’s late wife, Elizabeth Le Saux, whom Logan had no doubt that Arthur had married and then murdered so that he could benefit from her estate.

Except his late wife’s lawyer, Kevin, had gotten in the way.

And Arthur was putting as much psychological pressure on Kevin and his family as possible, perhaps in the misguided view that it may change things for him, or perhaps because of a more primal instinct – revenge.

The restraining order Cross had obtained alleged that Christine White had arranged for hooded men to visit Cross and assault him.

Cross had dark potential, but he lacked the clarity of mind that Logan enjoyed.

This is what made Logan non-existent to the authorities.

While Logan knew how to control others, he began to wonder about his own self-discipline.

He had almost lost control last night in Grace’s apartment.

No one is perfect. Not even Logan. Certainly not Arthur Cross.

Yet Arthur could prove most useful.

He watched Arthur get into the back of an Uber. Logan turned on the engine of his new rental car and followed Arthur home. At first, he kept his distance, always allowing at least one car between him and Cross’s Uber. As he drove across the city, he wondered how he should handle the approach.

Cross was not the first psychopath that Logan had encountered.

Dealing with large corporations at the highest levels, one invariably encountered the more ruthless and selfish of human beings, individuals whose psychological states gave them every advantage in climbing over their colleagues to reach the top.

In Logan’s experience, these people, while not always very clever, possessed an animal or primal instinct.

They could very easily discern when someone was telling them a lie.

It was almost as if untruths had a smell that only they could detect.

He would need to tell the truth. A direct approach would be best.

As Cross’s Uber entered a suburban area, there was no longer a buffer car for Logan to hide behind. He decided not to hide and tailed the Uber through the streets until it stopped outside a low 1960s suburban home with an unkempt lawn and rusty chicken-wire fencing surrounding the property.

Cross got out of the Uber.

Logan killed the engine and got out of his car.

He had been right not to try to hide. Cross was waiting outside his home, staring at him as he closed the car door.

The Uber driver took off.

Logan didn’t move. He stared at Cross.

Cross didn’t move either. He stared back.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke.

It wasn’t a stand-off. This was something else. An appraisal, of sorts.

He could feel Cross’s eyes lazily roaming over his body and finally settling on his face.

Cross’s face appeared dead. Blank. No emotion.

No fear. If Cross had looked this way at someone without Logan’s own psychological fortitude, they would feel deeply uncomfortable.

Cross’s gaze was not one which most could withstand for very long.

Perhaps Cross knew this on some level, because when Logan didn’t move or flinch, or break his gaze, a small twitch fell across Cross’s right eye.

It was momentary. But the first sign of irritation or, perhaps, unease.

Logan approached, stood at the bottom of the path leading to Cross’s front door.

‘Mr. Cross, I would very much like to talk to you,’ said Logan. ‘We appear to have some mutual acquaintances. I have a problem with a lawyer. I think you have a similar problem. Perhaps I can help you.’

‘What makes you think I need your help?’ said Cross warily.

‘I think we can help each other. I think we are not so different, you and I. You are smart enough to see that for yourself.’

Something else about the human psyche that has not changed in millennia – a predator can easily spot another predator.

Cross held Logan’s eyes in his iron gaze for a few moments.

Then Arthur Cross smiled.

It was a smile as cold as a silver coffin plate.