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CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE: IF TOMORROW NEVER COMES ( aka 04x15: zoe's reprise ) ( trigger warning: sexual content )
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DALLIS SAT IN THE back of the bookstore, listening attentively to the man reading from a novel with his name printed in large letters across the cover. The lights were dimmed and focused solely on him, casting warm reflections on the hard lines of his face. He was consumed by the world he'd created with his writing, and he drew both his readers and his girlfriend into that universe headfirst along with him.
"Dahmer, Lake and Ng, DeBardeleben, Berdella and others. At the core of these criminals is a need for control," said David Rossi. Beside Dallis, a girl who was maybe twenty was eagerly writing in a notebook, recording every word that came from his mouth. It made Dallis smile. She was so focused, stopping only to push her glasses up the bridge of her nose when they frustratingly kept slipping down. "Killing was an act that provided a release so sexually satisfying that they were compelled to repeat the fantasy with multiple victims, again and again. It is this continuum of violence that we will explore in Deviance: The Secret Desires of Sadistic Serial Killers."
Applause erupted around Dallis as Rossi let his book shut. She couldn't contain her smile from morphing into a grin when she saw Rossi's cheeks were dusted a light shade of pink. All she wanted was to run up and hug him -- his tenth-anniversary book tour was only two weeks in and this was her first time attending in person -- but she refrained as his fans waited for directions from Theresa, the owner of the Cleveland bookstore.
"Signed copies of Agent David Rossi's tenth-anniversary edition of his best-seller are on sale tonight."
She then directed fans to form a long line, allowing them the opportunity to meet the David Rossi. Dallis hung back and watched as they tripped over each other to be the first to ask him a question. She would have him all to herself later tonight. For now, she was happy to share him with people who appreciated his mind just about as much as she did.
Well, almost everyone.
As she stood behind a couple eagerly clutching their books, Dallis rocked back and forth on her heels, torn between watching Rossi and eyeing Theresa, who now hovered at a nearby table like a bad smell. She was only a few years older than Dallis with glossy brown hair, tanned skin and pearly white teeth. She wore a fitted floral dress that hugged her slim waist, and Dallis was sure that Theresa was a nice (and attractive) woman, but in that moment she couldn't fight the rush of resentment that flooded her gut. Dallis did not like Theresa and the way she paid attention to Dallis' boyfriend.
"I find your career so fascinating," the woman in front of her exclaimed. Dallis' eyes suddenly sharpened. She'd spent so long lost in thought that the line in front of her had lessened considerably. "What's it like to interview serial killers?"
