A Study of Evil
The only thing worse than meeting a monster is becoming one.
The room smelled of bleach and peppermint gum. Dr. Neil Canter hated peppermint. It masked the rot.
Canter caught his reflection in the darkened two-way mirror. His hair was slicked back with enough gel to make it look like plastic. He shot his cuffs. Gold links clinked against the steel table. He ran a thumb over the lapel of his charcoal suit. Italian wool. The fabric scratched his neck, but he liked the weight of it.
He clicked his pen. Once. Twice.
Across the steel table sat Arthur Pine.
