~Summary:~

FBI Special Agent Maya Sinclair interviews a potential witness in a strange suicide investigation and encounters a mysterious man with such highly attuned hypnosis skills, they seem supernatural.

A confident, keenly intelligent woman in a profession where she feels she has hit a glass ceiling, she takes advantage of his talents to advance her career. But, can she keep from losing herself to his forbidden temptations and his powerful charm?

—

"Thank you for agreeing to meet me here," Maya Sinclair said to the man sitting across from her. She opened a portfolio and placed two files in front of her on the coffee shop table next to her notebook. The man looked to be in his early 40's. His jet black hair was showing gray at the temples and he wore a tailored white shirt with casual slacks.

The coffee shop was nearly empty this late in the afternoon. Lace curtains softened the fading light that filtered through tall windows, casting warm patterns on the polished wooden floor.

"Certainly, Agent Sinclair. I am happy to help you in your investigation," replied the man.

32-year-old FBI Special Agent Maya Sinclair possessed a strikingly alluring presence that belied her sharp intellect and formidable skills. Her dark chestnut hair fell in soft waves just past her shoulders, framing a face of angular elegance.

She wore the 'uniform' of the FBI but with her own personal flair: a dark suit tailored to look attractive on her while concealing her shoulder-holstered service weapon. An FBI ID badge hung from her neck. She opened the top file on the table, showing an investigation report with a set of photos paperclipped to the top.

"Mr. Kross, we are investigating an apparent suicide under fairly unusual circumstances. Do you know the name Mason Reed?"

"Ah, I think I heard about him in the news. He is the one who recently killed himself while livestreaming it on the internet?"

"Yes. Did you know him personally?"

"No."

"Did you ever speak to him?"

Donovan Kross thought for a moment. "Hmm... as a matter of fact, I did. Only twice that I can recall, though."

"And when was that?"

"Both times were a couple of days ago."

"And what was the subject of the conversations?"

Donovan brought his coffee cup to his lips. "I'm afraid that's a little personal, Agent Sinclair. I'm not sure what it has to do with your investigation."

"You were the last person to speak to him. That conversation, according to the log on his cellphone, was twenty-seven minutes long. Thirteen minutes later, he slit his wrists in front of the entire internet.

"The logs also showed this was the first and only time he had ever called you. So, yes, Mr. Kross, I think it might have something to do with our investigation. What did you talk about?"

"You can call me Donovan," he replied with a warm smile.

"What did you talk about, Donovan?" she responded, a hint of irritation in her voice.

Donovan set the coffee down and leaned forward slightly. "Agent Sinclair.... am I under suspicion of any crime?"

"No, but - "

He sat back again, "Then I'd prefer not to answer. It was a personal matter."

Sinclair tapped the file thoughtfully for a few seconds. This was just a suicide, clearly, but she had a nagging feeling there was something more to this and it involved this man.

Changing gears, Agent Sinclair pulled a small plastic bag with a card in it from the file. The bag had a sticker on it marking it as evidence, and the card inside looked to be a business card, ivory colored, but with words in fine calligraphy instead of print. It simply read 'Donovan Kross' with a phone number. "I take it this is your card?"

"Of course."

"It was found in Reed's possession. The lab guys say this is not printed in any print shop, but is hand written. You made this yourself?"

"No, I'm afraid I'm not that talented. I have a friend that makes them for me. It's a friend who shares my taste for, I suppose you might say, 'classical elegance.'"

"How did Reed get this card?"

"I gave it to him. I met him for the first time earlier that day. He seemed troubled. I thought I might be able to help him, so I gave him the card and told him he could call me if he needed help."

"Help him how? You are a psychologist or something?"

"No, no, nothing like that. Just a guy who likes to help people when he can… Forgive me, Agent, but I do have a question. This sounds to me like just a suicide, albeit a bit of a flashy one. Even a high profile suicide, I would think, would be a matter for local police. Why is the FBI involved?"

Sinclair's eyes narrowed slightly. "It turns out Reed was a serial killer. Severed fingers of seventeen victims he kept as trophies were found on the premises. Also there was a cache of explosives and bomb-making supplies, as well as what appeared to be plans to blow up the university football stadium during this weekend's game.

"I'm sure you can understand why we are involved... and why we are taking a very hard look at you, Mr. Kross."

Donovan sat in contemplation for several seconds, then sighed heavily. "I tell you what, Agent Sinclair. I will make you a deal. Tell me what you know about me and I will tell you everything I know about what happened to Reed. I will answer all of your questions. I will confess to you completely. How does that sound?"

Well, no sense in keeping her cards close to the vest. They didn't have anything really. This whole trip was just grasping at straws. She might as well play along and see what she could get.

"Okay, Mr. Kross. Frankly, we don't know much about you at all. I researched the name and number. No records of a Donovan Kross exist, and the phone number belongs to some offshore shell corporation. Nothing but dead-ends and nothing else connects you to this case in any way. If you hadn't answered the phone when I called the number, we would never have found you." They had actually tried to call the number several times from various FBI lines and only got a disconnected notice. It wasn't until she called from her personal cell phone after an intern's playful suggestion that the line worked.

"You said you were taking a hard look at me, but the card is the only thing you have? There is no other evidence casting any suspicion on me and no real way to find me if I didn't want to be found, is that right?"

Sinclair shifted a bit in her chair. "Yes. I suppose that's fair to say."

"And if this meeting never happened, your agency would give up on trying to find me? Just another dead end?"

She hesitated. She didn't have any kind of leverage on this man, and he knew it. "I.... yes. Yes, I think that's true."

"I see. I am happy to hear that. Okay then, Agent. You have held up your end of our little deal. I will confess to you everything now. During that conversation I had with him, I convinced him to kill himself."

"You.... what?"

"I ran into him at the grocery store earlier that day, and I sensed that he was deeply mentally disturbed, maybe even dangerously so. I couldn't really do anything about it then, in public, but I wanted to help him if I could or stop him before he hurt someone, so I gave him my card and persuaded him to call me when he got home."

"'Persuaded' him?"

"Yes, well, I can be very persuasive."

"What do you mean you 'sensed' his mental state?"

"I am... pretty good at reading people -- their body language, mannerisms, speech patterns. I get a very good intuitive sense of people very quickly. Surely you have an idea of what I mean? People often get a 'gut feeling' about people. He was just obviously 'off' to me."

Sinclair said incredulously, "and so when you talked, you then persuaded him to kill himself? How is that even possible?"

"He was already suicidal. He told me he had already killed a number of people and wanted to kill himself spectacularly, killing as many people as he could. He wanted to be famous.

"I just got him to shift the focus a bit. I suggested he could kill himself in a way that would make him even more famous if he did it on camera. That way, nobody got hurt."

"So, you expect me to believe that in one conversation, he admitted to you he was a murderer and you talked him into suicide."

"That about sums it up."

"Why would he just admit to you, someone he never really talked to before, that he killed people?"

"Like I said, I can be very persuasive."

Sinclair rubbed her temples. This 'confession' was ridiculous. Why was he yanking her chain with this nonsense? "You expect me to believe you have some kind of 'mind control power' Mr. Kross?! You can just tell people what to do, and they just do it?"

"No! Of course not! It's not mind control," he said reassuringly. "I can't make anyone do anything they don't already have some desire to do. I'm just very good at... presenting things to someone in a way that frames their perceptions so that their desires can express themselves."

The story was just so ridiculous. Of course, this whole case was strange and so much unexplainable mystery surrounded this man. Given that, she would have bought just about any crazy story, but talking someone into killing themselves with just a phone call?

"This is nonsense. That would still have to be some kind of super power or something. Sounds like one of those 'turning women into mindless sex slaves' porn things."

"Well, I can't turn a woman into a mindless sex slave..."

Sinclair was getting fed up. She had clearly wasted her entire evening on this worthless lead. "Oh, please. This is some sort of prank, right? I am not amused, Mr. Kross... or whatever your real name is. You obviously don't have any kind of 'mind powers.' You obviously can't control me in any way, so stop wasting my time and --"

"Maya." Maya Sinclair fell silent. With just the sound of her name, spoken so softly and warmly by this man, her train of thought was completely derailed. "Maya, why do you think my 'powers' won't work on you? They already have. They have from the first time we talked." Maya had a confused look on her face.

Donovan continued softly, "Think about it for a second. You came and met me at this coffee shop alone. You didn't bring your partner. Have you ever talked to a person connected with a case before without your partner?" Maya's eyes widened, staring forward, and she swallowed hard as the truth dawned on her. No partner. No backup... was she lured into some kind of a trap? If she disappeared now, nobody would even know where to begin to look for her…

"No. I didn't think so," Donovan continued. "But you did today. I suggested to you when we talked on the phone that it was perfectly safe, and maybe you didn't even need to waste anyone's time telling them you  were meeting me. You didn't tell anyone, did you." She shook her head almost imperceptibly. She was terrified, but like a deer in the headlights, she couldn't react.

"Agent Sinclair... I have one more confession to make to you," he said in nearly a whisper. Donovan leaned all the way forward and put his hand on hers on top of the table. Looking deep into her eyes, he continued, "My persuasive skill does work over a phone, but not terribly well.... it works much, much better when I can touch the person and have eye contact..."

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