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“And after you knew? Did you want me? Not just because I told you to?”

She tilted her face up to me. Her eyelashes fluttered.

“Yes,” she said quietly.

“I wish I could believe you,” I said.

“Why don’t you?” She frowned. “I’m telling you now. There’s no reason for me to lie.”

“There are always reasons to lie,” I said, waving my hand in irritation. “But it wouldn’t have to be a lie. I have too much first-hand experience with Stockholm Syndrome.”

“Is that what you think this is?”

“Isn’t it?” My voice grew louder as anger swept through me. I wanted her. I’d confided to her. And it made me irrationally mad to think that she wasn’t real. It made me even angrier to hear her deny it. “Don’t tell me you’re not acting.”

“How can I prove that? How can I do anything but tell you I’m not lying?” She sounded as frustrated as I felt.

I blinked. Proof. Vale needed proof. So did I. I had an idea. Crazy, maybe. But it would help narrow my options. Jake still hadn’t called me back about Susan Steadhill, and time was running out. I was uncertain about Sara, but maybe I didn’t need to be.

“Come here,” I said. I offered a hand to her, pulling her up from the ground. She stood, and I realized that she wasn’t wearing any panties. She needed something to change into.

Yes. That would be fine. That would be just fine.

“Come with me,” I said, pulling her hand. I might be crazy. It might not work. But maybe it would.

“Where are we going?” she said.

“We’re going to have a date,” I said.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Sara

Rien wouldn’t tell me what he was doing. A date? I had no idea what he meant by that. In the operating room, he pulled out a length of cotton gauze. When he turned to me with it, I gulped.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m not going to gag you.”

“Then what—”

“Turn around.”

I obeyed, and his hands pulled the cotton gauze over my eyes. His fingers knotted the gauze at the back of my head. Everything was white and fuzzy.

“I don’t trust you yet,” he said, his voice close to my ear. “But maybe I will be able to.”

A frightened thrill ran through me. His hand pressed on my lower back and I let him lead me out. We stepped through to the library, and I heard the bookcase close. Then I heard a metal bolt click, and the creak of the oak door. The floor was cold under my feet.

“We’re going into your house?” I asked.

“I don’t let anyone back here,” he said.

“Is that because it’s so messy you have to blindfold people to walk them through the house?”

“No,” he said. “I don’t want you seeing any points of exit.”

“Right. Because you don’t trust me yet.”

“And because I want to do something to you.”

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