Through all of it, her heart throbbed with a dull pain that turned sharp whenever she thought about Trey. Her heart ached for him, and what he'd been through, and it hurt for herself--for the thought that she'd never see him again.


Through the closed door, he could hear the thumping bass of loud music. Trey turned the knob and opened the door. The music got louder.

He walked into a huge open room, with high ceilings criss-crossed by a network of ductwork and pipes. The walls were all white save the long outside wall, which was natural creamy brick. Hardwood floors stretched to the far end of the room where a photo shoot was taking place.

Three women dressed in very little were arranged on and around a chaise longue upholstered in a plush leopard print fabric. The blonde with long, tousled curls wore a white lace bustier, thong panties and a garter belt, with white stockings on her long legs. The brunette, with similar long hair, was dressed in a black lace bra and tiny underwear that looked like shorts, and the redhead wore a bronze-colored satin camisole and thong. The scene glowed in the brilliant lights directed down on it, vivid and rich with color and texture.

A huge background hung from a large dowel suspended from the ceiling, rolling down behind them and across the floor. A woman dressed all in black made an adjustment to the bronze camisole, while another man and woman stood off to the side, watching.

Justin Timberlake was bringing sexy back to a throbbing beat booming from a killer stereo system sitting on a counter on one side of the room.

The scene was seductive with the three gorgeous models, but it was the photographer who drew his attention. She stood beside a camera mounted on a tripod with her back to him, long golden curls handing down almost to her waist. She was dancing, her hips moving temptingly in time to the music, watching and waiting as the woman in black made her adjustments, then scooted off the scene in her stocking feet. As he moved farther into the room, watching with fascination, the models all looked at him, and Marli turned to see what had distracted them.

Her lush mouth parted into a surprised O and she stilled, staring at him.

"Trey."

He smiled at her. Man, she was gorgeous. Her skinny jeans hugged those long, long legs and the thin T-shirt she wore over them outlined her curvy body. His heart was about to pound right out of his chest at the sight of her.

"Sorry. I'm interrupting."

She nodded, her green eyes huge. "Um...yeah." She glanced back at the models. "I need to finish this."

"Is it okay if I wait?"

"Sure. We're almost done." She licked her lips, which made him want to lick them, too, and turned back to the group posed before her. "Sorry, ladies," she said cheerfully. "Let's finish this up."

She moved back behind her camera and started shooting, firing off shots rapidly, while encouraging the models in their poses. The music changed to the Black Eyed Peas singing "Pump It", and Marli's body continued to move to the music as she worked. When she finally called a halt, the models stood up, stretched, and wandered off the set. He couldn't help but watch them with appreciation as they all went into a corner blocked off by screens.

He turned his attention back to Marli, who was grinning at him.

"Put your eyes back in your head," she told him, green eyes sparkling with humor.

"Hey," he said, "it's just nice scenery."

She nodded knowingly. "Very nice. Coquette Lingerie. I do all their photography."

The woman in black had been packing up some bags, chatting with the other couple, and now slung them over her shoulder. "I'm outta here, Marli," she announced, eyeing Trey. She smiled. "Nice working with you, as always. I guess I'll see you next week on that shoot for West Coast Mall."

"Yeah, you betcha. Thanks, Whitney."

"Thanks, Marli," called the other woman, picking up a purse and briefcase off the counter. "When will you e-mail me the link to the shots?"

"Tomorrow," Marli replied. "Then we'll talk."

The man and woman also left.

Trey looked around her studio. "This is impressive."

"Thanks." She went over to the big window on the outside wall and raised the thick black blind covering it. The room became lighter, but it had been raining all day, so the light remained weak and grey. She walked over to the camera and removed the memory card, took it over to a Mac computer on a desk.

"Just let me get these started downloading," she murmured, eyes on the monitor, one hand clicking the mouse. Then she straightened and went back to the camera. He watched as she deftly removed the camera from the tripod, twisted the battery compartment and removed the battery, then connected it to a recharger on the counter. She tucked the camera away in a camera bag.

Trey wandered over to look at framed photographs of her work on one wall. One by one, the models came out from behind the screen, now dressed in Tshirts and jeans or baggy cargo pants, looking decidedly less glamorous.

"'Bye, Marli," they all called, waving perfectly manicured hands as they left the studio.

And then they were alone. Trey swallowed nervously.

Marli unplugged lights, took down umbrellas and lowered the lights on their stands.

"So, how are you?" she asked. She removed a reflector from the light and put on some kind of cap.

"I'm good. Ah...you have a lot of equipment here."

She smiled. "Yes."

She continued her work, removing lights from the stands and putting them away in cases while he debated what to say.

"Not to sound rude, but what are you doing here?" she finally asked, folding up a light stand.

"I wanted to tell you what was happening with Sheldon Barnes."

"Oh. Okay."

"He's back in San Diego now, on suicide watch. He confessed everything, in fact, he confessed to even more murders than we knew about. He apparently went on for hours, confessing to killing about fifty women. The detective who interrogated him said he was a pretty smooth talker."

"He is," Marli confirmed, her voice sad.

"They said they could see how he used his charm to lure women to trust him. When they told him we were interested in him for five murders, he laughed and told them it was more like fifty."

Marli made a shocked noise, standing there with an umbrella in her hand.

Trey shook his head. "Don't necessarily believe that," he said dryly. "I'd never believe anything a sexual criminal tells me without hard evidence or witnesses. He'll deny, exaggerate, manipulate...basically lie through his teeth." Trey shook his head. "But he'd moved around so much, working on ranches, other odd jobs, he could easily have killed women in a lot of places and then just left town. They're reopening cases in Texas and New Mexico."

"Sounds like he loves the attention," Marli observed.

"Yeah, no kidding. Narcissistic personality. Exaggerating his exploits to impress people, grandiose fantasies. But eventually he stopped talking and asked for an attorney. Claimed to be totally innocent. Said he'd just been joking. All those women, he said he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, just an unhappy coincidence."

"Bullshit."

He smiled.

"Trey, what makes someone do things like that?"

"Oh, lots of things." He ran a hand through his hair.

"Is he insane? Would they let him off because of that?"

Trey shook his head. "No. His behavior was too violent, although he definitely seems as though he has that sociopathic personality." He paused. "He had problems dealing with anger and, frustration. His upbringing had a lot to do with it. His relationship with his mother. All along, I believed he was getting his gratification from the thrill of controlling a woman...the power he had over her as he raped her. The power his mother had over him."

"Did she... Was he abused?"

"Emotionally abused, for sure. Some physical abuse. Not sure about sexual." He shrugged. "He was so angry at his mother, that's why his victims were always blonde women. That's why the murders were so brutally aggressive."

"Why did he stalk me, though?" she asked. "I was thinking about it, and it wasn't like the other murders. You said he'd always just leave after, go somewhere else."

"You laughed at him," he reminded her. "I recall that his mother laughed at him for wanting to be a cowboy, too. And you rejected him. It set him off and made him act outside his usual pattern."

She nodded slowly.

"You know, we all have the ability to distort reality in our minds, to protect ourselves, make us feel okay about ourselves. A psychopath already lies without remorse, but this just adds to that. He may well have convinced himself that he really wasn't doing anything wrong. He believed you'd really done something to him."

"Oh, God."

"Most of us can recognize we do that--that our perceptions aren't necessarily reality--but he wouldn't be motivated to do that, clearly, in trying to protect himself from being convicted and from a death penalty."

"You didn't come all the way here just to tell me that." She closed up a case of equipment with a snap.

His lips curved. "No. Maybe we could sit down somewhere and talk." He looked around.

Marli motioned to the leopard chaise, no longer lit by the powerful lights.

He went over and sat down, and she came and sat beside him, leaning against the curved back of it. A vision of her, clad in lingerie, lounging on the chair, flashed into his head and he almost groaned.