Shayla gently gripped Laura’s hands. “I promise, if they don’t come back after a while, well, then I will. And meanwhile, I’ll tell you anything I know that happened that you told me that’s not…well…”

“Sexual?”

Shayla smiled as she nodded. “Right. Or stuff that I was there for.” Her smile faded. “I promise you,” she softly said, “there’s nothing bad. Not that I know of, and we were close enough that if there was bad stuff, I’d know about it.”

A thought occurred to her. “Did I have any exes? Anyone who might want to do this to me?”

“No. No one that I know of. You dated a couple of guys before you met Rob.”

Suddenly, this felt very important. “Why did I break up with them?”

“Well, one guy cheated on you. Another took a job in New York and you didn’t want a long-distance relationship. And another guy, you only dated him a few weeks before you realized you just didn’t have a lot in common with him. But I knew him. He met someone else and ended up marrying her over a year ago. They’re expecting a baby.”

Laura’s hope faded. “Amicable break-ups?”

“Yes. Well, except for Cheater McSleazy. You were ready to kill him, but he left without a peep. And that was years ago. Why?”

She reached for her omelet. “It was just a hope that maybe there might be a clue to who did this.”

“I don’t know anyone who’d want to do this to you.”

Laura stared at her omelet and made herself take another bite even though her appetite faded with her hope. “I wish I did. I wish I could remember if I did.”

* * *

At 8:55 a.m., Det. Thomas’ desk phone rang. He’d been in the middle of going through several reports he’d been emailed overnight from other law enforcement agencies about unsolved cases with striking similarities to Laura Spaulding’s attack.

“Thomas.”

“Detective, this is Tony Daniels. We spoke briefly last night.”

His full attention shifted from the reports to the caller. “Rob Carlton’s friend?”

“Yes. Everyone will be available to meet with you at nine o’clock tonight at my house.”

He rifled through a pile of papers on his desk for a pen. “Address?”

It was off Bee Ridge in Sarasota, east of I-75.

“No need for court orders, then, I take it?” Daniels asked.

Thomas closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d awoken with a migraine threatening, with no signs of it going away anytime soon. “Look, as long as everyone cooperates with me, I don’t have any desire to drag anyone through the mud.”

“Believe me, we want the asshole who did this to her caught as badly as you do. Unfortunately, none of us know anything that will be of help. You don’t think one of the first thoughts we had was maybe someone from the lifestyle had it out for her?”

He leaned back in his chair. “You let me be the judge of the value of the information, Mr. Daniels.”

“We will. The only person who might not be there right on time is my wife, Shayla, and that’s because she’s at the hospital with Laura while Rob’s at work.”

Maybe he’d have to pay Laura another visit that morning or afternoon. “I take it she’s close to Laura?” He already knew that much from the text messages.

“They’re best friends. But if you do go talk to her at the hospital, keep in mind Rob isn’t telling Laura anything about their BDSM dynamic, or about any of us being into it, either. So please do everyone a favor and not mention that in front of Laura.”

He didn’t want to lose his patience with the guy, but between stress and the migraine, he was heading in that direction. “I’ll respect your intelligence, Mr. Daniels, if you’ll respect mine. If you’ll drop the adversarial attitude we’ll all get along just fine. I’ll be there at nine.” He hung up before the other man could respond, his head throbbing.

Despite putting a rush on it, they still hadn’t received the DNA results back from the FDLE labs yet. He glanced at the email he’d been reading, the PDF copy of a file about a case in Georgia. Seven months earlier, a college coed home for the weekend had been viciously beaten, raped, and strangled.

And the knot on the rope looked like the knot on the rope put around Laura’s neck by her attacker. Not that it was a concrete clue, just one of many. That victim, twenty-year-old Alicia Smith, hadn’t merely been beaten, but kicked, bitten, and brutalized so badly that her parents had been unable to identify her by her face.

It had been a small butterfly tattoo on the inside of her right ankle, a memorial to a friend killed in a car accident the year before, that had provided their positive ID.

No suspects. No sign of forced entry. Her parents discovered her body when they returned home from an overnight trip to Savannah the next morning.

Nothing stolen from the home, but a bracelet she normally wore was missing. Unfortunately, neither parent could positively remember if she’d been wearing it when she arrived home from her dorm, and it hadn’t been found among her possessions there, either. Her roommate remembered seeing her wearing it earlier in the week, but had left for her home Friday afternoon before Alicia and didn’t know if she’d been wearing it.

The case was at a standstill. No history of drug use on the part of the victim, she wasn’t in a relationship, and the roommate and the roommate’s boyfriend had concrete alibis and no motive.

DNA results hadn’t matched up with any samples currently on file from inmates in any criminal database. It was, however, linked to three other unsolved crimes scattered across the US with similar patterns.

As Thomas rubbed at the bridge of his nose and stared at the crime scene photos included with the report, he suspected he was about to become far better acquainted with Alicia Smith’s case, and the others.

* * *

Rob hated that he couldn’t spend the day with Laura, but knew Shayla would call him immediately if any issues cropped up.

The morning started out busy, with an accident and then a call about a heart attack.

Unfortunately for him, the rest of the morning slowed down, leaving plenty of time for thinking while doing busy work like inventory and cleaning the rig.

He’d looked through some old pictures last night, one standing out in his mind. For Tony and Shayla’s private “Kinkmas” party that past December, Rob had turned Laura into his own Christmas tree. Complete with decorations hung from nipple clamps, wrist cuffs, collar, and hip harness, and a strand of battery-operated lights wrapped around her while she struggled not to climax from the vibrating egg held inside her by the harness. The picture showed her decked out with a playful, sexy grin on her face.

Fun times.

He closed his eyes and relived the night. They’d arrived early so they could help Tony and Shayla get things ready. Once it was time for the others to arrive, he’d ordered Laura to strip.

And the fun began.

She’d spent the evening in a perpetual state of horniness, the vibrating egg tormenting her but not strong enough to get her off. He’d taken great sadistic pleasure in periodically removing the nipple clamps, to let the blood flow back into them. Then he’d play with them, rolling them between his fingers and driving up her need even more before reapplying the clamps.

Two hours later, she’d been begging him for a scene, knowing full well pleasure would come at a cost.

He’d started out by undecorating her, except for her cuffs and play collar, and removing the egg before strapping her down to a bench. Next came the bare-handed spanking, warming her ass and making his cock ache with desire. He’d spent the evening hard, and this made him throb even more.

Others were already playing but Rob’s full attention totally focused on Laura. As if the entire world faded away, he watched every breath she took, listened to every sound she made. He caressed her flesh, tracing her sweet curves and enjoying the way she arched against his hand.

He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her head up. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

“I want Sir to play with me and make me come.”

He leaned in closer. “That means you take the pain to get the pleasure.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Do you want to take it?”

“Yes, Sir.” It came out a happy sigh.

He tenderly kissed her forehead. “Such a good girl,” he murmured in her ear.

He went to his implement bag and pulled out a leather slapper that he knew she liked. It delivered just enough sting to give the desired effect.

With his left hand on her ass and the implement in his right, he gave her a light slap as a warning. Then he started in earnest, working up and down her ass and thighs, across her shoulders and the back of her arms, even between her legs, lightly slapping her pussy.

When he reached between her legs he found her juices practically dripping from her. After slowly fucking her with his fingers, he walked around and pulled her head up again by her hair.

“Open.”

She did, sucking his fingers without hesitation. He judged from her glazed expression that she’d already gone deep into subspace.

“Such a good girl.”

He blindfolded her and buckled her favorite rubber ball gag around her head before delving into the implement bag again. This time, he pulled out several items. The first, an etched acrylic paddle that he used with a little more force than he had the slapper. By the time he finished with it a couple of minutes later, Laura’s ass and thighs were pink and she’d started squirming against her bonds.

Next, the riding crop. This drew muffled yelps from her as welts began appearing across her flesh. Followed by a wooden paddle that had her sobbing after just a few strokes.