Maybe it was just the effect of the chemicals drying up, but it seemed to Aravena that she was the most arousing, most devastatingly desirable adult woman he had ever met. And he had seen her before. He was certain of it.

But where?

It came to him as he thrust the pen and the credit-card receipt across the counter to her. She was a friend of Erin’s.

He smiled with great enthusiasm. “Thank you for shopping at FastTrak.”

She nodded, grabbed the receipt, and left. Too bad.

But he would see her again.

He watched as she passed through the front doors to her car, swinging her hips, inviting everyone around to drool over her. How he would like to give her what she wanted. What she was asking for. How he would like to throw her down, knock her to the concrete, take her under the pumps, roll around in the gas and grease and-

But that would not be smart. It would be pleasurable. But not smart.

He glanced at the credit-card receipt in his hand. That was his passport. The key to whatever he wanted to know about-or to take from-Sheila Knight. He would call the credit-card company and say that she had left her card behind. They would give him her phone number. From her phone number he could get her address. From her address, he could get-her.

He smiled, feeling better than he had all day. Better than he could remember, actually.

The days of looking and talking and being a woman were over. From now on, he would be himself. Himself and no one else. The real Gabriel Aravena. Not the fake chemically induced, harmless-puppy variant. The real thing.

He would be visiting Sheila Knight. Soon. And it would be a visit she would never forget.

Ben was doing double time across the street toward his van when he heard Joni shout. “Be-en!”

He stopped, and a moment later, she caught up to him. “Sorry, Joni, I’m running late. I have to get to McAlester-”

“The penitentiary? To see another of your glamorous clients?”

“Something like that. You can give me the maintenance update later, okay?”

“It’s not about the house, Benjy. I took Giselle to the vet, like you asked.”

“And you got her… got her…”

“Fixed? No, I didn’t.”

“But you said-”

“I know I said I’d take care of it. But there was a problem.”

“I’m waiting.”

Joni grinned from one high cheekbone to the other. “She’s already preggers, Ben.”

The color drained from Ben’s face. “Giselle? Pregnant? How-?”

“Do I really need to explain that to you again, Ben?”

“I mean-she spends the whole day locked up in the apartment.”

“Apparently she busted out. Or a furry friend busted in.”

“But-she can’t! I’m in the middle of a huge life-or-death case. I don’t have time for this.”

“You’ll make time.”

“And-I don’t know anything about delivering kittens.”

“Don’t panic, Ben. I’ll be there for the blessed event. It usually pretty well takes care of itself.”

“And then there’ll be all those kittens!”

“That is usually how it works, yeah.”

“What am I going to do with all those kittens?”

“You’ll think of something.”

“This can’t happen, Joni. You’re the handyman. Do something… handy.”

Smiling, Joni put her arm around him and led him to his car. “Sorry, pal, it’s already a done deal.” She reached into the pocket of her flannel shirt and pulled out a pink candy cigar. “Congratulations, Ben. You’re going to be a father.”

“You know, I really shouldn’t be telling you this,” Dr. Bennett said as she artfully uncrossed and recrossed her legs. “I shouldn’t.”

Mike smiled. He was happy because his years of experience with interrogations told him that when the witness started insisting that they really shouldn’t be talking-it was a sure sign he was getting close to something good.

“I’m afraid we have to insist,” Sergeant Baxter said firmly.

She wasn’t playing hardball yet, but Mike knew she was only about two sentences away. And unless he missed his guess, once Baxter started playing the big bad, Bennett would retreat and the questioning would come to an abrupt end.

“First, there’s the matter of doctor-patient privilege to consider.”

“That didn’t prevent you from speaking with us before. You said the privilege died with Erin.”

“But that was different. At that time, you were inquiring into her death. I thought I not only could speak but should speak. But this.” She shook her head. “This is something altogether different. I don’t know that this has anything to do with her death.”

“With all due respect,” Baxter replied, “we have to be the judge of that.”

“I know, I know. But still…” Bennett’s hands gestured futilely in the air. “I just don’t like it.”

“We could subpoena you, Doctor.”

“Fine. Subpoena me. We both know what will happen. I’ll claim privilege, the judge will put me in jail for a few hours, and then I’ll go home. And you’ll be none the wiser.” She hesitated. “I just don’t know what I should do.”

Which was Mike’s cue. He stepped closer to the interrogation table. He had deliberately staged the questioning, calling Bennett at a time when she was out of the office and claiming great urgency, forcing her to come to him. He wanted this interview to take place at police headquarters, not in the cushy comfort of Bennett’s home or office. He didn’t want her to be comfortable. He wanted her to be on edge, at least a little. He wanted her to feel vulnerable.

“I know what you should do, ma’am. You should tell us everything you know. Even if you don’t see the relevance. You should give us unrestricted access to your files.”

“I can’t do that.”

“You can. And you will.” He leaned across the table, hunched like a vulture, his eyes burning into hers. “I insist.”

Bennett drew back. “Are you trying to intimidate me?”

“Yeah. Is it working?”

“Kind of.” She ran a nervous finger across her lips. “You do that smoldering-intensity thing really well.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice.”

“Seriously, some of my patients are major-league bad boys, murderers and rapists and such. But they don’t give me chills the way you just did.”

Mike shrugged. “It’s a gift.”

Bennett allowed herself a small smile. “What makes you so sure there was some dark family secret Erin was hiding?”

“I’m not sure of anything. But Dr. Harris was making some pretty broad hints, and he generally seemed to know what he was talking about.”

“The man is a quack.”

“But a quack who spent a lot of time talking to Erin Faulkner.”

“I don’t see how this could possibly relate to her death.”

“I do. And believe me when I say that if you withhold evidence that might help us break this case”-he glanced at Baxter-“or put it to bed once and for all, I will come down on you. Hard.”

Bennett’s long-nailed fingers fluttered in the air. “I can’t prove any of this.”

“Tell us what she told you.”

Bennett frowned, started again. “There were some indications of… child abuse. In Erin Faulkner’s past.”

“Indications from?”

Bennett sighed. “From Erin. She first revealed it to me during hypnosis. After that, she talked about it more freely.”

“And her father was the molester.”

“That was… what she said. Yes.” She took a shallow breath. “Do you mind if I smoke?”

“Actually, yes. I’ve quit and I don’t care to be tempted.”

“It would really calm me.”

All the more reason to say no. “Sorry. Departmental policy.”

She was wearing a vivid red dress that stopped at midthigh. Very attractive, but not very professional. Certainly not the image of the icy lady psychiatrist. Mike wondered if she had been planning to go out on a date. Or maybe hit the singles bars. “Erin was conflicted, and this dark chapter in her past only made it worse. Of course she grieved for what had happened to her family, and she felt a good deal of guilt about having survived when the others did not. But I sensed there was also a certain amount of… relief.”