"It wasn't just Rachel," Stride reminded her. "We've got Graeme's footprints at the barn, too-don't forget that Remember the shoes he bought and then couldn't produce? To me, that says they were both there. Whatever happened between them, it was enough to spook Rachel and make her ran."

"But we know Graeme didn't kill her," Serena said.

Stride proceeded to explain to Serena his alternate theory about what might have happened between Rachel and Graeme that night at the barn, and how Rachel might have turned to a friend to help her escape.

Serena stared at the ceiling, nodding thoughtfully. She brushed her hair out of her eyes and drank from a can of Diet Coke. "That's not bad. But it leaves us with no obvious motive for anyone from Duluth to kill her three years later."

"Except for Dan," Maggie said, smirking.

"If Rachel ran, who helped her?" Serena asked. "Dayton Tenby? I'm still suspicious of him hunting up and down the Strip for little lost Rachel."

Stride shook his head. "Dayton and Emily were in Minneapolis that Friday night, having an affair."

"Unless Rachel called her mother," Serena said.

"I think Emily is the last person Rachel would have called," Stride said.

Maggie pursed her lips. "This all comes back to Sally. We know she saw Rachel the night she left town. She lied about it from the start And she would have been very unhappy if Rachel came back to Duluth after all these years to say in to Kevin."

Stride pulled out his cell phone. "Sally and Kevin are shacking up in an apartment near the university. I tried to call them earlier, but there was no answer."

He dialed again. After five rings, he was ready to hang up, but then he heard a female voice on the line.

"Hello? Sally?" Stride frowned and listened. "Do you know where she is? I'm a friend, and I need to reach her right away."

He waited for the reply and then hung up with a brief good-bye.

It seems Kevin and Sally are due back later tonight. That was the neighbor who's taking care of their cat. They've been on a cross-country driving trip for the last two weeks. To the Grand Canyon."

"Well, well" Maggie said.

"I-40," Serena added. "Five hours to Vegas."

Cordy enjoyed the envious stares as he and Lavender promenaded through the lobby of the Bellagio, underneath the giant, multicolored glass flowers that decorated the ceiling. As a couple, they were cool and attractive, a perfect fit for the upscale surroundings. Cordy wore a black collarless silk shirt, a gold chain, and a crisply pressed tan linen suit. His shoes were polished to a reflective glow, and a waft of fragrance oozed from his slicked hair. Lavender wore a formfitting red bodysuit, with ovals strategically cut away to reveal generous patches of ebony skin and to confirm for everyone who stared mat she wore neither a bra nor panties. She couldn't have attracted more attention if she were naked.

As they entered the Bellagio's elegant Japanese restaurant, he saw the eyes of a dozen Asian businessmen lock onto Lavender through a cloud of cigarette smoke. She flirted with them as she sat down, confidently staring back.

"What's it like?" Cordy asked.

He didn't say what he meant, but Lavender understood. The attention. The stares. What's it like to trail men's eyes wherever you go?

"I love it," Lavender said. She had a sly smile and a breathy voice, with a hint of the street lingering in her twang. "I'm the queen, baby. I've got the power."

She licked her broad lips with her tongue, and Cordy felt her shoeless foot stroking his ankle under the table. The waiter came over, a wizened, expressionless Japanese man in a starched tuxedo, and Lavender began ordering things he didn't recognize, like ika, maguro, and uni.

"What are we getting?" Cordy asked when the waiter left.

"Tuna. Yellowtail. Squid. Sea urchin. Things like that."

"Sea urchin? I'm going to throw up."

"Trust me," Lavender said.

Cordy jerked his thumb at the Asian businessmen at the other tables. "No offense, Lav, but why work where you do? I mean, shouldn't you be living on an island with one of those guys?"

"You got a problem with what I do? If so, tell me now, okay? Don't waste my time."

"No, no," Cordy protested.

Lavender jabbed a finger at him. "The only people who humiliate themselves are the guys drooling in the audience every night I'm in control. They worship me. There's nothing wrong with that. You ask why I do it. Simple. For the m-o-n-e-y."

"Sorry," Cordy said.

"Don't be. Everyone asks. But you have to get over it baby, or we've got a short evening ahead."

The waiter brought a black lacquer tray, elegantly arrayed with gold-flecked rolls and slivers of fish, each tied to a sticky mound of rice with a black belt of seaweed. It turned out that Cordy liked sushi a lot particularly the way Lavender balanced each piece on the chopsticks and fed him bites. She herself ate in a big way, stuffing a roll into her mouth and grinning at him as she wolfed it down. He didn't recall ever being so turned on simply by eating dinner.

When they were done, Lavender ordered sake, and Cordy was surprised to find the liquor both hot and intoxicating, given how little fit into each glass and how smoothly it slid down his throat. They went through two miniature carafes before Cordy called for the check and paid it with a slight grimace of pain.

They left the restaurant and Cordy discovered to his delight that they were now holding hands. Her hips swished against his side as they strolled through the casino. Her fingers rubbed the inside of his palm, and he realized that even that small touch aroused him. The stares of other patrons continued to follow them.

"So how come you're not dating your hottie partner?" Lavender asked.

"Who, Serena? She's a friend, and that's that. Not my type."

Lavender poked him in the side. "Yeah, right. She may have a few years on you, but she's still a looker. You never made a play for her?"

Cordy shrugged. "She set me straight from day one. No hanky-panky. And everybody already knows her reputation. Guys ask her out, she cuts off their balls. She's got barbed wire around her."

"Why is that?" Lavender asked.

Cordy shook his head. "She hasn't told me." He let his hand slide down her back and come to rest on the curve of her buttocks. He rubbed her skin through one of the oval slits in her dress. "So you want to play for a while?"

"You mean gambling or fucking?"

"Isn't it the same thing? I get screwed either way."

Lavender threw her head back and laughed. "I like you, baby. Yeah, I like you."

"I like you, too. Listen, I got a five-hundred-dollar bill in my wallet. Let me play until I lose it or double it, and then we'll go to your place."

Lavender tugged on his chin and planted her luscious lips on his mouth, pressing her tongue inside. "Just make it quick."

Cordy steered her to the high-limit slots area. He normally played five-dollar blackjack at the tables at Sam's Town, but he didn't feel like sitting at a table and getting into the rhythm of the game. Besides, it felt like penny ante tonight. His luck was high, and he wanted to ride Lavender like a good luck charm. He chose a five-dollar Triple Play video poker machine that took up to five coins per hand, which meant the maximum bet on each pull was seventy-five dollars. Win or lose, it would be quick, and then they could get to the real business of the evening.

Over the next ten minutes, he shot ahead three hundred dollars, before sinking back after a quick series of losing hands. Then he hit a straight on two out of three hands and was well ahead again, although he hadn't quite doubled his money. He felt the usual fever overtaking him, and the only thing that kept him from losing himself in the game was the sensation of Lavender's fingers creeping closer to his crotch. Between the blips of the machine and the aching of his erection, his mind was flying.