“I think you’re right. Just the fact that they were willing to admit to intimate relationships and put themselves in that police spotlight makes it fairly certain they were telling the truth. But I don’t believe Jamie was truly bisexual, that she enjoyed sex with men and women.”

“Then why sleep with the men? Just to keep her secret life secret?”

“I’d say so. Emily was right; in a small town like Hastings, any successful woman like Jamie would hesitate to come out of the closet. Especially if that closet contained whips, chains, and black leather. She wouldn’t have wanted that image in a client’s mind while she was trying to sell them real estate.”

“Hell, I don’t want the image in my head. But it’s there now.”

Isabel smiled wryly. “I know. The question is, how important is this information? Is it what triggered our killer’s compulsion? Did he find out he could never possess Jamie Brower the way he needed to? Did he discover her secret and find himself unable to bear it for some other reason?”

“Or,” Mallory finished, “is it just an extraneous fact completely unconnected with Jamie’s murder.”

“Exactly.”

Mallory put the Jeep in gear and headed toward the end of the Browers’ circular driveway. “Well, it’s a new fact for us, at any rate. Lucky you could get chummy with Emily about the trials of sisterhood.”

“I never had a sister,” Isabel said.

After a beat, Mallory said, “Ah. You used what you picked up psychically from Emily to encourage her to talk. The cartoon numbers she drew in school. Being lousy at math when her sister was so good at it. You used the knowledge to be sympathetic, be on her side so she’d feel comfortable talking to you. So that’s how your abilities can be used as investigative tools.”

“That’s how,” Isabel said. “An edge that sometimes makes all the difference. But something else I learned in there is that Emily was all but invisible in that family. Which is why she knew about Jamie’s secret life. Why she saw more than anyone else realized. And why there’s a good chance she saw something that could get her killed.”

“What?”

“Her sister’s murderer.”

3:30 PM

Isabel closed the folder and looked at Rafe with a sigh. “Just like I remembered. As far as we could determine both times, the twelve women killed before he came to Hastings were all straight. No secret sexual closet, with or without whips and chains. And the second and third victims here, Allison Carroll and Tricia Kane, were straight as well, according to the information you got. Right?”

“Right.”

“Still, I’m going to ask Quantico to reopen those old files, maybe send an agent to the towns in Florida and Alabama to double-check, particularly the lives of the primary victims just before they were killed. With Jamie’s secret life staring us in the face, we have to be sure whether or not it has anything to do with what triggers his killing rage.”

“Makes sense to me. Could be, he got the kind of rejection he couldn’t take. Rejection as a man, for being a man.”

“That is entirely possible.”

Rafe looked down at the three small in-living-color photographs of Jamie Brower in full dominatrix gear: a silver-studded, black leather bustier, fishnet stockings held up by garters, stiletto heels-and a whip. In each shot, there was another woman, crawling, fawning, or in some clearly submissive pose, just as Emily had said.

And while Jamie’s face was unmasked and highly visible, her companion was completely unidentifiable due to a black leather hood and mask.

He lined up the photos on the table and studied them intently. “I’d say this is the same woman in all three shots.”

Isabel nodded. “And I’d guess all three shots were taken on the same day. Same… session. Though all the details of costume and… um… accessories being exactly the same could be part of their whole ritual, so we can’t assume too much.”

“Can I assume the second woman is nobody I know personally? Please?”

Isabel smiled wryly. “It is unsettling, isn’t it? Other people’s secrets.”

“This sort of secret, at least. I guess you never really know about people.”

“No. You don’t.” There was something oddly flat about Isabel’s response, but she went on before Rafe could question it. And her voice was easy once again. “That outfit the other woman is wearing shows a lot of skin, but considering how tight and rigid it is, it’s also doing a dandy job of disguising her true body shape. So are her positions; we can’t even realistically estimate how tall she is. Her face is never turned to the camera, so not even her eyes are visible. And her hair’s caught up under that hood.”

Rafe cleared his throat. “And since she’s shaved…”

Isabel didn’t seem at all embarrassed or disturbed, and nodded matter-of-factly. “Not uncommon in S amp;M scenarios, according to the list Quantico sent us, but pubic hair would at least have given us a hair color, and probably natural. I didn’t see a birthmark, tattoo, even a blemish that might help us I.D. her.”

She paused, then added, “Several things interest me about this little twist. We don’t know if any or all of Jamie’s playmates lived here in Hastings, though my guess is that more than one isn’t very likely.”

“A few weeks ago,” Rafe said, “I would have said investigating a serial killer in Hastings would be the next thing to impossible. A few S amp;M games seem fairly tame by comparison. Hell, almost innocent.”

“Yeah, but not innocent to Jamie. If she was so afraid of discovery, it could well have been because her partner-at least the most recent one-lives here and maybe isn’t as good at keeping secrets as Jamie was. That might explain what Emily saw as Jamie’s increasing worry and fear. Another thing is that we don’t know where these photographs were taken, and though Emily claims she borrowed these three from a photo box full of them, your people found no sign of the box at Jamie’s apartment when they did an intensive search.”

“I’m surprised Emily found it,” Rafe said. “This is not the sort of thing you’d leave lying around, I’m thinking.”

“Oh, you can bet Emily snooped. She said she caught a glimpse of the corner of the box under her sister’s bed and was curious, but she had to be looking for secrets. She knew her sister was afraid of something, and she wanted to know what that was. It was the first chink she’d seen in Jamie’s armor.”

“Why take these?” Rafe wondered.

“Proof. Even if she never planned to show them to anyone-including Jamie-she had something that proved to her that Jamie wasn’t as perfect as her family believed she was. That was probably enough for Emily; she doesn’t strike me as a blackmailer or the vindictive type.”

“Yeah,” Rafe said, “I’d agree with you there.”

Isabel shrugged. “I’m also willing to bet that she left the box just enough out of place to make Jamie uneasy about it. If it really was filled with photos, then she couldn’t be sure any were missing. But she had to wonder if her sister found the box. That’s probably why we haven’t found it.”

“Because she hid it somewhere safer.”

“I would have. The question is, where? Your people checked her office thoroughly, but I wouldn’t have expected to find something like those photographs there anyway. Did she have a safe-deposit box?”

“Yeah, but the only items in it were legal documents. Insurance policies, deeds to some property she owned, stuff like that. I’ve got some people putting together a list of the properties, what they are, where they are, but nothing else in the box provided anything in the way of a lead.”

Mallory came into the room in time to hear that, and said, “Jamie’s lockbox? I just double-checked, and that’s the only one she had. No other bank has her on their customer list.”

“At least not under her real name,” Rafe said.