"No, not really. Everybody thinks I am, but they're wrong." He chuckled and hung her picture on a nail. "So were you. Poor little Josh needs special help." He made a scoffing noise in his throat and hunkered down beside her, fingering the fabric of her shirt, just to one side of her breast. She pulled back, but he just grinned again. "I could teach your class, Miss Marshall. I don't need your special help." He bent his mouth in a thoughtful frown. "But I did get some decorating ideas from you. I really like the way you covered that one wall in your apartment with all those pictures."

"You were in my apartment."

He looked bored. "Of course I was. How else could I have held a knife to your throat?"

"You stabbed my dog."

His face changed, rage twisting his features. "I should have killed your damn dog. Or should I say dogs. Little miss goody-two-shoes, defying the rules, hiding two dogs in her apartment."

She narrowed her eyes. "You didn't know I had two. That's why you only put out enough poison for one."

"I put out enough poison for two," he hissed, "wishing to kill one with a great deal of pain."

"But Jean-Luc didn't get as much as Jim. He got you. Where did he bite you?" she taunted, not knowing if it would get her killed faster, but not wanting him to think he'd won. If she lay here silent, he would kill her anyway.

His eyes flashed. "Shut up." She cried out when his hand came crashing across her cheek, pain spearing her head where it banged against the wood floor. "I like you better asleep."

No. Not again. She didn't want to lose consciousness again. I might not wake up. "So you'll make me inhale more of your ketamine?" she baited him, hoping to distract him. Anything.

He looked surprised, then philosophical. "Your boyfriend told you, huh?"

"I found the missing chemicals."

He stood up and walked toward the wall behind her, where she couldn't see him. "I know. I found your inventory last night. Stuffed it in my pocket. Didn't want anyone else to know."

"It's too late for that," she called, still not able to see him. "I told the police."

She heard his bored chuckle. "You told your boyfriend. That man is too stupid to tie his own shoes, much less find me. I had to draw him a damn map to find the girls. Right, Kelly?"

Jenna's body tightened. "Kelly?"

"Oh, yes," he said mildly, still behind her. "She's here, but I don't think she can talk right now."

"You killed her." Jenna felt a hysterical sob building, but shoved it back.

"I will, but I haven't. I'm not done with her yet. Besides, I think I'll have a little fun with you first, then let you watch me kill Kelly so you can see firsthand what will happen to you.'' He appeared over her, tall and grinning, a syringe in one hand. "Kind of like… foreshadowing. Yes, that's what Miss Ryan called it." He knelt beside her and laid the syringe to one side.

"Did you hurt Casey? Were you the one who cut my brakes?" she asked, trying to roll, to scoot, to get away, but he just held her down with one hand. Effortlessly.

"Don't be ridiculous. That's not my style at all. If I'd wanted to hurt you, you would have been hurt. My brother's friends cut your brakes, ineptly as usual."

"What's in the needle?" she asked, trying to make her voice cocky, but failing miserably. She heard her own fear and so did he.

With a confident grin he grabbed her arm and with a pair of scissors cut her sleeve at the shoulder, then ripped it from her shirt. "You already guessed it, Miss Marshall. It's Special K."

"Why? Why the drugs, Josh?"

He tied a rubber band around her arm and tested her vein with his thumb. "You know, I've given that considerable thought myself. I think I just got so damn tired of doctors pumping me full of shit that I decided to have a little payback."

Jenna struggled, wildly now, and he frowned in irritation. "Hold still. I don't want to hurt you. Not yet anyway."

"No."

He grunted and held her down with his knee. "Yes. I'm in charge, dammit, and I say yes." He grabbed the syringe and slid it into her vein. "Now, Miss Marshall, settle down and I'll tell you a story. You're going to sleep soon, but when you wake up"-he lifted his brows, his dark eyes sparkling- "you'll be in… a forest. Yes, that's good. A forest, surrounded by wolves. I like that. It's very… apropos given your love for such beasts. Large, vicious wolves with fangs. Snarling, drooling fangs. And one by one, they'll creep up to you and… tear your flesh from your bones. And it will hurt. A lot."

Jenna stared up at him, feeling her body grow numb. "What…?"

He sat down next to her, cross-legged, and carefully capped the syringe. "Ketamine has some pretty cool effects, Miss Marshall," he explained, now sounding incredibly like a teenager. "When you're going under you're suggestible and when you come out, you'll dream." He smiled. Satisfied.

"You'll dream whatever I tell you to dream. Because I'm in charge here."

Jenna struggled, but only in her mind now. Her body was frozen. "Sweet dreams, Miss Marshall," she heard him say. Then nothing.

Friday, October 14, 1:00 P.M.

The darkroom was in the small closet of an unused bedroom and what Steven found there chilled his blood. Pictures, hundreds of pictures in stacks, hanging from drying lines. He plucked one off the line and his heart plunged.

It was he and Jenna. Together. Shots above the waist, but they showed… He swallowed, remembering the night very well. He'd practically torn the sweater from her body in their passion and she'd wrapped herself around him, her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, pressing her warm breasts into his chest. But he didn't have to rely on his memory. Josh Lutz had captured everything in full color.

"Steven." Sandra was behind him and she carefully took the pictures and placed them in a folder. "We'll take them as evidence, but I'll make sure no one sees them," she said softly.

Straightening, Steven rested his hands on his hips and blew out a sigh. "Thanks. I'm kind of glad he's not here right now," he said grimly. "I might kill him myself."

Sandra squeezed his arm and turned away to continue the search.

Steven picked up another stack and felt adrenaline kick even as his stomach turned over. "Sandra, look. He's taken pictures of the girls' bodies, but inside somewhere. It looks like a barn." He flipped through the photos quickly. "Here's one showing a table saw."

"The sawdust in Kelly's bedroom."

"Yeah. And circular saw patterns the ME found on Alev's arms and legs." Steven flipped through some more photos. "Here's one with a window in view. The sun's coming up."

"Or going down," Sandra said, her own voice tight with tension. "It faces a road. You can see a little bit of it through the trees here. Let me get this to the lab. Maybe they can get more detail."

"The negatives will be here somewhere," Steven said, putting aside a stack of pictures, only to have the stack slide sideways. "Dammit," he gritted, moving to straighten the stack. Then a single print jumped out at him and he froze. "Oh, God. Sandra," he whispered and heard her indrawn breath as she looked over his shoulder. "It's Nicky. With Jenna in the park."

"I'll get a cruiser over to your house right away."

Steven put the picture in Sandra's steady hands, wishing his were. "Thanks."

"Nicky's fine. He's with your aunt and we would have heard if there was any trouble."

He nodded. Tried to breathe. "You're right. I know you're right." Still he remembered how it felt to know his baby had been stolen. It couldn't happen again. He wouldn't let it.

"Go get some water, Steven," Sandra commanded. "You can't keel over on us now."