Mailed. Don’t know who took the photos.

Do you know which Shane Pryce? There are a lot of people with that name.

Don’t know his full name, but the two middle initials are L. A.

Shane stared at the texts. Whoever had sent them to Ginger was unidentifiable. Probably a burner phone, the report had read.

It had been four days since Ginger kicked him out of her apartment, and the number of questions swirling around in his head was staggering. He didn’t understand what had been meant by “made” the photos. That was an odd way of putting it, and just added to the mystery of why she was so worried about them, and why she’d reacted the way she had three nights ago.

The hollow in his heart grew worse. An attempt at meditation—he’d remembered it was Iain’s favorite way to relax and re-center himself—hadn’t helped. Instead, it had only accentuated how empty he was inside.

If he could just reach that sanctuary… He closed his eyes. He knew it was out there somewhere, but his memory still had too many holes. He threw a book at the wall. “Damn it!”

He found his keys in the bottom drawer in his office. The housekeeper had kept his place immaculate, always dusting and vacuuming, wiping things down and putting them away. He’d looked through the photos in the albums, wondering if they contained clues. None of them were bad enough to cause that kind of reaction from Ginger.

There was one place he hadn’t looked yet. Given the rather pricey lock on the door, maybe that was where he’d stored expensive cameras and other equipment. Still, he should check.

The lock clicked, and the door opened silently. Thick curtains were drawn tightly across the windows, and the room was pitch black. He flipped the switch on.

Lights illuminated photos. Lots and lots of them that had been carefully processed and hung. Most were frameless, mounted on stiff canvas, letting the pictures stand on their own.

He traveled slowly along the walls, studying the pictures. Had he taken them all? Was she upset about one of the ones in the room?

Most of them featured Ginger. Her in the sunlight. Her in the shadows. Her gorgeous, bare back. The close up of the smooth lines of her shoulders and collarbones. The black and white shot of her smiling face with only her lips in a vivid bright rose tone. There was one with Ginger lying on a bed of diamonds, her arms crossed over her bare torso.

Every one of them showed her in various moods and states of dress—or undress. He stared at them, like he was seeing Ginger for the first time ever. This was what she’d been to him—his light, the meaning of his life.

His breath rushed out, his knees weakening like pillars of wet sand. What the hell was he doing, trying to figure everything out before approaching her again? That wasn’t fixing the problem; it was avoiding the problem because he knew he’d had something to do with her breakdown the other night. Otherwise she wouldn’t have asked him to get out.

He grabbed his car keys. It was one o’clock in the morning, but he didn’t give a damn. He was going to see Ginger now.

Chapter Twenty

Shane pounded on Ginger’s door. He’d considered calling, but he didn’t want to give her time to get her defenses up. No more walls, he thought. He was going to talk to her and they were going to get everything sorted out that night.

Finally the door opened, and a petite Asian woman glared up at him. “What do you think you’re doing?” Her arms were crossed and her jaw jutted out, but the tough routine was ruined by her yellow Winnie the Pooh pajamas. “Do you know what time it is?”

“As a matter of fa—”

“That’s right, it’s after one. Ginger just fell asleep, so I say you get the hell out of here before I call the cops for harassment and public disturbance. And I’m sure they’ll think of some other charges to tack on if I ask nicely.”

He squinted. “Are you Debbie?”

“The one and only. And you’re Shane, the world’s biggest jackass. So nice to meet you and good-bye. Don’t ever darken Ginger’s doorstep again. I’m going to get her a Rottweiler as soon as the pet shops open tomorrow. An early Christmas present.” She bared her teeth.

“I don’t think pet shops sell Rottweilers.”

“For the right price they’ll get one.”

He sighed impatiently. “Look, I’m not here to fight with you.”

“Oh, but I am sooo here to fight with you. I don’t want you anywhere near Ginger.”

“Can we not talk in the hallway? The neighbors are going to hear everything.”

“When did you start caring so much about Ginger anyway?” But Debbie came out with keys jangling in her hand and locked the door. “Come on.”

She flip-flopped her way down the hall and past a heavy metal door that let out onto the emergency stairwell. After Shane had walked past her, she shut it and spun around to face him. The smooth steel platform was just big enough for two people.

“Now nobody’ll hear us,” she said, her voice echoing slightly.

“You know about the pictures, don’t you?” He didn’t wait for a response. “What are they?”

“Oh, that’s funny coming from you. Are you saying you have no idea?”

Shane was starting to get tired of the woman’s sarcasm. “Would I be here if I did?”

Debbie laughed nastily. “I honestly can’t say. You haven’t done anything to prove that you’re a sane individual. The only reason I’m standing here with you alone is because I’ve studied Shaolin wushu since I was eight.” She looked at him cockily. “I’m the stereotypical bad-ass Asian chick, so don’t try anything, buddy.”

“Just tell me!” Shane bit out between clenched teeth.

She crossed her arms. “Last May some photos were mailed to you from Ohio. They were somewhat incriminating, and they featured Ginger. Of course she didn’t actually do any of those things. But whoever photoshopped them is really good because Ginger said they looked totally legit.

“So okay, they explain why you disappeared and cut all communication with her. I guess you were so pissed off and felt betrayed that you felt like you couldn’t talk to her. I get that, I really do. Given, you know, how fucked up your family is and all.” The woman stepped forward and put a finger in his chest, jabbing him for emphasis. “But Ginger should’ve been given a chance to explain herself before you just cut her out like that. Seriously, how many years had you guys been dating? You should’ve known she would never do anything to hurt you.”

Shane stared at Debbie. Her words were like blows to his gut, but he’d had no idea. He still couldn’t remember anything about the pictures she was talking about. “Is that why she’s been avoiding me? She found out about the photos?”

“No, it’s much worse. I’ll tell you the whole story since you’re supposedly all amnesiac and everything.” The cynical twist of her lips said she didn’t believe that. “She tried to figure out who would do such a hateful thing to the two of you. When she couldn’t trace it herself, she hired a pro. And he discovered that the person who mailed the photos to you was…”

Source confirmed. Shane Pryce. “Me,” he whispered.

“Ding ding ding!” She stepped back and spread her arms wide. “You get the grand prize for being the biggest jerk in the world!”

“It wasn’t me!”

“Oh, but how can you be so sure? You can’t remember, can you?”

Bitterness surged inside him. “Okay, fine, I don’t remember. But what motive would I have for doing something like that? It doesn’t make any sense!”

“Why do assholes do assholey things? Because they’re assholes.” Debbie put her hands on her hips. “I’m warning you, Shane. Stay away from Ginger. You’ve already done enough.”

“Debbie, you have to believe me. I had nothing to do with the photos—”