"You fucking piece of shit!" She launched herself at him, kicking and thumping, reaching for his eyes, finding a greater strength in anger than she had in terror.

Jack pulled her back against his chest. He pinned her arms at her sides but Kate continued to struggle, her heels hitting the car more than him. He held her until she stopped, then dropped her.

Kate was too exhausted to resist when he sank his fingers into the side of her jaw, pinched her nose and dropped in a pill. He kept her mouth open and tipped in water.

Locked in the back of the car, Kate curled up with her face pressed into the angle at the bottom of the seat. She'd tried to make her world safe and failed. Had he watched her for the last four years? Enjoyed raping her so much he had to do it again? He'd killed a man because of her, held her hand on the knife. Kate pressed herself deeper into the seat, trying to burrow into a rabbit hole that wasn't there.

Chapter Six.

Nathan took a deep breath before he rang the bell at his sister's house. Elisa, thirty-seven weeks pregnant with her first child, flung open the door and scowled.

He stuck a smile on his face. "You look beautiful."

"You're late."

"Sorry. Working," Nathan lied. "Sunday seems to be the most popular day to commit adultery."

"Why I never let Bob out on the weekend."

Nathan handed a bottle of wine to his brother-in-law.

"She's invited another desperate woman, you lucky guy," Bob said.

Nathan gave a grim smile. He was used to his sister trying to pair him off. He rarely came for dinner without her having invited an available friend. Women thought private detectives were sexy and mysterious. TV and the movies made the job look glamorous and exciting when it was mostly tedious and often sordid.

He'd taken out a couple of Elisa's friends, but nothing went further than one date.

The older the women, the more desperate they seemed. Two dates and they wanted engagement rings. Nathan didn't have a problem with commitment-only with trust. How could he trust anyone, when those he trusted the most had let him down? First his mother, then Alison.

He followed his sister into the kitchen and kissed her. "Love you."

"Love you back." Elisa took his hand and placed it on her stomach. "Feel that kick? This child's a football player."

"Serves you right for all the kicks you landed on me."

"Mom and Dad are coming for Thanksgiving, Nathan. I'm expecting you, too."

"Okay," he said.

"Much too quick. I know it's hard, but please?" She put on her best puppy-dog look.

Nathan had been three years old when his mother walked out, and a year later his father, Will, had met and married Inez Ayala. Then along came Elisa and life was never the same again. Inez loved him, but Elisa had her heart and Nathan had always known it.

"I'll do your favorite dessert," Elisa said.

Nathan rolled his eyes.

"And I'll let you sit between me and Bob." They both knew she wouldn't get away with that.

Nathan had been in his teens when things started to go wrong. He'd wanted to know about his birth mother, someone he thought was dead. His father saw his persistent questions as an insult to the woman who raised him. Nathan hadn't meant it that way but the bad feelings it caused had never been dispelled. When he found out he'd been lied to, that his mother was alive and had two more sons, the shaky bridge between him and his father had broken completely.

But Nathan had no problem with Elisa. She adored her big brother, and he adored her. She'd always come to him for advice and affection. If it hadn't been for her, he'd have run away from home and never gone back.

The doorbell rang. "That will be Marie," Elisa said. "She's really sweet, works for a computer company and she's just broken up with a long-term boyfriend. Be nice."

Elisa waddled off and returned with Marie and a bouquet of flowers.

Nathan's mind was only half on the introductions and small talk. The flowers made him think about Jack. Jack didn't buy flowers. Didn't mean to say he hadn't bought them when Nathan wasn't watching, but it felt wrong. He wondered if he could make an excuse Elisa would believe and leave. Probably not.

"Nathan, are you listening?" Elisa asked.

"I always listen. You thump me if I don't."

"Marie was asking about your job."

Nathan turned to face her.

"It must be so exciting," Marie said.

"Yeah."

Nathan glanced at his sister. She knew how much he disliked what he did.

Elisa tried to convince him it wasn't the job that was sordid, just some of the people he dealt with, but to Nathan, it was all part of the same thing. She worried about his personal life too, because he wouldn't tell her why he and Alison had split up.

"Do you carry a gun?" Marie asked.

Outside Tucson, Jack drove into a violent storm. The swirling wind and torrential downpour made it impossible to distinguish where sky ended and land began. He pulled over for a while and watched Kate, curled up behind him in a drugged sleep. She was covered in blood and dirt. Jack had buried Charlie in a shallow grave, then washed with a bottle of water and changed his clothes. He looked okay but he could still smell Charlie's blood.

It was a couple more hours to Phoenix. Jack helped himself to a drink from the cooler, grabbed a bag of chips and waited for the worst of the weather to pass.

He reached the city limits at eight in the evening and pulled off the I-10. Jack selected a motel at random from the line of neon lights. Safe Haven. These dumps looked the same outside and would be identical inside: anonymous units with frayed carpets and cheap bedspreads. He drove the Suburban to the darkest side of the lot and switched off the engine. Kate opened her eyes as he pressed tape to her mouth but didn't resist when he fastened her hands behind her back with a cable tie. About fucking time. Jack locked the car, walked over to the office and paid in cash.

Back at the car, Kate lay exactly as he'd left her. He drove to the end of the line of units and once Jack felt certain there was no one around, he cut the tie around Kate's wrists and put a couple of new ones in his pocket. He carried her to the room and held her against him while he unlocked the door.

King-size bed, threadbare carpet dotted with cigarette burns and wall-mounted TV, secured by a thick chain-as if anyone would want that antique. The decor was mock Native American, a gory print of the Sun Dance dominating the wall behind the bed. The heater clattered but the room was warm.

Jack carried Kate into the bathroom. No window, no other door. When he put her down, she curled into a ball. He kicked her and sniggered. Using one of the ties, he fastened her wrists to the grab bar on the tub. Back in the main room, he turned on the TV and clicked up the volume in case she decided to scream.

When he got back with the bags, Jack bolted the door, blocked it with an armchair and closed the drapes. Kate had her face pressed against the side of the tub, duct tape still in place. She'd ignored a second opportunity to remove it. Her eyes remained closed. Jack put her broken glasses next to the wash basin, then ripped off the duct tape. Still no response, so he kissed her. She opened her eyes and he laughed.

"See, I'm your prince. I've woken Sleeping Beauty." Jack stripped, dropping his clothes on the floor. She hadn't spoken since he'd put her in the car that afternoon but if he wanted her to speak, she would. He turned on the shower and let the water cascade over him for several minutes before he unwrapped the bar of soap and began to wash. Jack ran his hands over his hard midsection and felt the ripple of muscle. He didn't smoke, drank only in moderation and was reasonably careful about what he ate. He despised the fat slugs who paraded themselves on TV talk shows, looking for sympathy because they couldn't stop stuffing their faces. There had been some obese monsters in Ashlands who blamed everyone but themselves for their size. He'd stuck pins in a few of them to see if they'd pop, been disappointed when they'd only squealed.

Kate looked almost as pale as the tub. Water splashed her face and hair as Jack washed. A soak and something to eat and she'd feel better. He'd order a pizza, a cheese one especially for her. Jack reached for a towel. He shaved and brushed his hair before cutting Kate loose.

"You look like shit. Get washed."

After he left the bathroom Kate exhaled. She pulled herself to her feet and staggered the two steps to the sink. When she caught sight of her face, she didn't register it was her-a wide-eyed stranger covered in scratches and smudges of blood, hair a tangled mess. She felt a surge of anger with her hair, hated it because he liked it, despised it because he'd used it to catch her, control her. Kate reached inside her wash bag and pulled out a pair of small scissors she used for her nails. Within a couple of minutes, she stood on a brown furry island in a flat orange sea.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Kate held the little scissors in front of her. One flick of his hand and they flew to the floor. She backed to the wall and pressed herself against the tiles. When he lifted his hand, she shied away. Jack twisted the short strands in his fingers and his mouth twitched.

"You want it short, I'll make it fucking short." He started the water running in the tub, emptied two bottles of gel into the flow and took out his knife to finish what she'd started.

Jack returned to the other room leaving Kate slumped against the wall. She wanted desperately to get in the tub but she'd be washing away evidence. Her mother said she should have told her what happened that night four years ago because they could have done something. But Kate knew her mother would have gone through a line of thought similar to hers and worried over what people would think. Only it wouldn't have been Kate she was concerned about but herself. So Kate was as sure as she could be that once her mother had appreciated the consequences of calling the police, she'd have run Kate a bath and told her to get in it.

No police were coming to save her. No point not washing. Kate struggled out of the blood-stained T-shirt. She ached. Every movement required deliberate thought and conscious effort. Her fingers touched the cut in her side where he'd stabbed her. It still oozed blood. She unzipped her skirt. Not all the blood was hers. Kate had to stop thinking about Charlie, otherwise the last bit of control would slip from her grasp.

The water hurt her feet when she stepped in. Kate tried not to cry as she eased herself down. All her efforts to convince herself she'd done the right thing in keeping quiet four years ago seemed pathetic now. She'd switched schools, changed her name from Olivia to Kate and lost her freedom because her parents insisted on driving her everywhere. She'd thought she could make herself believe there'd been no rape. Papering over the crack. She hadn't expected it to happen again. Was it really Jack who'd raped her?

Kate wanted to be clean, lying on her bed, eating M&Ms and reading scary-but-oh-so-safe Stephen King. She clutched her knees to her chest, rested her head against the tiles and thought back four years, searching for something to confirm it was Jack. She'd not seen the face of her attacker. Kate had done what he asked because she'd been afraid he'd kill her. He'd told her to kiss him and she had. She asked him not to tell anyone because she thought it might stop him killing her, might make him believe she wouldn't tell either. She intended to, but on the way home, she'd changed her mind.

Jack would rape her again. She needed to face that. He'd rape her again, maybe when she got out of the tub. She couldn't risk asking anyone else for help.

Panic rose, filling her throat. He'd rape her again. Her heart pounded. She had to keep calm. Okay, she told herself. Think those few words more calmly. He will rape me again. There wasn't much she could do about it. She'd had four years to consider what she might have done. Fighting was almost pointless. Outsmarting Jack was the only option. She was clever. She could think of a way out. Pretend to like him so he'd drop his guard? He wouldn't believe her. Not yet.

Kate washed her hair. A stupid mistake to cut it. If the police had her description, they were looking for someone with long hair. She'd never had her hair as short as this. Kate lay back and rinsed out most of the shampoo, then stood and turned on the shower, had the water as hot as she could stand. She still felt dirty.

As she dried herself, Kate heard Jack speak and tensed thinking he was coming in but he was using the phone. The motel's bleached-out towels were thin and small, but Kate managed to wrap one around her body to cover her breasts, though it barely reached the top of her thighs. She couldn't put the skirt and Tshirt back on. She used them to sweep together the hair from the floor and stuffed the lot in the trash can.

Kate wiped away the mist on the mirror and water trickled down the glass. It looked like her reflection was crying. She brushed what was left of her hair, wincing when she caught the bumps on her head and then cleaned her cracked glasses. Kate felt as though she was doing everything slowly, pushing her way through thick air, hardly breathing. When she turned, Jack stood at the door in black boxers. He tossed her a man's shirt and turned away.

Little point staying in the bathroom. He'd drag her out. He'd removed the floral bedspread, slung it over a chair and lay on the bed watching TV.

"I've ordered pizza. Behave when it arrives." The screen flickered as he changed channels. "Come here."

Kate sat on the edge of the bed.

"Next to me."

She moved nearer. "Why should I believe it was you four years ago?" Kate hardly recognized her voice.

"Why would I lie?"

"Prove it."

"You don't remember my rock hard cock?" He sniggered. "You missed the bus.

I blindfolded you. Put my hand over your mouth. You never saw my face. You gave me a sweet kiss. Did you taste the beer, darlin'? It was a quick fuck. Guess I was a little over-excited. Like today. Don't worry, it'll get better." Kate put her hands over her face. Guesses.

"You came back for your violin."

She looked at him then. "You saw me go back?"

"I knew you wouldn't leave it."

Oh God, it was him. She'd been afraid her attacker would still be there but no one was around. The violin lay behind the bushes and you couldn't tell anything bad had happened. No crack in the earth, no sign stuck in the ground saying Stupid girl lost her virginity here'.

Kate handled it by denial. Already quiet, she became quieter and her parents didn't even notice. She rarely went out. She adopted a particular posture and pace of walking that made her look insignificant. She stayed on the edge of things, tried not to be first or last. But the sickness started within days and carried on for months. A visit to the doctor confirmed Kate was seven months pregnant. No one could believe she'd hidden it so long. Her parents had been distraught, but for themselves. She didn't want to think about that, how they treated her.

She jumped when the knock came at the door. Jack moved the chair and picked up the knife.

The moment the door opened, Kate jumped up and rushed forward. "I'm going to get a Coke from the machine."

The pizza guy was no older than she was. She saw Jack's fist clench on the knife he held behind the door. "No need, honey. I ordered some. Take the pizza." He pushed the box into her hand, paid and closed the door. Jack put the chair back in place and lifted the pizza from Kate.

"What did I tell you?" he snapped. "What did I say? Are you stupid?" Jack stepped right up to her. "Now you don't get to eat."

Chapter Seven.

Nathan sat at his desk and yawned. He'd not slept well. He'd left his sister's place without Marie, despite her hints. She'd made it clear sex with a PI was on her "must do" list, along with visiting Hawaii and learning to scuba dive. Nathan wasn't sure which ranked highest. She'd whispered that guys with guns in shoulder holsters turned her on. Part of him wanted to ask how far she'd go for someone who also carried a gun at his ankle. Instead he drove home alone.

The evening had focused on a discussion about revenge, whether it was right or wrong, whether violent revenge could ever be justified, and Marie turned out to be one of those religious nuts who wanted to forgive everybody. He asked her whether it was wrong to want revenge or only wrong if you took it. She thought both equally bad, forgiveness the only way. Un-fucking- believable. She wanted sex with a guy who carried a gun yet freaked at the idea of him using it. Not that he had since he'd been working for himself. Nathan just felt more secure knowing it was there.

Now he sat at his desk thinking about Alison when he didn't want to, wondering if she ever thought about him. He'd met her at a house-warming party of a mutual friend. After years of unsatisfying short-term relationships, Nathan was struck by a ridiculous, cliched love at first sight. He saw Alison across the room talking to some guy and she turned, looked at Nathan and never looked away. They talked all night. She was all he'd ever wanted: bright, kind, sexy, a friend as well as a lover. She'd been there for him after he'd been shot. Supported him when he moved into private investigation, helped him set up the business.

The night he'd asked her to marry him and she said yes was the happiest of his life.

The night he'd found her in bed with Jack, the worst.

When his phone rang, Nathan ignored it. When it didn't stop he lifted the receiver. He listened to a torrent of abuse for a few moments before he hung up.

A husband he'd watched for a wife. A husband having an affair with his neighbor.

Nathan put his head in his hands and wondered what he was doing. He wanted to walk away but if he didn't work, he couldn't pay his bills. He knew he was a mess but there was no one to talk to. He couldn't burden Elisa; she had enough to cope with. And the idea of talking to his father or his stepmother filled him with revulsion, as did the idea of talking to Jack, which was why Nathan had put it off for three months. He couldn't carry on like this.

Nathan decided to call Hammond Insurance where Jack worked. He'd meet him for a drink. One face-to-face meeting would do it, and Nathan would try not to punch the shit out of him. Maybe.