"She had some car troubles. She came by here to see if you had left yet. I filled her in on what's going on. She's pretty upset. She's waiting for you outside the gate."

I jumped up, and Peters rose too. "I think we should question Miss Lopiano first."

Gonzales's smile disappeared. He looked at me with a new intensity, then at Peters. "Got it. Do you think Miss Katz should come down to the station with us for more questioning?"

"No, I have all the information I need from her right now. Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Katz."

"I can't see Dena?"

"I'm sure she'll contact you after she's answered a few of our questions."

The look on Peters's face told me there would be no negotiating on that point. I nodded to Gonzales and turned to leave.

"One more thing, Miss Katz."

"Yes?"

"If you're planning on leaving the city, we'd appreciate a phone call."

I had no idea how I was able to keep it together enough to drive home. Every time I got stuck behind a slow car or a red light, I had to battle the overwhelming urge to leap out of the Mustang and run home as fast as I could. That's all I wanted now. To just be barricaded inside my flat with Mr. Katz and to never come out. I was forced to park four blocks from my place. Normally that would have been a minor irritant, but today the length of the walk was way outside my comfort zone. I peered at the sky through the windshield; it was now a cool shade of blue-gray. I stepped out of the car, took a deep breath of the rapidly cooling air and booked it to my apartment.

I was at the door to my building, keys ready, when I felt a hand reach out and grab my shoulder. Without hesitation, I spun around and punched the intruder square in the jaw.

Unfortunately, the intruder was Anatoly. "What the fuck did you do that for?"

"Well, why the fuck did you sneak up on me?"

"I didn't sneak up on you. I was walking by your place on the way to my own and I saw you and stopped to say hello. And then you punched me."

"Oh yeah? Well, well...actually that was probably out of line, huh?"

Anatoly didn't answer. He just stood there and massaged his jaw.

I pursed my lips to suppress a nervous giggle. Every instinct was telling me that this man would never hurt me. Unfortunately, it didn't appear that he could say the same about me. "You have time to come up? I could use a friend right about now."

"You just punched me."

"Oh, give me a break. You could stand up to terrorists in the Middle East but you don't think you can handle yourself against little old me?"

Once reminded of past exploits, Anatoly removed his hand from his chin, although he clearly wanted to continue to cradle it.

"Come upstairs and there might be some ice in it for you." I was amazed at how normal my voice sounded. As if my world wasn't on the brink of collapse.

Anatoly shook his head. "You are the craziest woman I have ever met." But he followed me up anyway.

When we got up to my apartment I made a point to lock the door behind us before retrieving the ice pack from the freezer.

"Are you going to tell me why you hit me?"

"You have no idea what kind of hell I've just been through. Actually, I'm kind of glad I hit you. It was like a stress reliever. I feel like I can think straight again."

"Great."

"Anatoly, I need some advice."

"Can I get the cold pack first?"

"What? Oh God, I'm sorry. Here you go." I gently placed the pack against the spot where I had hit him. "Is that okay?"

He slid his hand over mine. "Yeah, it's okay."

The image of Barbie's corpse bleeding all over the dirt temporarily blinded me. I needed to talk to Anatoly about what was going on. I needed someone else's opinion on what I should do, because I was completely out of ideas. But I also needed him to hold me. I desperately needed to lose myself, if only for a little while. I needed him to help push the images out of my head and force me to experience the moment and nothing else. I just needed him.

I pushed myself up on my tiptoes and, removing the ice pack, kissed the spot where I had decked him just minutes ago. "Better?"

"Much better."

My lips made the journey to his, and when his tongue began to toy with mine my fear was scorched by an even more intense desire.

He maneuvered his hands under my shirt and caressed my back. I felt my bra loosen and a little moan escaped me. He was backing me into the bedroom now; I could feel him pressed against me. I was pulling on his neck, trying to bring him closer, although by that point it was a physical impossibility. His teeth were grazing my neck. I don't think I have ever been so desperate for someone in all my life. I wanted to touch every part of him, I wanted him to devour me. I wanted him to fill me. We were in the doorway of the bedroom now. His breath tickled my ear.

"I read your book."

"You what?"

"Mmm, there are some things in it I'd like to try."

My heart stopped beating. Dena's warnings were blaring in my head. Anatoly was still touching me but I couldn't feel him. All I could feel was terror. I pushed myself away from him. "Get out."

"What?"

"I'm not kidding. Get out now or I swear I'll scream."

"What the...?"

I squeezed past him, ran into the kitchen and lunged for the butcher knife. "I want you out of here now."

"Sophie, I don't-"

"NOW!"

He rushed me. He grabbed my arm and slammed it against the refrigerator. The knife fell to the ground. He held my wrists above my head, his face hovering above mine, and it quickly became clear that I no longer had any control over the situation. "I don't care if you are a psychotic bitch, you are never to pull a knife on me again, got it?"

I opened my mouth to scream but no sound came out. Anatoly released my arms and gave me a final shove against the cold door before turning around and leaving.

I spent the next hour crouched on the floor staring at the door, the knife in one hand and the phone in the other. When it rang, I pressed the talk button and lifted it to my ear without uttering a greeting.

"Sophie? Sophie, is that you?"

I exhaled for the first time in what felt like a century. "Dena. Are you all right?"

"Mentally or physically?"

"I am so sorry about Barbie," I said.

"What the hell is going on, Sophie? What's happening?"

"I don't know." I looked down at the knife. "I just don't know."

"Sophie, I'm really freaking out here. Can you come over?"

"Anatoly just left."

Dena was quiet for a moment. "He just happened to show up?"

"Something like that. You might have been right about him."

"How far away did you park?"

"Four blocks."

"Okay, here's what we'll do. I'll go over there. Watch from your window. When you see me double-park, come on down, quickly."

"Got it. Oh, and...Dena?"

"Yeah?"

"Bring your Mace."

"I'm holding it right now."

Forty minutes later Dena showed up with Mary Ann in tow. I had been waiting in the lobby, so I was able to jump into the car before Dena even pulled to a complete stop. Mary Ann leaned back and squeezed my hand. I managed a meager smile.

"I didn't expect to see you here."

"I figured there's safety in numbers," Dena said.

"I'm not really comfortable about leaving Mr. Katz."

"Mr. Katz? Are you kidding me?" Dena made eye contact through the rearview mirror. "My employee was just killed with a hatchet and you're worried about your cat getting lonely?"

"I'm sorry, of course you're right. It's just...it's just I'm a little confused about what to feel or think. It's like I'm living in this horrible nightmare that I can't wake up from. I'm pretty sure that someone is trying to kill me and nobody seems to be able or willing to help me."

"We're going to help you." The definitiveness in Mary Ann's voice startled me.

Dena looked at Mary Ann and then back at the road. "Yeah, we are. We are going to find the asshole who's doing this, we'll get the proof we need, and we're going to get his ass locked up. Enough is enough. I've lost an acquaintance, I'm not going to lose a friend."

"And how exactly do you propose we do all that?" I rested the full weight of my head against the window. "The police don't believe me. They think I'm a suspect, for God's sake. If this is the guy who killed Tolsky and JJ Money, then he's gotten away with the murders of two people who are a hell of a lot more resourceful than me. So how are we supposed to stop him now?"

"Simple," Dena answered. "We beat him at his own game, or more accurately stated, we're going to beat him at your game."

"I don't get it," I said.

Mary Ann looked relieved.

"Sophie, he's acting out a part," Dena explained. "He's following the script to a tee, and you wrote the script. Now all you have to do is play the part of Alicia Bright."

"Alicia Bright never dies," Mary Ann said slowly.

"Right. And she always gets her man," Dena said. "And Sophie is a lot more qualified to play the part of her own heroine than this psycho is to play the part of her villain."

"But this isn't a work of fiction, Dena. This is real life. My life."

"This is life imitating art, and you're the artist. So, Miss Bright, it's time to go back to my pad, put our heads together and solve this mystery."

I rolled my eyes. "Go team."

"I think Dena's right," Mary Ann said. "We can figure this out. After all, we're three intelligent women, right?"

Neither Dena nor I commented.

By the time we arrived at her apartment in Noe Valley I had begun to buy into Dena's reasoning. As long as he chose to commit the crimes in my novels, there was not a single thing that he could do that I couldn't predict. I could do this. I could solve this. I didn't have to be the victim, I could be the hero for a change. I pulled off my jacket and started clearing some space on Dena's dining room table.

"Okay, Dena, you get all three of my novels out. Even though he's only been working from Sex, Drugs and Murder, we should be prepared in the event that he chooses to branch out. Mary Ann, you act as secretary and write down everything that's happened up to now and compile a list of suspects."

Dena gave me a high five. "Raise the roof. Alicia Bright is in the house."

CHAPTER 12.

"If you want to turn your life around you're going to have to start making things happen and stop allowing things to happen to you."

-Sex, Drugs and Murder At a quarter to midnight Dena, Mary Ann and I were all reviewing each other's notes. We had each taken one of my books and had recorded every crime that I had ever written. The only violent crime in Sex, Drugs and Murder that our killer had yet to reenact was the beating with the golf clubs, but in the other books people had been lynched, burned, drugged and decapitated, just to name a few. It kind of gave me the creeps, which was rather sad, considering I'm the one who wrote it.

"I should have written romance novels instead."

"Erotica would have been good." Dena tossed the book she had been reviewing in the middle of the table. "I wouldn't mind reenacting some of that."

"You're such a pervert," Mary Ann said.

I raised my hands for a truce. "We're sticking to the subject at hand. Let's do suspects again. Who knew when and where we were supposed to meet?"