Camille froze, then slunk back to her chair, shooting a glance at Serena as she muttered, "I felt sick."

"Well, stay put. It'll be time to move in just a minute." Gwendolyn lifted the gun and Serena tensed. But the woman simply opened the cylinder on the revolver and inserted a bullet. She left the other chambers empty.

"What kind of gun is that?" Serena asked, although she figured she probably knew.

The woman lifted a brow. "You care what kind of gun this is?"

"Satisfy my curiosity, will you?" she snapped. Terror and anger were battling it out inside of her.

"Hmm. Why don't I just answer the question you're dying to know?" Her eyes narrowed and took on a dangerous glint.

Fear spiked in Serena-the fear that had never left her since waking up in this room with a killer.

Gwendolyn shot her a satisfied smile. "Yes, it's the same gun that killed Leslie and Kelly. And Patricia and Briann. And Kelsey and-"

"Wait. Stop. Who are Kelly and Briann?" Serena tugged at the handcuff once more. To no avail. Her stomach heaved and she swallowed hard. Keep her talking.

"Oh, that's right. You never found them. And you won't."

"Why not?"

She shrugged. "Because those are the rules." A wicked grin crossed her face. "Now let me tell you about the other rules."

Gwendolyn stepped forward and placed the gun into a clip on the steel rod that was attached to Serena's end of the table. "Rule number one. Don't try to get the gun out. You won't be able to. If you try to get the gun out, I will immediately shoot you with this one." The woman pulled another gun from the waistband of her shorts. It was a twin to the other. "These are the best guns ever. Daddy taught me to shoot when I was just a little girl. I'm a crack shot." She looked at Camille, who cowered and buried her face in her hands. "In other words, I don't miss."

Serena flashed to her father teaching her to do the same.

Gwendolyn turned the gun over and studied it. "It's a .32 caliber IOF Revolver MK1. Lightweight, but deadly."

Camille started to shake, her eyes lifting from her hands and flicking from Gwendolyn to the door, to the blind-covered window, then back to Serena.

"Now," Gwendolyn grabbed a deck of cards and dealt a few, "what's your game? Texas hold 'em? Twenty-one?"

"What are you talking about?"

As though Serena hadn't spoken, Gwendolyn went on, "I like the roulette table myself." She walked over to the other end of the table near Camille and pulled the cover from a roulette wheel. With a professional flick of her hand, she gave the wheel a spin.

Clicking filled the room as the little ball went round and round. "Pick a number, Serena. And a color. Red or black?"

"What?"

"A number! A color! Are you stupid?"

"Um . . . four. Black." What was going on? What was she doing?

The clicking continued.

"When it falls on a number, if it's not the number and color you picked, then you lose."

Click. Click. Click. The little ball fell into one of the slots. Gwendolyn watched it jump, then land in another.

"Seven red." She looked up and smirked. "You lose." She waved the other gun and pointed it at Camille. The girl shrieked and ducked her head.

"No! Don't!" Serena pleaded.

Gwendolyn laughed and lowered the gun. "I'm just kidding. I'm not going to shoot her."

"You're not?" Serena didn't allow herself to feel relief; she knew the woman was up to something.

Gwendolyn stood next to Serena and reached over to make sure the gun attached to the steel rod was aimed at the girl at the end of the table.

Slowly, it dawned on Serena what Gwendolyn had in mind. The woman confirmed it when she said, "You are."

Dominic shoved the files aside and stood. Terror had his adrenaline flowing. They weren't going to find her in time. "How long did the other victims live before she killed them?"

"A couple of days."

He looked at his watch. "It's been three hours. What if Gwendolyn doesn't follow her MO? After all, she changed it from the original killings."

Colton leaned forward. The task force was gathered around the table, each studying various aspects of the case. Detectives questioned the girls from the home. A BOLO had been issued for Paul's Jeep Cherokee. Newscasts ran missing persons reports for Camille and Serena.

For the next six hours, they worked and searched, following up leads that led straight to one dead end after another.

Dominic rubbed his eyes, swigged another sip of his now cold coffee, and grimaced.

He reached for the file containing the pictures of the missing girls again. The file that had grown exponentially with added information about each girl.

"Each one had a best friend," he whispered.

Colton looked up. "What?"

"Best friend. Each dead girl had a best friend. They disappeared within hours of each other."

"But Camille's not Serena's best friend," Hunter pointed out.

"No." Dominic stood to pace, his thoughts racing. "No, she's not, but she's someone Serena cares about. And she was there. She was probably also a convenience thing, but . . ." He thought about what he just said. "She's someone Serena cares about."

"You said that already."

Dominic looked at Colton. "So who did Gwendolyn care about as a child?"

Hunter leaned forward, his eyes taking on a brighter hue. "Her father."

"No, it has to be someone else. Female. Who was her best friend, besides her father?"

Colton looked at Hunter, then back at Dominic. "I don't know, but I see what you're getting at. We need to find out. Who can we ask?"

"Nathan Lindell."

Hours had pa.s.sed and Serena's stomach rumbled even as she knew if she tried to eat anything, she'd throw up. Gwendolyn had dropped her bomb about Serena being the one to shoot Camille, looked at her watch, and then said, "I'll explain more of the rules when I get back. Gotta run." Then she'd laughed and unclipped the gun, saying, "I guess I'd better take this with me. I'd hate for you to have a tragic accident."

Then she'd left.

Hours ago.

Serena wondered if she was at work. When she thought about it, Gwendolyn hadn't missed a shift since she started working at the hospital.

She thought of the many times Gwendolyn could have s.n.a.t.c.hed her from work. The times Serena had worked late, the only one in the lab, and Gwendolyn had been there cleaning.

And yet, she'd waited until now. Why?

She knew Gwendolyn wanted the package from Jillian. But still . . . if Gwendolyn was going to kidnap her over the package, she could have done it long before now.

She scanned the area one more time, looking for something, anything, that could be used to pick the handcuff lock. She searched as though she hadn't looked for the last few hours.

Of course there was nothing there.

She yanked at the cuff attached to the chain.

The door rattled and Serena tensed.

Camille jerked from her light doze, whimpered, and shuddered. Her eyes met Serena's.

Gwendolyn stepped through the door still dressed in her work uniform, fingers clutching two brown paper bags. The padding around her middle and hips reshaped her into the Dorie/Gwendolyn that Serena knew. "Well, h.e.l.lo there. And how are my friends today?"

Serena had lost track of time. She didn't know if it was light or dark outside. But if Gwendolyn had been at work and she worked third shift, it was probably around 7:30 in the morning.

"Hmm . . . nothing to say?"

"Camille needs a bathroom and something to eat. She's pregnant." Serena wouldn't mind a bathroom break herself.

The woman flinched. "What?" She looked at Camille. "You didn't tell me you were pregnant."

Would that make a difference somehow? Or had she just made matters worse?

Camille's eyes darted between her captor and Serena. "It didn't come up."

"Well, you're lucky I ran through a drive-thru." She held up the bags, then smirked at Serena. "It's not your usual froufrou fare, but if you're hungry, you'll eat it."

She tossed a bag in Serena's direction. Serena caught it, the smell of the burger causing her stomach to rumble once again. She simply held the bag as she watched Gwendolyn uncuff Camille.

Gwendolyn gave Camille a little shove. "No funny stuff. You try anything and I put a bullet in your friend-and I'd really hate to do that this early."

Shuffling, keeping her head down, Camille disappeared behind Serena into the small bathroom.

Soon, Serena heard the toilet flush and Camille reappeared. The girl's gaze shot to the door and Gwendolyn lifted the gun. "Please don't."

Tears tracked down the teen's cheeks as she walked back to the chair and allowed Gwendolyn to reattach the cuff to her ankle without protest.

Gwendolyn looked at Serena. "Your turn."

Free of the cuff, Serena paid her visit to the restroom. And looked for anything that would be useful as a handcuff pick.

Gwendolyn banged on the door. "Hurry up!" Serena flinched and moved faster. As silently as possible, she lifted the lid of the water tank and worked quickly.

Just as she slid the tank lid back on and turned around, the door slammed open. "Did you fall in? What's taking you so long? I'm ready to start the game."

Serena didn't bother to answer, she just walked back to the chair at the table and let the woman cuff her ankle.

"Now," Gwendolyn said as she reattached the gun to the steel bar. "Pick a number and a color."

"What are the rules of the game?" Serena asked.

Gwendolyn circled the table. "You pick a number and color. I spin the wheel. If you're right, one of you lives. If you're wrong, one of you dies." She giggled, her delight in the game clear.

Serena felt terror choke her again as she looked at Gwendolyn's hand poised above the wheel. Not good odds. "I thought you wanted the package."

The woman paused and frowned. c.o.c.king her head, she laughed. A sound that grated across Serena's already snapping nerves.

Gwendolyn tapped her chin with the barrel of the gun. "I almost forgot. I was so excited to begin the game I forgot all about it. Yes, I need the package. So where is it?"

"At my house."

Gwendolyn lifted the gun and pointed it casually at Camille. "Where?"

"In a place you'll never find it."

"Don't try to get the upper hand!" she screamed, her demeanor changing in a blink. "You won't win! I always win! Now tell me where it is or I kill her."

Serena's heart thudded as she kept her face neutral. Was she gambling with Camille's life? "If you kill her, you can be sure that I will die right along with her and you'll never have the package. You said you have friends in high places. I'm guessing they're the ones who want the package."

Gwendolyn didn't deny it. In fact, she seemed stunned at Serena's gall to try and bargain with her.

Encouraged, Serena said, "Let her go and I'll take you to get the package."

"Let her go, huh?"

"Yes."

"And you'd die to protect that package?"

Serena met Camille's fearful gaze. "I'd die to protect my friend."

The door slammed open and Serena jumped as Gwendolyn spun to face the newcomer. Her jaw dropped and she said, "Nate?"