Kat hadn’t felt so good in years, perhaps never in her life. She was sad about her fight with Jackie, but as she strode down State Street, she felt that her worries were all being left behind. Jackie’ll come around, she reassured herself, once Carter sets her up. I guess she has a reason to be mad, but that can’t last. Friendships have their ups and downs—no big deal.

“Excuse me?” Kat stopped and turned, surprised to see a tall, broadly built man dressed like a clown, a grim hobo’s frown painted over his face. Before she could respond, he went on, “Thought I’d audition fer yer company. I’m a clown.”

She looked him over, a vaguely familiar air about him which she couldn’t quite place. “Oh, um, I’m not in that business anymore, actually. Good luck to you though.”

“You think you could give me a referral?”

“A—?” She took a closer look—something about the man’s painted face registering in her memory. “Do I know you?”

“Not really,” he said, a smile distorting his painted frown. “But yer gonna.” His arm shot out in a flash, the black device in his hand sputtering a metallic clicking sound. Electric pain shot through Kat’s body; she wasn’t even sure he’d touched her. But it also didn’t matter, and that was the last thing she realized before he scooped her up in a cradle-carry, holding her terribly close to his chest and whispering, “I got you now.”

* * *

Kat woke startled, looking around with foggy vision, a dull hum in her ears. Her head was throbbing, the muscles aching all over her body. She tried to move but couldn’t, and that sudden inability threw bolts of panic through her body and mind, heart jumping to a faster pace. Her arms were behind her back, handcuffed, the metal already digging into her arms. She looked around to see herself in a small chair, a position she’d been in before, her ankles securely bound to one another. But this time they were cuffed, cold and mean—the little chain rattle between the two metal shackles.

Her limbs instinctively tested the cuffs and they held tight. Not only were her ankles and wrists cuffed to one another, they were cuffed to the chair by a second set, metal clacking and clinking as she tried to get away.

Her mouth was filled with some clump of material—a washrag or a tube sock, and it was held in place by a tight cleave-gag that pushed in between her teeth.

She looked around, everything about her situation both familiar and surprising. Is it Carter, she wondered, is he behind this? Is this another game, another thrill?

But that thought was driven away by the more confusing familiarity of the cabin around her, Lake Melody lapping easily outside the back porch. Is that Lake Melody? Is this…is this Mitchell’s big red cabin?

Just one more glance around the cabin confirmed it—the furnishings she knew as well as her own, the kitchen where she and Mitchell had tried to have sex so many times.

Mitchell!

“Rise and shine,” the man’s voice said, snapping her head to the side to find its source. He sauntered into the room, freshly dressed in what seemed like Mitchell’s clothes. But this man wasn’t Mitchell. Instead of Mitchell’s short, black hair and clean-shaven face, this man was beefy and balding and had a mean sneer.

“How’s it goin’, baby doll?” Kat flinched and pulled, the cuffs biting into her skin as he approached her. “Save your strength, gorgeous.” Standing in front of her, he grabbed her chin and pulled her face up to look at him. “I want as much of it as I can get.”

She pulled her face away and he chuckled, stepping away toward the kitchen. She knew him from somewhere, but she couldn’t quite place it. She tried to review the few friends of Mitchell’s that she knew, but it occurred to her then that she didn’t know any of them as part of his double-life strategy.

What’s Mitchell got planned? What’s going on here?

The man came back, a fresh can of beer in his hands. She peered at him, trying to see through her headache and confusion.

“Y’still don’t get it, d’ya?” He shook his head and sat down on the arm of the sofa, close to the couch. “Hank Matthews, you dummy! You worked my nephew’s birthday party in Central Park—that homeless guy showed up?”

It flashed back to her: the man’s aggressive come-on, chatting with his friend behind the tree. Who was that? Could it have been…Mitchell? No, impossible! But…then what am I doing here in Mitchell’s cabin with this man?

“I saw you, kickin’ that guy’s ass, I gotta tell ya. But it busted my cock big-time when you shot me down; that wasn’t cool. It wasn’t cool. But y’know what? I was gonna let it go. Lot’s o’ fish in that sea, right?” He took a big, wet slurp of his Bud Light. “Then I get a call—changes my life.”

Kat knew he was getting to the crux of it, the connection between him and Mitchell. The only problem was that she didn’t want to know.

“But that’s neither here nor there,” he said, standing up and approaching her in that chair, beer can in his hand. “Main thing is, here you are and here I am.” He raised the beer can to her cheek and she flinched, pulling her face away. “Wassa matter,” he asked, lowering the can to trace the curves of her shoulder to her breasts, “don’t drink?”

He dragged the beer can over her breasts, her button-down blouse and bra the only thing protecting her dignity. She knew that wouldn’t last long.

He slurped down the beer and tossed it across the cabin, his hand harshly grabbing her breast. He leaned in and laughed into her face—breath stinking, face ugly and contorted, hand squeezing her hard and twisting with a graceless venom that couldn’t possibly have brought anybody pleasure.

She leaned hard to the other side but couldn’t get away from his menacing clutches, knowing that once his chuckling died down and his fascination with mauling her chest faded, he’d move on to more fascinating regions.

His hands were awkward as he stroked her thighs—a nasty and clumsy, nothing like the grace and power of Carter’s approach. She couldn’t help but think of Carter in that moment, the vast difference between her actual peril and the sumptuous delight of their role-play. The more frightened she was to be there, the greater a difference she could see between the two worlds. With Carter on that first date, she’d been Lena Flowers.

On this day she was Kathleen Le Fleur, and she was about to be raped and then murdered.