“I’m surprised you came.” He said this casually, as if they were having lunch. “And I’m not exactly sure why you came, to be honest, especially after this one—” he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder “—has been trying to steal your man.”

Her eyes followed his gesture. There were two stainless-steel prep tables bolted to the floor in a T shape. Rainy’s hands were handcuffed around the leg at the top left of the T while another slumped figure—Braithe!—was handcuffed to the bottom of the T, her back to Rainy.

“It’s a restaurant. One of many. It’s being renovated, and no one is here. So no one will hear you, I’ve made sure of that.”

He stared at her, a little impatiently, Rainy noticed, waiting for her to give an explanation as to why she had come for Braithe. She wasn’t going to. Braithe was clearly more heavily drugged than she was, but she was alive.

“Not in the mood to talk, I see.” He started walking toward her with a bottle of water. Rainy watched him unscrew the cap. Paul held the lip to her mouth and she sucked up as much as she could before he pulled it away. His hands were ringless, his clothes mundane; there was nothing that would draw your attention if you passed him on a street.

“What did you give me?” Her voice was hoarse.

“What does it matter?”

Water dripped down her chin, and without the adrenaline pumping wildly at her decisions, she was afraid.

“Oh, I wanted to play,” he continued. “As soon as you started texting our little Braithe here with your accusations, I wanted to play with you. I realized you were the reason she was even here. She’s a little boring, if I’m telling the truth. I can see why our beloved Grant chose you.”

Rainy blinked at him, wondering if Braithe was awake and had heard him say that.

“Well, now I’m here to play, so let her go.”

“Oh, come on now. You didn’t really think I’d do that? You’re not a stupid girl, Rainy. Funny, though, I looked for you on the wonderful wide web and found next to nothing. No personal life, no particular place you grew up...no addresses. That couldn’t be because you’re lying about your real name, could it?”

Braithe looked up, her eyes glassy and unfocused.

“Maybe,” Rainy said. “But what difference does it make to you?”

“I like to bond with my victims.”

“Yeah? I knew a man who liked to bond that way, too.”

He smiled and she saw the expensive dental work, porcelain veneers; her grandmother had had them. It was the first time a smile had lit up his eyes, and it was creepy. She recognized her mistake: he was trying to throw her off-balance, make her so emotional she couldn’t think clearly.