Her hair brushed against his elbow as she bent to unlock the cuffs. Handcuffs could be tricky. Unlocking them was sometimes a bitch. But Rachel didn’t seem to have any trouble with it. He heard the key turn in the lock and then felt the cuffs fall away. He immediately brought his hands around to his lap and looked at them. Tender red welts circled his wrists.

Rachel stepped next to him and stood on one foot so she could unbuckle a shoe, and then kicked it off and did the same with the other foot. She picked up the shoes. She was a good four inches shorter now, her body transformed without the tilt. She ran her fingers through his sweaty hair and then bent down and kissed him on the cheek. Her skin felt cool. “Next time you handcuff me,” she whispered.

She stepped away then and he turned to watch her as she moved toward the bathroom, already unhooking her bra behind her back. The heart-shaped tattoo sat above the waistline of her thong. It rocked back and forth as she walked.

The bathroom door closed and the shower started.

Archie sat in the chair he’d been cuffed to, rubbing his sore wrists, as stomach acid burned his throat.

Ordinarily he would have joined her for a shower—he certainly needed one—but he didn’t feel like it now. He rubbed his face, and then stood up, reordered himself, and zipped and buttoned his pants. The music was still blaring through his laptop speakers. Shirt flapping open, he walked over to the laptop and closed the music-streaming Web site that Rachel had running. The room went silent except for the sound of the shower running in the bathroom.

There was a beer in the fridge, and Archie went and got it out and opened it and took a long pull off the bottle before he’d even pushed the fridge door closed. Then he headed toward the living room, glancing again at the laptop as he passed. He froze, his eyes on the computer’s built-in camera. It was just a small black square, smaller than an eraser at the end of a pencil, centered above the screen. He’d never used it. He didn’t use Skype or take pictures with it. In fact, until now, he had forgotten it was there.

A prickly sensation spread across his shoulders, like dozens of sharp pins settling on his flesh.

He pivoted slowly to his left. The chair he had been cuffed to was in direct line of sight of the camera.

If Gretchen could take over control of a computer, she could control the computer’s camera.