He thought he saw a flash of fear behind her eyes, but then it was gone. She settled back in the chair and looked at him with a smile. Then she opened her knees. “Are we playing again so soon?” she said.

Archie put his foot on the chair between her legs, his toe at her crotch, and leaned close to her, so she could see his eyes and know how serious he was. “I’m not playing,” he said.

She was afraid now. She tried to hide it, but the color vanished from her cheeks, and she pressed her back against the chair, pulling away from him. “How do you know what I like?” he asked her.

Rachel met his gaze. Her nostrils flared as she breathed. “You have a lot of responsibility in your job,” she said. “A lot of power. Sometimes it feels good to give up that power for a little while. To be bound.” She tilted her head at him, and her eyebrows lifted. “But you like it the other way, too, don’t you? You like seeing me tied up.” Archie’s body went rigid. Rachel was appraising him now. She leaned forward slightly. “Did Gretchen Lowell use to let you tie her up?” she asked.

Archie backed away a few steps from the chair.

Any trace of fear he’d read in Rachel’s face was gone. She regarded him without emotion. She didn’t look much like Gretchen at all, he realized. The coloring was similar; the build was close. They had a similar genetic makeup. They both had large blue eyes and symmetrical features, wide cheekbones and plump lips. But really, Gretchen was much prettier.

Archie lowered his eyes and concentrated on buttoning his shirt. His wrists didn’t hurt anymore. He felt numb. “Are you my birthday present, Rachel?” he asked.

“Don’t give me that sad look,” Rachel said. “You knew what I was. The tattoo. All the questions I wouldn’t answer. The way I came on to you. You suspected from the beginning.”

“I just thought you were really into scar tissue,” Archie said with a mirthless laugh. She was right, though. He had known she was hiding something. It was one of the things that allowed him to be with her. She didn’t ask his secrets and he didn’t ask hers. It had seemed sort of ideal at the time.

“You never gave me Henry’s number,” Rachel said.

Archie glanced up from his shirt.

“Earlier today,” she said, “when I told you about last night. I said that I didn’t have Henry’s number, so I couldn’t call to make sure you were okay. You could have given it to me then, but you didn’t.”

She’d noticed that.

“I was really worried for you,” Rachel said, voice catching. “I thought she’d killed you.”

Archie studied her face, trying to find any truth in it. She smiled.