He didn’t know what was real anymore. It didn’t matter anyway. He looked out the window at the dark sky. Gretchen would be here soon. He finished buttoning his shirt and tucked it in. “How much did she pay you?” Archie asked.

Rachel grinned. “A lot.”

“Thanks,” Archie said dryly.

“I’m expensive,” she said.

“And worth every penny.”

Rachel’s expression softened. “It was fun,” she said.

“I’m glad,” Archie said. “How was it arranged?”

“She contacted me via e-mail. She paid through an offshore account. Our contact has been limited to that.”

She said it so casually. Like it was any other business arrangement. Like she’d been hired as a nanny. Archie didn’t know if she was naïve or just deluded. “You know that she’s a serial killer, right?” Archie asked. “You caught that part?”

“She used a different name,” Rachel said defensively. “I didn’t know who she was when I agreed to the booking, I swear. She was still at the state hospital at the time. She must have used an intermediary.”

“When did you figure it out?” Archie asked.

Rachel hesitated. “It didn’t take long once I’d gotten here. Once I’d met you. You say her name in your sleep. You told me yourself how much I look like her. But I didn’t see anything wrong with it. She was paying me to give you pleasure. And it seemed like you could do with some.”

“How charitable of you,” Archie said. He picked his beer off the counter and took a long pull, trying to settle his nerves. It was warm and flat.

“She means something to you,” Rachel observed.

Archie let that idea sink in. “I chase her,” he said. “She chases me. We’ve been doing it since you were in middle school.” He considered his beer. Then took another sip. “We have our ups and downs, like any other couple.”

“You’ve slept with her,” Rachel said.

Archie could lie. But why? To protect his reputation? His family? Rachel had been hired to fuck him. She didn’t have a lot of leverage in the morality department. “Yes,” he said. He could have left it at that. But he couldn’t say it, without trying to explain. “Before I knew who she was. She had infiltrated the investigation as a psychologist. We thought the Beauty Killer was a man back then. There was a consensus that a woman couldn’t be capable of that kind of sadism”—he shook his head and laughed—“which I find fucking hysterical in retrospect.” He shrugged. “I’m not making excuses. Because I slept with her after I knew who she was, too, right before she gave me this.” Archie traced his fingers over the scar on his neck. “But I would put that in the category of breakup sex. Are you really from San Diego?”

“Yes,” Rachel said.