He went into Darrell's bedroom. The smell of cleaning supplies was even thicker in here. In addition to the damp carpet, the bed had been completely stripped of sheets and blankets, and the mattress itself was wet, as if it had been scrubbed down.

Things were getting further and further away from "gift wrapped victim."

He went back into the living room.

"Okay," he said, straining to keep his voice calm, "I swear I won't get mad. Just tell me what you did. We'll work through this together."

"You know the girl you're after? The one on the news? The one whose friend is in the basement?"

"Yes, I know who you're talking about. Her name is Charlene. Did you kill her?"

"No. I killed her boss."

"How?"

"I brought him back here and stabbed him to death."

"Did you have sex with him?"

"No. Of course not."

Ken's face felt like it was on fire. He wanted to go over there and smack the shit out of her, though of course he'd never lay a hand on her. He tried to figure out what to say, but couldn't formulate a response that wasn't simply a string of expletives, so he settled for pacing around the room for a few moments.

"This was your fault," said Vivian.

"How the hell was it my fault?"

"You betrayed my trust. And it made me want to have my fun, too."

"You couldn't have talked to me about it?"

"You didn't talk to me."

"Actually, I did."

"No, you withheld the worst parts. You told me the women were already dead. You didn't tell me about the depraved stuff in the basement. You didn't tell me about this place. Don't you dare pretend that you were honest with me."

Ken continued to pace. "Fine. Fine. You murdered her boss. Should I expect the cops to break down this door at any minute?"

"Of course not. I was careful."

"How careful? You're twenty years out of practice."

"Nobody knows."

"All right. Shit. How far did it go?"

"What do you mean? I told you I stabbed him to death. That's pretty fucking far."

"You stabbed him to death on the bed. How far did it go? Were you rolling around naked? Did you go down on him? Did you make out? What happened?"

"He thought he was going to get laid, obviously," said Vivian, "but nothing happened. I told him I was going to give him a backrub to relax him. All he got was a knife."

Ken wasn't entirely convinced that Vivian was telling the truth, though she wasn't avoiding eye contact or fidgeting or giving off any of the other nonverbal clues that somebody was lying. If she'd kissed the guy to lure him onto the bed...well, he wouldn't think about that.

"I wish you hadn't done this," Ken told her.

"So do I," Vivian admitted.