Hes off-balance, Harley thought, and wondered just how many skeletons this man kept in his closet. Was he cataloging them in his head, trying to figure out what the police might have discovered?

Roth kept his eyes on Harley as he flipped the file open. When he at last looked down at the contents, however, his mocking smile shrank like a startled cat.

What the hell is this? he demanded, swiping the file away. It fell off the desk, the photographs fluttering to the floor.

Now in control of the situation, if temporarily, Harley decided it was time to break her silence. This is your handiwork. Thought you could just make them disappear, didnt you? If you drove them out far enough, buried them deep enoughit would be just like theyd never existed.

Roth sank back in the chair, his lips parted in a frown that suggested he couldnt believe what he was hearing. Harley studied him, unable to tell whether this was an act or the real thing.

Picking up the photographs from the floor, Harley slapped them one at a time on the table, naming each of the victims as she did so. There were three types of photographs: pictures of the victims taken by friends or family well before their deaths, pictures of the victims where their bodies had been discovered, and pictures of the victims in the morgue.

Roth turned away from them as if from a noxious odor. This again? I told you, I had nothing to do with whatever happened to them. I dont even know who these people are!

No? Look closer. Harley slid the photographs toward him. His wandering eye fell on them again.

I said I dont He stopped mid-sentence and leaned toward one of the pictures. Oh, my God, he murmured. Thats…

The next few moments happened in rapid succession. Roth began to rise, grasped the corner of the table, and vomited across the floor. If it was an act, it was a good one.

So you do recognize them, Harley said, trying to hold back the doubt she suddenly felt.

Roth took several slow, calming breaths. He touched his mouth and then looked at his hand.

Tissue, he said in a low voice.

Harley glanced at the mirror. A few moments later, Callaway entered with a box of tissues, which he handed to Harley. Harley pulled one free and gave it to Roth.

Roth nodded his thanks as he cleaned his face. Harley, not wishing for him to fully regain his composure, decided to press her advantage.

You knew them, she insisted. Which means you lied to us.

Roth set the crumpled tissue aside and ran a hand wearily over his face. We used nicknamesthats why I didnt recognize their names.

Harley made no attempt to disguise the anger in her voice. But they came to your property. You groomed them, taught them how to pleasure you and your guests. Your own private harem.