Brian Freeman - Stalked

"Funny."

"I'm sorry. Look, sex with strangers isn't my thing, but what Maggie does with her body is her business, not mine. And not yours, either."

"I know that."

Serena frowned. "Do you? You've spent the last ten years trying to pretend that Maggie has no sexuality at all. She's a complex, pretty, erotic, troubled, funny, exasperating woman. Sometimes I get nervous that you'll wake up and realize all that and find yourself attracted to her."

"You don't have to worry about me and Maggie."

"No?" She wondered how honest she could be. "You know, when the three of us are together, I feel like I'm the third wheel sometimes, not her."

He was obviously shocked. "I had no idea you felt that way."

"Women can be tough and neurotic at the same time, Jonny."

"I thought you two were friends."

"We are, but don't think we're not rivals, too."

"There's no rivalry," he told her. "It's you and me. Period."

"I'm glad to hear you say that, but it's not that simple, is it?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that the only way you're going to make it through this case is to see Maggie as a woman, not as a partner. That's the only way any of this will ever make sense to you. Maybe you'll like it, maybe you won't, but everything will be different."

"I'm just trying to understand how she could do what she did," he said.

Serena stood up. "Maggie is the only one who can explain it to you. Just remember that sometimes you're better off not knowing the truth about your friends."

She went to bed and left him sitting in front of the fire.

Stride sat in his Bronco opposite Sonia Bezac's house. His window was open, and he was in a foul mood. He held a cigarette outside, letting the wind carry the smoke behind him. It was almost nine in the morning. The street was straight out of Norman Rockwell, with Tudor homes sitting on comfortable lots. The median was landscaped with evergreen trees spaced to break up the view from one side to the other. Snow dotted the roofs. It was a mature neighborhood of forty-something couples and families, less than a mile from Hunters Park and UMD, a quiet enclave of women who did Pilates and walked golden retrievers and men who drank brandy and pretended to be their fathers.

He wondered if the neighbors knew about the sex club. He didn't think so. The people next door probably thought Sonia and Delmar hosted elegant dinner parties behind drawn curtains and would have been appalled to find out what was really going on. Appalled. Curious. Excited. Angry that they weren't invited.

Sonia's husband Delmar, the urologist, emerged from the front door, wearing a gray suit and a dressy wool coat. He was several inches shorter than Sonia and considerably wider. The wind mussed the comb-over across his bald pate. He patted his hair down and got behind the wheel of a new, black Mercedes sedan.

Penises paid well.

Delmar roared off down the hill. Stride stubbed out his cigarette, got out of his Bronco, and crossed to the median. The front door opened again, and Sonia came out. He felt a stir of nostalgia, seeing her. It took him back to a time when his body was young and hormone-filled, like a showroom car itching for the highway. In her forties, Sonia still carried an aura of sex. Her red hair blew like a tornado. She was tall and took quick, careful steps in her heels down the icy brick walkway. Her coat was open, and he saw a forest-green silk blouse and black skirt.

He crossed the rest of the street, and she melted, too, just a little, when she saw him. There was a softness in her face that came and went quickly. She realized he wasn't smiling.

"Hello again," she said.

"I need to talk to you, Sonia. Can we go inside?"

"I'm late. I need to open the shop. It's mine now, you know."

"This won't wait."

Sonia crossed her arms. "Maybe I watch too much television, but I don't really have to talk to you at all, do I? I can just get in my car and go."

"Sure. I'll just talk to the newspapers instead."

"About what?"

He leaned close to her and whispered. He smelled jasmine perfume. "Alpha girls."

Sonia's face, already pale, went bone-white. "All right."

She led him back to the house. Inside, she took off her coat and showed him to the living room. He took a seat on a lemon-colored sofa, which was firm and didn't give under his weight. The room was modern and expensive. An oil painting on the wall showed what looked to him like squiggles of red and blue paint. The coffee table was chrome and glass. He saw an abstract metal sculpture of a nude near the fireplace.

Sonia kicked off her heels and sat in an armchair across from him. She grabbed a pack of cigarettes. "It's okay to smoke, if you'd like." She lit one up and blew the smoke toward the ceiling fan.

"I've had my one for the morning."

"What willpower." She put a stocking-clad foot on the ottoman. Her leg was long and slender. "The club meets downstairs, if you're wondering."

"I wasn't."

"So what, do you and Serena want to join? We'd love to have you." She smiled.

"No, thanks."

"It's not a coven, for Christ's sake. Nobody gets hurt."

"I think a rapist is targeting your club."

Her smile vanished. "That's not funny."

"No, it's not. You know what happened to Katrina, don't you?"

"Yes, but what makes you think that had anything to do with the club?"

"Katrina was assaulted one day after the last party. Did you think that was just a coincidence?"

Sonia jabbed her cigarette at him. "I know every man who was there. It couldn't have been any of them. So yes, I thought it was just a coincidence. Or even-"

"Even what?"

"I even thought Katrina might have made it up. You know, like Tanjy did. I thought she might be feeling guilty about what she did at the club. It happens."

"It wasn't just Katrina," Stride told her. "Another alpha girl was assaulted."

Sonia closed her eyes. "Son of a bitch," she murmured. "Who?"

"I can't say."

"Are you sure she was in the club?"

"I'm sure."

"Is this going to become public?"

"Very likely."

"Shit, shit, shit." She shook her head. "Do you have any idea what this is going to do to us?"

"Try thinking about the women who were brutalized, Sonia."

"Yes, of course, I know. I just can't believe this could involve the club. We are very careful about who gets in."

"What about Tanjy? Was she an alpha girl?" Stride asked.

"No. I put out a couple feelers with her, but she wasn't interested."

"Tanjy had no connection at all to the club?"

"None. Are you telling me she really was raped? Look, that means there must be some other connection. Tanjy didn't know a thing about the club."

"Don't get carried away. Two of your alpha girls were assaulted. That's not a coincidence." He added, "Tell me how this all works, Sonia. How you get your members. How often people meet. What happens."

Sonia put her cigarette in a turquoise clamshell ashtray. "I'm not sure I should be telling you any of this."

"Every woman in the club may be in danger, Sonia. Including you."

"Even so, it might be better if I talked to a lawyer first."

"Go ahead, but then it all comes out," Stride said. "Do you want me to get a subpoena? Do you really want all this in a filing with the court? We're just getting started with the information I need."

Sonia leaned her head back and stared at the ceiling. Her neck was slim, like a swan's. "Just between us?" she asked.

"For now."

"All right," she said with obvious reluctance. "We have about twenty members. Mostly couples, but some singles, too. No one gets in without a personal invitation from me and Delmar. Referrals only. We do background checks on everyone before letting them in."