"You guys don't have any idea at all?"
"We're convinced it's the Woman," I say, then shrug. "But who the hell is she?"
"Someone you've seen before."
"Well, yeah. I saw her in a cell seventeen years ago."
He shakes his head. "No, I mean she's not just going to pop out of the woodwork after that much time."
"Agreed. Dallas and I talked about that. She's been watching all this time. Honestly, it's creepy."
"I'll say."
I bend down to pick up a shell, then toss it back into the ocean. "What did you say a few seconds ago?"
"That she won't just pop out of the woodwork?"
I shake my head. "No. You said that we've seen her before." I tap my finger on my chin as I think, as if that will jar my thoughts into place. "That's so obvious, but I never thought of it like that. I thought about her watching us. Not us seeing her. But we've probably noticed her. Maybe even talked to her."
"Maybe at one of Dallas's famous parties."
I roll my eyes. "Well, great. We've just narrowed the suspect list down to ninety-five percent of the female population of Manhattan."
"Yeah, but you can narrow it down more. Most of the girls at those parties are just that. Girls. But if your attacker is the Woman, she has to be older, right?"
"True. But there were a lot of older women vying for the chance to cheat on their husbands with Dallas." I twist my mouth wryly. "I'm pretty sure they even formed a Meetup group."
Brody ignores me. "She could also be someone in the neighborhood. Not necessarily a resident. But the dry cleaner. Or even one of Dallas's part-time maids or cooks. After the kidnapping, she worked her way into his life. She wants to be close to him. Hell, she has to."
"But if I'm her competition, why didn't she just kill me on the street? She could have easily." It's true. I hate it, but it's true.
"Who knows? Maybe you're just lucky. Maybe she's got something that passes for a conscience. Or maybe she just likes the drama that comes with playing a game."
"The drama," I say, feeling a little sick. I remember how she was when she tied me down so she could go torture Dallas. I recall what Dallas has told me about what she did to him, the sick games she made him play. The way she got off on it.
"You nailed it," I say, meeting Brody's eyes. "She's definitely playing a game."
"I know." His voice is low, as serious as I've ever heard it. "Let's hope to hell she loses."
Dallas stood on the back porch looking out at the Pacific, breathing in the sea air and listening to the waves crash onto the beach. In the distance, he could see Brody and Jane returning, and he watched their progress. The view was peaceful, even beautiful, and it pissed him off that they'd come to this perfect location not for a romantic getaway but as an escape from a tabloid hell. Not to mention a damn stalker.
Fucking bullshit.
On the beach, Brody veered off toward the Stark bungalow, and Jane picked up speed until she was jogging toward Dallas.
"Hey," she said, peering at his face. "We've got this. We can handle this."
He lifted a brow. "Handle it? Our deepest secrets spewed all over the goddamn media like it's entertainment?"
For a moment, she just stared at him. Then she surprised the hell out of him and burst out laughing. She was laughing so hard, in fact, that she had to back up and lean against the wall.
"Christ, Jane." He practically growled the words. But the more she laughed--the more she held up her hand to indicate that she just couldn't talk yet--the more he calmed down. And by the time he actually pulled her still-hiccupping body into his arms, he was actually smiling. Although that was more in response to her than to any humor in the situation.
"Talk to me," he said, when she finally relaxed in his arms.
She tilted her head back, her eyes lit with amusement. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. But come on, Dallas. Our secrets are already all over the media. We already are entertainment. And hell, maybe all the idiots who've been saying we're vile will take a step back now that they know more about what happened."
"Do you want them to know more?"