Nowhere Safe by Nancy Bush

had a healthy sex life. He wasn’t into role-playing!”
    “Who’s Gloria?” she asked, searching her notes.
    “Gloria del Courte. A coworker of Chris’s. She always had a thing for him, but she didn’t start making terrible remarks concerning him until after that scurrilous newspaper story about those weird sex acts, like autoerotic asphyxiation.”
    The detective frowned. “I’m not sure what newspaper article you’re referring to.”
    “The Oregonian did a whole series of articles after Chris’s death.” She flapped her hands, waving the memory away. “It was just awful.”
    “There was a placard around his neck that read—”
    “Yes, I know,” she snapped. “ I MUST PAY FOR WHAT I’VE DONE, or something. That’s what they said in the papers. But he wouldn’t cheat on me. I know it. Why won’t anyone believe me! This wasn’t role-playing. Someone killed my Chris!” Tears leapt to her eyes. They were all persecuting her. She was going to have to report them. Lodge a complaint at City Hall against the police. It was the only way to get them to leave her alone!
    The detective hesitated a moment and Janet could tell she was considering what to say next. She braced herself. She didn’t like this attractive young woman any more than she’d liked the older Chubb with his hangdog face and world-weary expression or the other woman detective who’d called on the phone.
    Rafferty closed the file. “There’s been another incident of a man drugged and tied to a pole. You may have seen it on the news.”
    Janet’s mouth dropped open on a gasp. “What? I don’t watch the news. I don’t even read the paper anymore! Who is this man? What are you saying?”
    “His name’s Stefan Harmak and he was tied to a pole that holds up a basketball hoop on the Twin Oaks Elementary School grounds in Laurelton. Like your husband, he was stripped down to his boxer shorts, but the temperature’s much milder now, so he survived.”
    “Oh, my God! ” She pressed a hand to her cheek. “What does this mean? Who’s doing this?”
    “Mr. Harmak said a man accosted him, forced him to drink something that had the drug Rohypnol in it, commonly known as roofies, or the date-rape drug.”
    “Rape?” Janet was horrified.
    “Neither Mr. Harmak nor your husband was raped,” the detective went on. “Mr. Harmak also had a placard placed around his neck. His said I WANT WHAT I CAN’T HAVE .”
    “Who is this man? Why is he doing this?” Janet could feel the hysteria rising in her voice.
    “We believe someone targeted both your husband and Mr. Harmak specifically.”
    Something in her tone bothered Janet. Like she was blaming Chris for this. “I don’t like where this is going.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “You think this is my husband’s fault. That he brought it on himself.”
    “I didn’t mean to give you that impression.”
    “Didn’t you?” Oh, they were all the same. She knew what they were thinking and it was like a hot needle in her brain. “I think I’ve answered all the questions I’m going to.”
    “I’m sorry you feel that way. This new case has opened up avenues into learning what happened to your husband.”
    The detective asked a few more questions, covering much the same ground, but Janet refused to answer in anything but monosyllables. She was also processing that this second guy tied up was going to throw more light on her husband’s death. Hadn’t they gone through enough? When did it ever end?
    Finally, the detective made as if she were going to leave. Janet glanced at the clock. It was after two.
    Go, she thought. Get out.
    “I would really like to talk to your son.”
    “Out of the question,” Janet snapped. “I don’t want my son involved in any part of this. He’s suffered enough.”
    “Our goal is to find out who did this to your husband,” the detective reminded her, as if Janet were a schoolgirl.
    “You want to sensationalize it! That’s what you want. Chris Jr.’s only