Strip Search by William Bernhardt

the base of her neck. “Me, not so much.”
    “Me neither,” I said, smiling. “But we found what looks like some sort of mathematical equation scrawled in grease at the crime scene. Did your husband…doodle?”
    “Not that I ever saw.”
    “Did he pal around with other people who were mathematicians or math enthusiasts?”
    “Amir did not have time for, as you say, palling around. He was a devoted, hard-working man.”
    “Yes, I can see that.” This was going nowhere. Better to wrap it up, maybe leave an opening to return when I had more information. “How are you doing, ma’am?” I asked.
    “I am…well.”
    “This can’t be easy for you. Taking care of four children, all on your own, one of them still in diapers. And now you’re confronted with this tragedy. Are you going to be all right?”
    She lowered her baby back into the cradle, then looked directly at me with penetrating milk chocolate eyes. I didn’t need NLP to perceive her guileless honesty. “Where is it written that life should be easy? Not in our sacred texts. Certainly not in your Christian Bible. I know nothing of easy, certainly not since we came to this country. But I know this. I have a duty. To my family, my children. And I will honor that duty. It is perhaps not so much that I do. But I will do it.”
     
     
    SOMETHING WAS WRONG. Danielle understood that immediately. Something about the man’s manner, the brutish expression on his face. Even if Gina were trying to avoid typecasting, she knew that ultimately their films had to be entertaining. And not in any way…frightening. This guy intimidated without even speaking.
    “Look,” she said, “it’s late, and I’m tired. I really don’t have the energy for an audition right now. Could you come back in the morning—”
    “I’m not here to be in one of your filthy films,” he said, and before he had even finished the sentence, he sprang forward like a bull terrier released from his leash. “I left your actor lying in a heap in the parkin’ lot.” Danielle tried to back away, but she wasn’t nearly quick enough. He grabbed her right arm by the wrist and twisted it behind her at an extreme angle.
    Danielle cried out. “You’re hurting me!”
    “That’s why I’m here,” the man growled.
    “Why?” she whimpered, fighting back tears of pain. “Why are you doing this?”
    “’Cause you earned it,” he answered, snarling. “’Cause you were chosen.”
    All at once, he shoved her onto the bed, decked out in crimson silk sheets for the next day’s shoot. He slammed her back against the brass headboard, making her head spin and her eyes flutter.
    “Earned…it,” she managed. She had to fight unconsciousness. If she fell asleep, there was no telling what this maniac might do to her. He might be a crazed fan, bent upon raping his favorite actress. But she didn’t think so. The look in his eyes didn’t suggest sexual lust. It was just…evil.
    She tried to speak again, but before she could, he had jerked her arm up and snapped a pair of prop handcuffs, dangling from the bedpost, around her wrist. But no, she thought, her brain still scrambled, those are for the guy. Mason. I’m supposed to be the dominant one. “I—I haven’t earned…anything. I’m a respectable businesswoman.”
    “Really? Is that what your daughter would say?”
    A cold chill spread through Danielle’s already almost insensible body. How could he know?
    “Maybe we oughta ask her how she felt, lyin’ in that basket, cryin’ for a mother who wouldn’t come.”
    Danielle didn’t understand, couldn’t follow. The throbbing in her head became more intense. A moment later, her other arm was locked into the cuffs. She was pinned down, spread wide and vulnerable, unable to escape.
    “A mother like you doesn’t deserve to be no successful businesswoman, if you can call it that.” He straddled her, but made no move to remove her clothing. Again, despite his position, Danielle sensed no