Say You Love Me

Did Britta Berger have any idea that he had seen into hers? That he had been watching her for months? That he knew her schedule. The food she chose for breakfast. The way she liked her coffee. The fact that she enjoyed a glass of wine on her patio at night before she retired. That she brushed her short red hair at least a hundred times before she crawled beneath the sheets.

That she slept without underwear.

That he’d seen her naked in the shower, her own hands stroking over sensitive private places that he ached to touch.

Yet, the seductress that he saw thrived on privacy. She was an enigma. He’d discovered that in his research. In her own way, she was hiding from life itself.

The vulnerability in her eyes had drawn him. She wanted someone to reach out and make the pain of her past dissipate. But she was afraid. After all, underneath her physical beauty lay lies, weaknesses, false promises. Evil.

Yes, a bad girl lurked inside Britta Berger and he would show the world her true self, just as he would with his other subjects. If it hurt them, then so be it.

His own pain had brought him to this point. He used it. Thrived upon it. It had inspired the theme for his work, which would hopefully gain him acclaim.

Then the beautifuls would be erased, their ugliness exposed forever.

IRRITATION KNOTTED Jean-Paul Dubois’s shoulders as he drummed his knuckles on R.J. Justice’s desk. Dammit. Time was critical. He had a murder to investigate and the magazine owner had kept him waiting for half an hour.

Long enough for him to decide he didn’t like the man. That he was weird. His office collections indicated an interest in S and M, witchcraft, bestiality and photographs that bordered on porn.

Justice finally loped in, tugging at his tie. “Sorry about that. My meeting ran over.”

Jean-Paul ignored the feigned apology and studied the man’s features, sizing him up. The women might call him handsome but a cold hardness that Jean-Paul had detected in other suspects hinted that he was ruthless and calculating. He would do whatever he had to do to protect Naked Desires. And to get what he wanted in his personal life.

“You met with Britta already?” Justice asked as he settled into his desk chair.

Jean-Paul nodded. “She was very helpful.” Britta had claimed she and Justice were simply business partners. Just how did Justice feel about her?

“She was upset,” Justice said. “Were her fears justified?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Justice ran a hand over his sleek desk. “Damn. So the crime scene was real?”

Jean-Paul nodded. “We found the woman in the photo murdered earlier.” He leaned forward, his gaze penetrating. “You don’t seem surprised.”

Justice shrugged. “I realize our magazine caters to the…adventuresome side, so we get some odd mail. But we certainly don’t condone murder.”

Jean-Paul narrowed his eyes. “I asked Miss Berger to bring all the mail she’s received in the past month to the station. It’s possible this guy wrote in before.”

Justice hesitated. “I suppose that sounds fair, although I would like to keep our magazine out of the investigation when you talk to the press.”

“You don’t want the publicity?”

Justice shrugged. “I can stand it, but I was thinking about Britta’s safety.”

“Of course.” Jean-Paul cleared his throat, not certain he believed the man. What if Justice had killed the woman, then sent the photo to Britta anonymously to stir publicity?

“Do you keep a record of the submissions with the sender’s name and address?”

“Yes. In a secure file.”

“Who sent this photo?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know,” Justice said matter-of-factly. “I checked and the envelope wasn’t logged in. Ralphie must have found it in the overnight-mail slot and put it on Britta’s desk.”

“Then I need to speak to him.”

Justice punched a button on the intercom and ordered the boy to come to his office.

Jean-Paul stood. “Mr. Justice, can you tell me anything that might help us find the killer? Did you know the victim? Had you ever seen her before?”

Justice steepled his fingers as if in thought. “No. Should I know her?”

“Not necessarily, but I have to ask.”

“What was her name?”

“We haven’t identified her yet.” Jean-Paul paused. “How about the cabin? Did you recognize it?”

Justice scoffed. “That shanty could be any one of a hundred tucked in the bayou.”

Jean-Paul pushed on, “Have you received any calls or letters yourself that might be related?”

“I would have reported it if I had, Detective.”

“Can you think of any reason the killer targeted Miss Berger with the photograph?”

Justice raised a brow. “She’s a beautiful woman. Maybe the killer saw her photo in the magazine and wanted to get her attention.”

“You’re probably right,” Jean-Paul admitted, although his gut instinct hinted there was more. And that Justice was holding back. Maybe he was the one fixated on her. Maybe he’d killed a replica of her to frighten her into his arms.

“How long have you known Miss Berger?” Jean-Paul asked.

Justice’s hands tightened by his side. A telltale sign that the question stirred his anxiety. “A few months.”

“And your relationship is…?”

“Strictly business,” Justice said with a predatory gleam flashing in his eyes.

“Has she been involved with anyone recently? Someone who might want to hurt her?”

“Not that I know of,” Justice said in a curt tone.

“You haven’t noticed any strange men hanging around? Maybe outside?”

“No.” Justice cleared his throat. “Well, except for that Reverend Cortain and his religious group. They’re harassing us.”

“By protesting the publication of Naked Desires?”