HIS HEART POUNDED for five minutes after the police left his property. Detective Delossa was even lovelier in person, and it made him want to adjust his portrait of her. However, he had other concerns to worry about. For one thing, how the hell did they find his home? What made them want to look there? His neighbors were miles away, so he knew they hadn’t seen or heard anything suspicious. He had the strong feeling they’d be back, too, so how would he handle that?

An idea came to him, and he went to the garage to grab some wood for a sign. He hammered a post onto a piece of paneling and then took it to his studio to paint it with a fake realty listing. Once it dried, he’d put it in the yard to throw the authorities off. Why would they suspect a home that has people looking inside it every day?

I’m such a genius.

He heard rattling in the basement and figured his newest guest was alert. He couldn’t wait to welcome her to the fun, so he hurried down the stairs.

Tiffany Clark looked up at him in confusion. “Mr. Peirick, what the hell is going on here?” she demanded.

With a low chuckle, he removed the sheet he’d hung up in front of her, so she could see his other guest, Tamara. Her jaw went slack and fell open as far as it could. Then she began to scream. He laughed at first but then worried the cops could be back at any moment, so he fetched the duct tape.

“Why are you doing—” her words were cut off into a muffle as the tape covered her mouth.

He laughed again and stared into her eyes with daggers. “Why am I doing this? Because I can is the simplest answer, but it’s really because you rejected my hard work, so now you get to become a part of it.” He held up his masterpiece of the dead hooker. “Lovely, isn’t it?”

Her eyes pooled with tears as reality overcame her. Between the woman on the opposite wall, who had dried blood all over her, and the terrifying painting, she knew the fate that was in store for her.

“You told me to show emotion in my work, so I chose to use fear and suffering. I did a terrific job too if I do say so myself”—he gestured to the painting—“Yes, she suffered a lot for me, and I perfectly captured the moments.” He picked up his camera and snapped some pictures of her distress. “I think you’re going to make a wonderful model,” he growled with a threatening glare. “And now that I have seen your fear, I need to see your pain.” He approached her with a hammer and nail.