12 years earlier ...

As usual, Maura Isles was in a terrible rush. She had only ten minutes left to change and put on makeup for the musical, currently the rage on Broadway and sold out a year in advance, and the train from Bayside into the city left at 6:52 p.m. It took Maura three minutes to get from her apartment to the train station by car alone. So she actually had only seven minutes left. Rummaging through the cluttered closet she'd been meaning to clean out last winter, she quickly settled on a black silk skirt with a matching jacket and a pink top. With one shoe in hand, muttering Michael's name to herself, she frantically fished out one shoe after another from a large pile on the floor until she finally found it: the matching second patent pump.

She hurried to the bathroom, slipping on the shoes on the way. It wasn't supposed to be like this, she thought, as she brushed her blond mane over her head with one hand and brushed her teeth with the other. She should have been relaxed and carefree, excited and full of anticipation, her head clear of all distractions when he finally asked the question of all questions. No preoccupied back and forth, no rushing from intensive class to study group with her nervous fellow students, no upcoming bar exam overshadowing everything else. She spit out the toothpaste, sprayed herself with Chanel No. 5, ran for the door. Only four minutes left, the next train wouldn't come until 7:22 p.m., and then they'd probably miss the first act. In her mind's eye, the image of an annoyed Michael appeared, waiting for her in front of the Majestic Theater, a rose in his hand, a small box in his pocket, constantly checking his watch.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. She should have been prepared.

She walked through the courtyard to her car. She hurriedly put on the earrings she had just grabbed from the nightstand, feeling the gaze of her peculiar first-floor neighbor at her back, standing at the top of his living room window as he did every day. He watched her as she crossed the patio, out into the world, into her life. But as quickly as it had come, she shook off the cold, uncomfortable feeling again and got into the car. This was the wrong moment to think about Marvin. Or about the exam, or about the Repeti torium, or about the study group. No, right now she just wanted to think about her answer to the question of all questions that Michael would surely ask her tonight.

Three minutes. She only had three minutes left, she thought, as she ignored the stop sign at the corner and ran the light at Northern Boulevard on a dark yellow.

The deafening shrill of the whistle assaulted her ears as she ran with giant strides up the stairs to the platform. The doors closed at the exact moment she waved gratefully to the train conductor, who had been waiting, and jumped into the car. She leaned back in the red plastic seat and tried to catch her breath after this spurt. The train started up, heading for Manhattan. She almost missed the train.

Take it easy, relax, Maura, she admonished herself, as Queens glided past the window in the twilight. Because tonight was a very special night: she had a feeling.

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The wind had picked up, and the dense evergreen bushes that hid his motionless body rustled and swayed. Lightning ripped the sky to the west: white and purple zigzag streaks flared behind the glittering Manhattan skyline. Now it was going to start pouring, too, and soon. He hunkered down in the underbrush and gritted his teeth as his neck stiffened at the rumble of thunder. That was all he needed! A downpour while he crouched out here waiting for the bitch to finally come home.

In his hiding place in the thicket of bushes surrounding the apartment building, not a breath stirred; the heat under the thick clown mask was so unbearable that he felt as if his face would melt. Down here, the smell of decaying leaves and damp earth was stronger than the evergreens, and he forced himself to breathe through his mouth. Something crawled past his ear. He tried not to imagine the vermin that was probably climbing over his body, up to his sleeves, into his boots. Nervously, he played with the sharp-toothed blade he held between gloved fingers.

The courtyard was deserted.

Everything was quiet except for the wind rustling through the branches of the massive oaks and the constant rattling of the air conditioners that protruded dangerously far from the wall of the building above him. Shrubbery overgrew virtually the entire side of the building so that he couldn't be seen even from the apartments directly above his head. The carpet of weeds and decaying leaves crackled softly as he stood up and slowly made his way through the brush toward her window.

She hadn't closed the blinds. The light from the streetlight seeped through the hedges and fell in razor-sharp streaks into her bedroom. Inside, all was quiet and dark. Her bed was unmade, the closet door was wide open. Shoes, pumps, sandals, sneakers, lay in a pile in front of the closet. On a dresser next to the TV sat a collection of teddy bears: Dozens of black glass eyes stared at him through the dim light. The red glow of the alarm clock showed 00:33 a.m.

He knew exactly where to look. He fixed his eyes on the dresser and licked his dry lips. Colorful bras and matching lacy panties spilled out of the open drawer.

As if automatically, he put his hand to his jeans and felt his cock getting hard. Quickly his eyes slid over to the rocking chair where her white lace negligé hung. He closed his eyes and rubbed himself faster; in his mind, the scene he had watched last night appeared before him with all its details: Her big, firm tits bouncing up and down under the sheer white fabric as she sat on top of her boyfriend and fucked him. Head thrown back in ecstasy, her full, curved lips wide open in pleasure; she was a bad girl, had left the blinds open. Bad, bad girl. His hand moved even faster. Now he imagined what she looked like wearing nothing but hold-up nylon stockings and the high heels from her closet. And how he would grab her by the black stilettos, yank her legs up, up, up, and spread them wide apart as she screamed. At first in fear, but then in pleasure. Her blonde mane spread around her head like a fan, her hands tied to the headboard of the bed. The lace-trimmed center of the pretty pink panties and labia were right in front of his mouth. Mmmmh! Inside, he groaned, and his breath hissed as it escaped through the tiny air hole in the mask's distorted grin. He braked himself before he came, and opened his eyes. The bedroom door was ajar and the rest of the apartment was dark and empty. He crawled back into the evergreen. Sweat ran down his face, the latex clung to his skin. Thunder rolled again. He felt his cock shrink inside his pants.

She should have been home hours ago. Wednesday nights, she never came in after 10:45 p.m. And today, of all days, she was late! He chewed on his lower lip until the gash he'd bitten open an hour ago bled again; he could taste it salty in his mouth and had to fight the almost irresistible urge to scream.

Goddamn fucking bitch! What a disappointment! How excited he had been, truly ecstatic, counting the minutes. He had imagined her walking right past him at 10:45 p.m. in her tight gym shorts, just a few steps away. Above him, the lights would come on, and he would slowly rise in front of her window. Again, she would have left the blinds open, deliberately, and he would be watching her. Watch her pull the sweaty T-shirt over her head, slide the tight shorts down her bare thighs. Watch her get ready for bed. Getting ready for him!

Excited as a schoolboy before a first date, he had giggled to himself in delight in the undergrowth. How far are we going tonight, my love? French kissing? Petting? Or the whole nine yards? But the minutes had passed, and two hours later he was still squatting like a bum here in these bushes with all the unspeakable bugs crawling into all his crevices and probably laying eggs in his ears. The anticipation that had driven him, fed his fantasies, had faded. And slowly the disappointment had turned to anger, an anger that grew icier with each passing minute. His jaws ground and his breath hissed. No, sir: he was no longer excited. He was not ecstatic. He was exasperated beyond measure!

He chewed his lip. In the darkness, the minutes seemed like hours. Lightning flashed, thunder rolled louder, and he decided it was time to go. Grimly, he pulled off his mask, picked up the bag of toys, and peeled himself out of the brush.

Next time, then.

At that moment, a pair of headlights slid across the dark street, and he hastily jumped from the asphalt driveway back into the bushes. A silver BMW pulled up in the second row in front of the apartment complex, not ten yards from his hiding place.

After what seemed like an eternity, the passenger door opened and two long legs, her beautiful feet in black patent leather stilettos, swung out. He knew immediately that it was her, and an infinite calm flowed through him.

If this isn't destiny ...

Then the clown retreated into the evergreen. And waited.

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Times Square and 42nd Street glowed garishly in neon light, and even on an ordinary Wednesday night, the place was bustling after midnight. Maura nervously chewed her thumbnail and looked out the window as the BMW wound its way through the streets of Manhattan toward 34th Street and the Midtown Tunnel.

In fact, she shouldn't have gone out tonight at all. The annoying little voice in her head had been praying it to her all day, but she hadn't listened. Even though it was only four weeks until the New York State Bar Exam, she had skipped the study group for this date.

If only it had been worth it! But the evening had turned out to be anything but romantic, with the result that Maura was now not only miserable but panicked, suffering from terrible test anxiety. Michael rambled endlessly about his day in business hell, and neither her distress nor her panic seemed to strike him, let alone her disinterest. Or if he did, maybe he didn't care.

Michael Decker was Maura's boyfriend. Possibly her future ex-boyfriend. A promising attorney, he was seeking partnership at the prestigious Wall Street firm of White, Hughey & Lombard. Maura had met Michael the summer before two years ago when she worked for him as an intern. She had quickly realized that Michael didn't take no for an answer when he wanted to hear a yes. The first day, he'd yelled at her to read the precedents more carefully; then, on the second, he'd kissed her passionately in the copy room. He was handsome, intelligent, and had such a romantic aura that Maura found inexplicable but also irresistible. So she'd found herself a new internship, they'd started a relationship, and tonight was the second anniversary of their first date.

For two weeks, Maura had been begging, almost pleading, with Michael to see if they could postpone celebrating this anniversary and do it after she graduated. Nevertheless, he had called that afternoon and surprised her with theater tickets for tonight's performance of her favorite musical. Michael knew the weaknesses of those around him, and if he didn't, he found them out. When Maura had said no, he simply took advantage of her strong sense of guilt. We hardly see each other anymore, Maura. You're learning way too much. We need this, to spend time together once in a while. It's important, baby. You're important to me. And so on and so forth. Then he had mentioned that he had practically stolen the theater tickets from a client who was dependent on him. Finally, she had softened and agreed to meet with him. She had canceled the study group, changed her clothes frantically after the revision class, and taken the commuter train downtown. She had even almost managed to ignore the admonishing little voice of her conscience, which had grown louder and louder.

And after all that, she hadn't even been particularly surprised when, ten minutes after the last bell, a kindly old usher had given her the news that Michael was stuck in an urgent meeting and would be late. Right then, she should have left, but ... she didn't. Now she stared out the window as the BMW slid through the tunnel under the East River and lights flashed by in a blur of yellow outside.

For the last act, Michael had appeared with a rose in his hand and had rattled off the old familiar apologies before Maura could slap him. Then, a billion explanations later, he had somehow managed to persuade her to go out to dinner after all. While they'd been on their way across town to Carmine's, Maura had wondered when exactly she'd lost her spine. How she hated her distinct sense of guilt. This was bordering on self-loathing!

If the evening had ended there, everything would still have been all right.

But over a veal escalope with marsala sauce and a bottle of Cristal, Michael had then taken the cake. Maura had just started to relax a bit and enjoy the champagne and the atmosphere, when Michael had pulled out a small box, which she had seen at a glance was too big.

"Happy anniversary." He had smiled softly, that perfect smile, his sensual brown eyes flickering in the candlelight. A trio of violins had started circling them, like sharks on the prowl. "I love you, baby."

But you obviously don't want to marry me, she'd thought as she'd eyed the silver foil-wrapped box with the oversized white bow and had shied away from opening it. Had shied away from discovering what wasn't inside.

"Go ahead, unwrap it." He'd refilled with champagne, and his smile had grown even smugger. He'd probably thought a little alcohol and some bling could fix what he'd screwed up by being late. He had no idea how lost he'd gotten, he needed a compass to find his way back. Or was she mistaken after all? Was he just teasing her with the big box?

But no. Inside the box had been a delicate gold necklace, with a pendant of two intertwined hearts joined by a radiant diamond. The gem was beautiful, but it was not round, nor did it fit on her finger; and hot tears had welled up in Maura's eyes with anger at herself and her expectations.

Before she had gotten a word out, he had gotten up, walked around her, lifted her blond hair, and put the necklace on her. Then he had kissed her on the neck. Apparently, he thought her tears were tears of joy. Or he hadn't noticed them at all. He had whispered in her ear, "You look gorgeous in that."

Michael had sat back down and ordered tiramisu, which had come five minutes later, with a lit candle and three Italians singing. Before long, the violinists had caught wind of the party too, joined in, and then everyone had belted out Tanti Auguri at the top of their lungs. But Maura had only thought: If only I had stayed at home.

Now they were on the Long Island Expressway heading toward Queens, and still, Michael didn't seem to register her silence. Outside, it began to drizzle, and lightning twitched in the sky. In the rear-view mirror, Maura saw how, after Lefrak City and Rego Park, the Manhattan skyline grew smaller and smaller until it almost disappeared from view. After two years, surely Michael had to know what she wanted, definitely not a necklace. To hell with him. She had enough stress with the bar exam; this emotional crisis was about as convenient as a hole in the head.

Just before her exit on the Clearview Expressway, Maura had decided for now to postpone the subject of their future together, or non-existent future together. After the exam! The last thing she needed was heartbreaking heartache. Always one stressor at a time. But hopefully, her icy silence was already giving the Lord a taste.

"It's not just the hearings," Michael continued, obviously clueless. "If I have to run to the judge every time because I need the birthday or the Social Security number, then this case is going to get lost in the mountain of approvals I have to get."

He turned onto Northern Boulevard. He had to stop at a traffic light. They seemed to be the last ones on the road at this late hour. At last, Michael interrupted himself. He looked at Maura warily. "What's the matter? You haven't said much since we left Carmine's, though. You're not still mad about earlier, are you? I explained to you that I was sorry, didn't I?" With both hands, he gripped the leather steering wheel as if to brace himself for the argument that hung in the air. His voice sounded cool and defensive. "You know how it is in the office. I can't just leave, that's just the way it is. The deal depended on me being there."

The silence in the small car was deafening. But before she could answer, he had changed the tone and the subject. Now he touched the heart pendant on her cleavage. "I had it made especially for you. Do you like it?" It was a sensual, enticing whisper.

No, no, no. She wouldn't go for that. 'Not tonight. Your Honor, I'll take the 5th because I would incriminate myself.

"My mind is elsewhere, that's all." Then she grabbed her neck and said blankly, "It's very pretty." Damn it, she wasn't going to do him the favor of looking offended and devastated because she hadn't gotten the engagement ring she'd expected, and so had all her friends and her entire family. Michael had to settle for that answer; let him chew on it for a few days. The light turned green, and they drove on in silence.

"I know what's going on. I know what you're thinking." He heaved a theatrical sigh, leaned back in the driver's seat, and slapped the steering wheel with the flat of his hand. "This is about your exam, isn't it? Jesus, Maura, you've been studying virtually nonstop for almost two months, and I've been understanding the whole time. But this one night I wanted to spend with you, just this one. I've had an extremely hard day, and then all through dinner there's this ... this discord between us. Will you relax for once! I would really appreciate that!" He sounded annoyed that he even had to have this discussion, and again Maura would have loved to smack him. "Trust someone who's been there, done that, and stop worrying your head off. You're one of the best in your semester, there's a fantastic position waiting for you, of course, you're going to pass."

"I'm sorry if my company at dinner didn't make your hard day, Michael, but I think your short-term memory is failing you. Do you remember last night? We were together then, too, and I wouldn't say I neglected you. May I also remind you that I didn't want to celebrate tonight at all? Which is what I told you, but you chose to ignore my wishes. And as for having a good time, I might have been in a better mood if you hadn't been two hours late." Wonderful. In addition to the guilty conscience, she had to digest for dessert, it was now beginning to pound in her head. She rubbed her temples.

Arriving in front of the entrance to her apartment building, he looked around for a parking spot.

"You can let me out here," she said sharply.

He looked at her, puzzled, and stopped in the second row from the entrance. "What, you don't want me to come in tonight?" He sounded surprised. Hurt. Good. They had something in common then.

"I'm dead tired, Michael, and this discussion isn't going anywhere. Besides, I couldn't go to the gym today, and I'm going tomorrow morning instead, before the repetition class."

Silence reigned again. Michael stared through the glass as she gathered her jacket and purse. "Maura, I'm really sorry about tonight. I really am. I wanted it to be special; it obviously fell through, and for that, I apologize. And I do understand that you're worried about the exam. I just shouldn't have snapped at you like that." His voice now sounded sincere and much softer. That he was suddenly playing the empathetic one upset Maura.

He leaned over to her and slid a finger up her neck over her cleavage. As he stroked her cheek, she rummaged in the pocket on her lap for the key, trying to ignore his touch. Now he buried his hand in her honey-blond hair, pulled her head toward him, and touched her ear with his lips. He whispered, "And about exercise, I could show you some exercises -"

Michael made her weak. Since that day in the copy room. And only rarely did she manage to resist him. Maura smelled the sweetness of his warm breath and felt his strong hands in the small of her back. Her head told her not to listen to this smooch, but her heart ... For some crazy reason, she loved him. But tonight ... tonight he wouldn't get her. Even the worst spinelessness had limits. Quickly, she opened the car door, got out, and took a deep breath. When she leaned in once more, her voice sounded controlled. "Not tonight, Michael. The temptation is great, but it's almost one in the morning. Marie's picking me up at 8:45 a.m, and I can't be late again." She slammed the passenger door.

Now he turned off the engine and got out as well. "All right, all right, I get it. Hell of a night," he said somberly and slammed his door shut as well. She gave him a dirty look, turned on her heel, and marched across the yard to her entrance. "Damn," he muttered and ran after her. Still, on the sidewalk, he caught up with her and grabbed her by the arm. "Wait, please wait. Look, I'm frustrated. Besides, I'm an insensitive ass. I admit it." In her eyes, he searched for a clue as to whether it was wise to continue. They still signaled caution, but at least she wasn't breaking away from him, and he took that as a good sign. "So, now it's out. I'm a creep, the evening was a disaster, and it's all my fault. Come on, please, forgive me," he whispered. "Let's not part ways like this." He put his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her against him. Her lips tasted sweet.

A moment later, she took a step back and hesitantly put a hand to her mouth. "Fine. Forgiven. But you're still not sleeping here tonight." It sounded chilly.

Tonight she needed to be alone. To think. Where was all this going anyway, except to bed? The streetlights cast dark shadows on the sidewalk. The wind had picked up, and the trees and bushes rustled and swayed. A dog barked in the distance, and the sky rumbled.

Michael looked up. "I think it's about to pour," he said absently, taking her limp hand. Silently, they walked side by side to the front door. At the threshold, he smiled and struck a light tone, "Damn. And I thought I was irresistible. Sensitivity is supposed to go down well with you women, after all. A guy who shows emotion isn't ashamed to cry." He laughed and hoped for a smile on her part, then kneaded her hand, kissed her gently on the cheek, and let his lips wander to her mouth. Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted. "You're so beautiful tonight, I'm sure I'll cry if I can't have you." Which didn't work on the first try ... His hands traveled down the small of her back to her skirt. She didn't move. "It's not too late, you can still change your mind," he murmured. "I just need to park quickly."

His touch was electrifying. But finally, she pushed him away and opened the door. Damn, she was going to make a mark tonight, and not even her libido would be able to dissuade her. "Good night, Michael. Let's talk on the phone tomorrow."

He made a face like he'd been punched in the pit of the stomach. Or somewhere else. "Happy anniversary," he said softly as she disappeared down the hall. Squeaking, the glass door closed behind her.

With the key in his hand, Michael walked slowly back to the car. Damn. He had really blown it today. All the way down the line. He waited until Maura appeared in the living room window and waved at him, the sign that all was well. She still looked pissed. Then she drew the curtain and was gone. Michael got into the BMW, and on the way to Manhattan, he thought about how he could reconcile Maura. Maybe he should send her flowers tomorrow. That was it. Long-stemmed red roses with an apology and an 'I love you'. That should pave his way back to her bed. As the thunderstorm approached and the thunder grew heavier, Michael turned onto the Clearview Expressway, leaving Bayside behind.

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The clown watched greedily through the branches as her legs swung out the passenger door of the BMW. They were long, and the tan probably came from some fancy tanning bed. She had on a short, tight, very tight black skirt and a pink silk top that showed a lot of her tits. Over one arm she wore the matching black jacket.

Pink was her favorite color, and so was his. He was pleased that she had met his taste with her outfit today. Pretty in pink! A pleasurable grin stretched across his face, and he had the feeling that this evening would turn out well after all. Things were beginning to take shape. He pressed his hand to his mouth to stifle a giggle.

Her long blonde mane fell down her back in delicate curls, and he could smell her sweet, sexy perfume as it hung heavy in the humid air. Her favorite perfume, he recognized it immediately, Chanel No. 5. He began to sweat, his back and the armpits of his T-shirt becoming damp.

Was she going to go on forever talking to this unsympathetic little jerk who was her boyfriend? She didn't even look happy about it. Blah, blah, blah. Didn't they know what time it was?

Time to go home. Time to go to bed. Impatiently, he drummed his fingers on the black nylon bag. The bag with the toys.

Now she slammed the car door. But suddenly the jerk also got out of the car and banged the door. Somewhere in the street, a dog started barking. The clown got shaky knees. If only no nosy neighbor woke up!

But no neighbor came out to join in, and the Jerk now caught up with her on the sidewalk.

He grabbed her by the arm and they exchanged words that the clown couldn't understand. Then he kissed her on the mouth. Hand in hand, they walked to the entrance of the building. Her high heels clattered by on the concrete walkway so close to him, all he had to do was reach out to her. Panic came over him again. Was her boyfriend coming in with her? The jerk had already had his fun with her last night. Tonight it was his turn.

At the front door they kissed again, then she entered the house alone. No luck tonight, huh, Jerk? The clown chuckled silently.

Hanging his head, the Jerk turned and slowly walked back to his car. Bravely, he waited until the lights came on in her apartment and she waved out the living room window, then he drove off into the night.

The clown smiled. How cute! The Jerk walked her to the door and kissed her goodnight. Sweet dreams! And then he even waits until she's safe and sound inside; not that the bogeyman is lurking in there. Really hilarious!

Five minutes later, the light came on in the bedroom, brightly illuminating the bushes. He retreated deeper into the thicket. The air conditioner above him started rattling, and condensation dripped through the evergreens onto his head. He watched her shadow bounce across the bushes as she walked around the bedroom, but then she closed the blinds and the light dimmed.

Finally, after it had gone completely dark, he waited twenty minutes completely motionless. The thunder was getting louder now. It had begun to drizzle. Lightly at first, but the rain would get heavier. The gusts of wind were becoming more violent; the bushes were swaying back and forth, in the light of the street lamps it looked as if they were dancing a strange dance. The thunderstorm was almost right on top of them now. She had arrived home just in time.

He picked up the bag of toys and slid along the wall until he was just below her living room, under the window with the broken latch. At exactly 1:32 a.m., the clown pulled the mask over his face. He wiped his hands on his now very tight jeans. Then he silently opened the window and slipped out of the rain into the dark room.