The two detectives rode in silence for the better part of the thirty-minute drive. No matter how hard Nikki tried to block out Maggie's voice, which she kept hearing in her head in an endless loop, she couldn't.

Unlike the last case, this woman's injuries were inflicted over a more extended time, the redhead had said after they found Diana Martiny's body. I would date the oldest wounds to three to four days.

Three to four days of indescribable agony.

The cabin was off the road at the end of a dark-looking gravel road that led between closely spaced trees into the forest.

The building was made of solid logs, had two floors, and even a basement, as far as one could tell from the outside. A staircase led to a spacious wooden veranda from which the carved, solid front door was accessible. Nikki had imagined a cabin differently.

"Nice," was Mike's only comment.

She climbed the stairs and let her eyes wander over the long wooden table and the massive chairs on the veranda. Everything was covered with a layer of leaves, small pieces of branches, and plant parts, just as they could be found on the forest floor. She turned the doorknob, but as expected, the door was locked.

Next to her, Mike put his hands on the window in a funnel shape and pressed his face against it. Nikki did the same at the second window.

A dark couch and two armchairs formed the center of the living room they were looking into. A bookcase and a glass cabinet stood against the log walls. The fireplace in the corner provides cozy warmth in the winter. At the back, a narrow wooden staircase led upstairs. There was no indication that the cabin had been used recently.

"I'll check the other side." She descended the stairs and went around the house. At the back was an area the size of a tennis court, which had once been a lawn but now resembled a forest clearing interspersed with wildflowers.

About halfway up the back wall of the house, a wooden staircase led to the back entrance, and next to it, a few stone steps led down to the cellar door.

Without hesitation, Nikki descended. This door seemed less solid than the front entrance but was also locked. Without thinking, Nikki gathered momentum and dropped herself with her entire body weight against the wood. The pain that went through her shoulder and upper body in the next moment gave way to surprise when the door actually flew open, and she stumbled into the cellar.

She quickly caught herself, rubbed her aching shoulder, and looked around the room. To her left was a shelf with all kinds of tools lying around on it. Most of them were rusted. On the other side was an old exercise bike and a lawn mower covered in cobwebs. Nikki crossed the room and opened the door on the opposite side. It led into a hallway with two more doors leading off it. On the far left, the lowest steps of a staircase could be seen. After quickly looking into the other two basement rooms and discovering nothing except the heating and a utility room, she went to the stairs. Suddenly, she heard Mike's voice behind her.

"Nikki, damn it, have you lost your mind?"

Nikki didn't let herself be irritated. Without turning around, she said, "I didn't think the door would open so easily. Now I can take a quick look around."

At the top of the stairs, she came to a small hallway with doors leading to a kitchen, a bathroom, and the living room the detectives had seen from the outside.

Mike reached his wife as she was looking around the living room. "Cut the crap," he hissed. "We're leaving here right now. We're cops, not fucking burglars."

Nikki turned to him. "Don't get so worked up. It doesn't matter now, anyway. We're in the cabin, so it would be stupid not to at least look around. You can run away if you're scared, but I want to know if anything here can give us a clue. Maybe the women were really here." She looked at the stairs. "Maybe up there? You don't even want to look; you just want to leave?" She gritted her teeth, and her expression darkened. "Then just piss off and don't stand in my way." She stomped past her husband to the stairs.

The upper level consisted of only one large room with sloping ceilings almost reaching the floor. When Nikki reached the last step and first looked into the room, she froze.

Against the opposite wall, under a window, stood a queen-size bed with a steel frame as a headboard. Handcuffs were attached to this frame at various points. On a shelf next to it were leather whips, latex masks, vibrators in all sizes and shapes, and other devices whose purpose Nikki could only guess at. Chains hung from the wooden beams on the ceiling, with handcuffs attached to their ends; next to them was a tangle of leather straps and loops and a love swing.

"Holy fuck," Mike gasped, who had followed his wife and was now standing next to her.

"Didn't I tell you?" Nikki didn't quite know how to classify what the two of them had found, but at least she felt vindicated in her approach. "I think we've found Harry Upton's love nest."

She entered the room cautiously as if she could damage something or erase traces by taking the wrong step. Mike followed her, careful not to touch any chains or leather straps hanging from the ceiling.

Nikki stopped before the shelf and looked closely at the various utensils. She didn't turn around until Mike cleared his throat behind her.

"I think you're wrong."

Nikki raised her eyebrows. 'What?'

"You think this is Harry Upton's love nest. I think you're wrong."

Nikki didn't understand. "Why?"

Mike pointed to the tall cupboard, the doors he had opened.

She only recognized a large flat screen, and she only saw what her husband meant when she approached. On shelves inside the cupboard were several DVD cases lying on the shelves. They were apparently pornographic films, and something else was just as clearly recognizable, at least on the covers that were lying open. Nikki took out some of the movies lined up next to each other, looked at the cover, and reached for the next one. They all had one thing in common: they were all lesbian porn.

"Oh fuck," she exclaimed.

"Well," Mike said. 'It seems that it's not Harry Upton who's playing here, but his wife.' He turned to Nikki and looked at her thoughtfully. 'You've clearly gone too far.'

Nikki gestured around the room. 'And what about this?'

Mike looked around. 'What about it? Christine Boutroux is apparently living out her sexual fantasies here. It's a matter of taste, but as you should know better than anyone, it's not against the law. And above all, it's no reason to break into a house. You're losing control of yourself, Veronica. I've never seen you like this."

Nikki didn't know what to say in response. She could think of many answers, but each would have been nothing more than a defiant reaction that her husband would have immediately picked apart. That made her even more angry. Not only was she unable to find Jennifer, but she was also unable to defend her behavior towards Mike. So she looked around the bedroom again. "This may all be Upton's wife's, but what's to stop him from using it?"

Mike put a hand on her shoulder. "We're getting out of here now. Come on."

The gesture was consoling, but Nikki would have liked to have angrily slapped his hand away. "I want a search for Jennifer Mcmillan to be started at last," she said instead.

Mike took a deep breath and nodded slowly. "We'll see. Now let's get out of here."

xxx

They met Thune at the bullpen. "Nick asked about you five minutes ago."

Nikki raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips. She was surprised that her uncle was at the BPD on Sunday, which indicated how much pressure he was under.

"Well then --" Mike turned around and went to the captain's office, followed by Nikki.

Nick sat behind his desk and looked thoughtfully at the two detectives as they entered his office, which Jane and Elizabeth had previously occupied. He waited until they had sat down before it, then leaned back in his chair. "So, where are we? And what the hell happened at that fundraiser last night? I already had a call from Micaela this morning, who had a long phone call with Ashlyn's law firm."

Nikki looked at Mike in amazement. Her sister hadn't said anything about that this morning.

"Ashlyn says you didn't give Harry Upton a chance to contact her as his legal counsel last night."

"That's nonsense," Mike replied. He then briefly described to Nick what had happened since the previous day. His report ended with explaining what they discovered in Christine Boutroux' cabin.

Nick pursed his lips and looked at the two detectives, folding his hands. "And how exactly did you get in there?"

Mike pursed his lips and cleared his throat.

"I broke open the cellar door," Nikki explained, and before her uncle could react, she added, "We have to put out an APB on Jennifer Mcmillan immediately. She disappeared last night, and we have to assume that she could be the next victim of this maniac."

Nick licked his lips again and looked at Mike in amazement before returning to Nikki. "Wait a minute, one thing at a time. You broke down the door of a private cabin for no reason? Without a court order? And then, of all things, the cabin of Marius Boutroux? Have you lost your mind?"

"It wasn't for no reason. We thought... We might find a clue there that could help us."

Nick let out a hissing breath and turned to Mike. 'What exactly is Jennifer Mcmillan's role in this case?'

"She's an actress, like Miriam Labo and --," Nikki explained, but Nick stopped her with a raised hand.

He looked at her with a stern expression. "Thank you, Detective O'Laighin. You can leave. I'll sort out the rest with Detective Fisher."

Nikki wanted to add something but controlled herself, got up hesitantly and wordlessly, and left her uncle's office.

It took Mike about twenty minutes to come back. During that time, Nikki sat at her desk and stared at her laptop monitor, on which nothing could be seen but the Google search mask.

She jumped when Mike put his hand on her shoulder. "Come with me, Nikki."

Nikki looked up at her husband, whose expression did not bode well. She got up and followed him into the empty conference room.

Mike took a deep breath and got straight to the point. "We're going to put out an APB on Jennifer, but Nick has taken you off the case."

Nikki hoped she hadn't heard that right, blinked several times, and then laughed briefly. This couldn't be true; it wasn't allowed to be true. "What?"

Mike pursed his lips and shrugged. "When he heard that you and Jennifer had become close friends..."

"Why did you tell him that?" she snapped at her husband.

He raised his hands. "Jesus, what should I have done? He asked me directly about the nature of your relationship with Jennifer. I can't lie to Nick. And then there's this thing with the cabin ... Nikki, I think it's better this way. Go home, find something to take your mind off it, and spend time with your parents. You know I'll keep you posted."

"Are you out of your mind? I'm not going to sit at home and solve fucking crossword puzzles while Jennifer is in the hands of that maniac. You can forget it, Mike." Nikki had raised her voice so much that, despite the closed door, the other detectives on the task force were looking towards the conference room. "I'm going to Nick now."

She turned to leave, but Mike held her arm and hissed, "Damn it, you're not going to do that. I just barely managed to stop Nick from starting disciplinary proceedings against you. You know very well that he's not kidding about certain regulations. Now be reasonable and go home."

With a jerk, she freed herself from Mike's grip; she was so angry that she would have liked to have pounced on him. Instead, she turned away brusquely and returned to the bullpen to gather a few things together under the astonished looks of the other detectives.

Nikki left the BPD five minutes later without saying another word to Mike. A mixture of anger, disappointment, and concern for her friend was simmering inside her, and she almost couldn't breathe. She walked quickly to her car, and her composure was gone when she slammed the door behind her. Like a woman possessed, she hammered her hands on the steering wheel, barely feeling the pain in them. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

At some point, she clung to the steering wheel and squeezed her eyes shut. From one second to the next, all strength had left her body. She felt as if she had just run a marathon.

As if guided by an invisible hand, Nikki started the car, steered it out of the BPD underground car park and onto the street, and headed for Jennifer's apartment. Twenty minutes later, she parked right in front of the apartment complex, walked to the front door, rang the bell again and again, and finally gave up in resignation.

She made her way to her house as if in a trance. She couldn't even remember her route when she unlocked the front door.

She collapsed on the couch and felt helpless and despair. After a while, she got up, went to the modern sideboard, and took out a bottle of Hendrick's and a glass. Then, she began to drink against the inner pain and disappointment.

xxx

I'm excited.

Because I know that I am finally on the right path, even though it was a painful step to part with you, it was necessary and right. I know that, at least since I met her. And I know you would understand. I couldn't focus on her as much as I needed to if I knew you were still around. Here, close to me.

For a long time, I just sat there and looked at her. Just as I looked at you for hours and imagined what it would be like when our bodies were very close. When I let myself go more and more, my actions would be determined more and more by the slowly increasing ecstasy.

It's almost unfair to her that I'm thinking of you even now that I'm with her. And yet, it's different from the others before when you were still physically present. I'm not as inhibited anymore.

I go to her. Her eyes widened, and she said something I couldn't understand. The tape...

Now she sees what I brought her. She tugs at the straps, and her voice gets louder. Tears well up in the corners of her eyes. She squeezes her spread legs together as if the straps weren't keeping them apart.

I can't help but smile. How ignorant she still is—just like you were at the beginning. She is afraid because she has not yet had this experience, because she does not yet know how close pain and pleasure lie together—so close that one cannot truly exist without the other.

I gently stroke the blade along the inside of her thighs. Her legs vibrate with pleasure, and her whole body vibrates; I can see it clearly.

Now, the tip reaches the spot between her legs. I stab, short and not deep. It is more of a hint of what we will still experience together. Her body rears up in pleasure, and she bellows her greed at the tape, but I withdraw the blade. No, there is no more. Not yet. The sweet agony of waiting. Of anticipation. I share it with her. And I know that it will work with her. Soon.

Very soon.