She pushed away from the table. “That’s enough for me. It can’t get any better than that.”

The little man sitting beside her grabbed her hand. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

She yanked her hand away. Something about the man’s touch made her skin crawl. “I’m afraid I am. B-B-Best of luck to you.”

She cashed out, then quickly made her way to the elevators that descended to the parking garage. She didn’t want to risk being stopped by pit bosses or mashers or thieves. All she wanted was to get back to Warren and start their life together. This development wouldn’t advance her plan to be the youngest woman ever to win the Fields Medal, but she didn’t mind. She liked the idea of settling down, being a married woman. And she loved the thought of being a mother. Annabel would take a different approach than her own mother had done. Better. She would turn her heartache into empowerment.

The elevator doors dinged and she stepped out into the cold, barren garage. It was quiet and dark, shadowy. This was one area where the haunted house motif did not need to extend, she thought.

Her pace quickened; she heard each step echo in her wake. Chill bumps rose on her arms and legs. She moved even faster.

That was when she heard the footsteps.

No one had come off that elevator since she arrived, she was certain of that. Nonetheless, someone else was here. She fumbled in her purse for her keys. She was practically running now, her heart thumping in her chest. She was alone, dressed provocatively, carrying a big wad of cash-an obvious target, an easy one. Please, God, just get me back to the rental…

She rounded a lane of cars and sprinted. Just a few more steps and she’d be safe. Just a few more steps…

He jumped right in front of her. She screamed.

It was the man from the blackjack table. The little man with the mustache.

“Where you going in such a hurry?” he said, his vulpine eyes dancing.

“Leave me alone.” She held her purse up, brandishing it like a club.

He was quick, smooth, as if he’d had martial arts training. He knocked the purse out of her hand, then grabbed her by the hair. The wig came off in his hands.

“Not a natural blonde? That’s disappointing.” He tossed the wig away and grabbed her brunette locks, jerking her head back. He pressed his face close to hers. “If you take that pretty dress off yourself, I won’t have to rip it.”

“Please leave me alone. Please.”

“After, bitch.”

“You don’t want me. I-I’m pregnant.”

“Sure you are,” he said, flinging her back against the hood of the car. He grabbed the front of her dress with both hands, one over each breast. “Don’t forget that I gave you a chance to do this the easy way.”

“Freeze!”

Her assailant’s head jerked around.

It was the security guard from the casino. He stood about ten feet away and had his gun pointed right at them. “Good thing I kept my eye on you. I thought you were a thief, not a rapist.” He stepped closer, keeping his weapon level. “Now let go of the little lady.”

Instead the assailant thrust Annabel forward, locking his arm around her neck. “She’s my shield, man.”

The guard continued his steady approach. “Do you think I can’t hit you without hitting her? Think again.” He adjusted the aim of the gun, obviously training it on the man’s head. “She won’t even get dirty.”

“All right, all right!” The man released Annabel and pressed himself face-first against the car. “I give up.”

“Very wise.” Lowering his gun, he grabbed the assailant’s right arm and swung it behind his back.

In a sudden flurry of movement, the man whipped around and knocked the gun out of the guard’s hand. He pushed the guard backward and tore off running.

“Stop!”

He bolted down the parking garage, back toward the stairs.

The guard scrambled under a car to retrieve his gun, then gave chase. Before he was halfway across the expanse, the man had disappeared through a stairwell door.

“Damnation!” The guard pulled out his radio and called for help. Then he returned to Annabel’s side. “Are you okay, ma’am?”

“I’ll live,” she said, steadying herself with one hand on the car roof. “You think they’ll catch him?”

“The way he was running? He’ll be at the Luxor before the men upstairs are on their feet. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, I’m just glad you showed up when you did. You’re my hero.”

His eyes twinkled. “Told you that man was dangerous, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you did.”

“You’ll need to fill out a report.”

“Ohhh…”

“You can do it tomorrow if you’d rather.”

“I would, thanks.” She smiled. He was kind of cute, really.

“Got your purse?”

“Sure.” She bent down and picked it up. “Well, thanks again.”

“Of course.” He started to go, then stopped. “One other thing.”

“Yes?”

“That dress you’re wearing? I don’t like it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Look at yourself in the mirror. Your breasts are on display, as if you were a southern plantation slave girl.”

“I-I didn’t realize-”

“Your teats are for nursing children, my dear. Not for attracting men.” His voice seemed to slow, to acquire a more pronounced drawl. “Not for producing unholy thoughts. Luring men to their doom. Throwing your sex at them like some kind of harlot.”

She turned toward her car. “I-I think I should go.”

“Too late for that, petunia.” One hand on the back of her head, he jabbed a syringe into her neck. Her legs wobbled.

He scooped her up into his arms and carried her to his pickup. “I am sorry about the pain, my dear. But you won’t feel it for long.”

Annabel was dazed, limp. “What… what are you going to do…?”

“I’m going to help you. Help you be something better than you are. Something wonderful.”

4

Chin up, Susan, chest out, I told myself as I made a beeline toward the yellow crime scene tape. Walk like you know exactly what you’re doing and you’re in a hurry to get there. That’s how I’ve managed to bluster my way past guards, thugs, reluctant witnesses, and on one occasion, Secret Service agents.

I nodded at the patrolman posted by the entrance to the ballroom-and kept on walking. I could read his confusion, his uncertainty. No doubt he’d heard that I’d been relieved of duty and didn’t know what I was doing here. But he didn’t stop me. There was also a hotel security guard standing by the door, a little guy with a tangled mess of black hair and a big bad gun. He was watching me carefully, too. But I kept on walking.

This ballroom was something else. I had been out to this hotel before, not for work but for pleasure. I liked the joint. It appealed to my sense of the macabre. Of all the themed casinos that had sprung up over the last couple of decades, this was my favorite. It was built back in the early Nineties, when Steve Wynn and some of the other high rollers were doing their Vegas Is for Families initiative. Disneyland of the Desert, that’s what they wanted. That’s when the new improved Strip got Treasure Island (pirates) and the Excalibur (Camelot) and the Luxor (fantasy Egypt). Then we got the geographical reconstructions-the New York, complete with a fake Statue of Liberty, and the Paris, complete with a fake Eiffel Tower (like the original, only better-lit). By the end of the decade, the pendulum had swung back again and Vegas was refocusing on its old reliable: vice. This has always been a city of addictions-booze, drugs, sex, money, risk-and now they were back in fashion. Most of the new resorts focused on providing premier shopping or replicating high-dollar vacation spots. Truth was, most of the chumps who came to Vegas had never been to Europe and would be bored stiff at the real Bellagio. But they loved the chance to pretend to be cosmopolitan sophisticates-with girlie shows and free drinks, of course.

The Transylvania had come in about the same time as Treasure Island and the Excalibur. With a choice spot just up the Strip from Circus Circus (now there was an interesting concept-Gambling for the Whole Family!), it had done a brisk business, specializing in those with a taste for the outré. Most of the joint was more tongue-in-cheek than terrifying. Scary more in the sense of, say, Disneyland’s Haunted Mansion than, say, a Jason movie. That showed in the galleries, too. That was another hot Vegas trend-everyone wanted a exhibition. The Bellagio had originally sported Steve Wynn’s art collection. The Venetian had a Guggenheim museum. Mandalay Bay had art treasures collected from around the world. And the Transylvania had a series of ballroom galleries exhibiting re-creations of various fright classics such as Frankenstein, Dracula, and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.