Taylor fought back a wave of nausea. Her thoughts collided rapidly, a centrifuge of denial. There was no way the woman on the tape was her. But of course it was. As she looked closer, she recognized her sheets, her lamp and the windowsill. This was her bedroom in the cabin. And David Martin was alive. The video had to be at least two years old.

Oh, Jesus. She forced herself to watch it again, then again. All three times, the video ended with a clear shot of Taylor’s face and naked breasts as she passed the camera. Taylor knew the path she was taking, she was on her way to the bathroom. The first thing she’d done every time she finished having sex with David Martin was take a shower. Something deep inside her was never happy with their encounters, and she always wanted to wash him out of her as quickly as possible after their interludes.

She took a huge, gasping lungful of air, realizing she’d been holding her breath so long she was starting to see spots. Lincoln and Marcus had seen this. Her team had seen this. Dear God. Where had this tape come from? And how in the world did it get posted to the Internet?

She stood abruptly, knocking the laptop off her lap. It clattered onto the floor. She whirled around and went to the door. She opened it and gestured to Lincoln and Marcus, who were sitting, waiting. They came in the room silently, Lincoln shutting the door on them.

Taylor was trying to keep her cool.

“Sit down, both of you.” They sat.

“Where did you find this?”

Marcus raised his head. He looked utterly miserable. “I was looking for the man you had the run-in with last night. I’d been trolling most of the afternoon, plugging in various names, cross-referencing his with Tawny. There was a site that had a match, deep down into the Google file directory. I clicked on the link, tried everything, but I couldn’t get to it. So I called Lincoln. He guided me through. We saw rather quickly that it was a partnership site, one that the members have to join to access the videos.”

“It’s sophisticated as hell, Taylor. I had a bitch of a time hacking it. But I got in. And we pulled up the link that matched.” Lincoln looked at her. “You should sit down.”

“What?” she asked.

Lincoln swallowed and Marcus looked like he was about to burst into tears.

Taylor gritted her teeth. “What, God damn it?”

Lincoln looked her in the eye. “There are eight more videos like this one. All with you and David Martin. People pay to download them, one hundred dollars a pop. The site is called Selectnet.com.”

Taylor felt the world shift the tiniest bit on its axis. Her chest closed and she couldn’t breathe. She shut her eyes and willed her body back into action. She would be damned if she was going to faint in front of them. It took a moment, but the vertigo stopped, and she opened her eyes. They were both watching her carefully, as if readying themselves for a defense in case she whipped out her weapon and started firing at them. It was a thought. Jesus. She carefully laid both hands on the desk, well within their sight. They both relaxed fractionally.

“Who else knows?” Flat, girl. Stay emotionless. You are in control.

Lincoln looked at Marcus, then back at her. “Just us. We thought about disabling the videos, but then they’d know we were in their system. They might shut the whole thing down and disappear. There are…other items that we may need to look at in addition to yours. We figured it would be better to wait, show you, and create a plan of attack. We assumed that you didn’t know that you were being taped.” He said it in such a matter-of-fact manner that Taylor fought the urge to come around the desk and hug him. No matter what, they’d believed in her.

“No, I didn’t. I…” Oh shit. She heard the crack in her voice. Do. Not. Cry. You are not allowed to cry. Fury and frustration clogged her mind. She wanted to scream. She wanted to hit someone. She wanted David Martin to come back to life so she could strangle him. She cleared her throat, tried again.

“David Martin is the last person in the world that I would want to keep for posterity.” She tried to smile, knew her lips were crooked. Holy shit. What were they going to do? Something like this could ruin her. Think, girl. Her mind felt like sludge, all she could see was the image of her getting off the bed and David Martin’s smug, dead features as he watched her walk away.

“We’ve been running backtraces all afternoon. I think I found the name of the company that manages the site, though they are buried, and I mean deep. It’s a firm out in California.”

Her head was clearing a bit. “Okay. What was the connection to Tony Gorman?”

Marcus took over. “He’s a member of this online club. From what we can tell, the members pay a fee, go through a background check, and are then voted into the membership. Once they are in, they can upload, download, watch anything. There are five levels of membership, each with its corresponding site archives. The more money you put in, the deeper you can go. These videos were in the third level of membership. We looked at some of the others. The first two tiers are all homemade, poor quality kind of stuff. The third was better quality, but still not fantastic. We assume that the higher up the chain you go, the better the footage.”

“My God.” Taylor sat back in the chair. “Are all these videos labeled Taylor Jackson?”

“Well, there’s the good news. They don’t have your real name. They call you Tawny from Nashville. So that’s where Gorman saw you, no question about that.”

“Have you found the son of a bitch?”

Marcus finally smiled. “Yep.”

Taylor’s cell phone rang, making her jump. She glanced at the caller ID, saw it was Corinne Wolff’s therapist. She held up a wait a minute finger to Marcus and answered. A crisp British accent greeted her.

“This is Ellen Ricard. I understand you’re looking for information on Corinne Wolff.”

The no-nonsense greeting wrestled Taylor’s emotions back into place. “Yes, I am. Would you be willing to talk with me?”

“Yes. I can’t until day after tomorrow. I can see you in my office at eight o’clock Friday morning.”

Taylor glanced at her watch. “Are you sure we can’t do it tonight?”

“Yes, Lieutenant, I’m sure. I have a speaking engagement this evening, then a late flight out of town. I’ll return too late tomorrow evening to meet. I will see you Friday morning. You know where to find me, I presume?”

“I do. Thank you. I’ll try not to take too much of your time.”

“Until then, Lieutenant,” and she was gone.

Taylor hung up the phone. “Leads on the Wolff case. I need to bring you both up to speed.” She ran her palm against her forehead, making decisions. “Okay. First things first. Where is Tony Gorman?”

“Antioch. He lives on Blue Hole Road. We can go pick him up, if you’d like.”

“I think the sooner we get tapped into this underworld, the better we’re going to be. I appreciate you guys trying to insulate me. I don’t know if that’s going to work for long. We have to find out how these tapes were made, who uploaded them, everything. I don’t know if we can keep it quiet, it’s going to take man hours. I will cover you as long as I can without Price catching on.” The nausea returned with a vengeance. “Has Fitz seen this?”

“No,” they both answered in unison.

“Thank God for that. I don’t know if I could ever look him in the eye again. You two are bad enough.” She stood and turned her back on them. How in the world was she going to work this?

“We didn’t watch them, Taylor. As soon as we realized it was you, we stopped, and started digging. I promise.” Lincoln was reaching for her now, his arms around her in a massive bear hug. The urge to weep was overwhelming, but she bit the emotions back again. Crying wasn’t going to accomplish anything. She hugged him back.

“Well, it wasn’t much of a show, if I remember correctly. You guys are wonderful.” She broke away from Lincoln and squeezed Marcus on the shoulder. “Go get that fat fuck and let’s have a little discussion with him.”