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Officer Kincaid. He…passed out.”
    â€œPassed out?”
    â€œYeah, he’s new on the job. Who are you?”
    â€œFrank Bennett. This is Samantha Ranvali. We’re investigators with the Palici Corporation.”
    â€œDetective Snair.” He shakes Frank’s hand indifferently. “I was under the impression that you’d be alone.” While waiting for an answer, he looks over Samantha’s body with an obvious mixture of disapproval and desire. He notices the rum-colored skin of her neck, and the silver necklace dangling between her small breasts.
    â€œWell, I’m not. May we?” Frank glances at the empty car.
    â€œBy all means.”
    â€œWhat about the body? On the phone, you said there was a body.”
    â€œYeah, underneath.” Snair coughs. His eyes never lift to Samantha’s face.
    A thick rope runs through the open windows of the backseat and wraps underneath the car. Samantha steps ahead of Frank and squats, placing both hands on the damp asphalt. She looks under the car between the tires. A man’s body hangs there, unevenly, like a discarded marionette. His arms have been stretched out at ninety-degree angles from his torso—each wrist tied to part of the car’s frame. Another rope dangles from the front end, where his feet have been bound together and fastened to part of the engine. His hands are bluish from the lack of circulation, and his forehead appears burrowed in the asphalt. The dark shadow of the car and lack of sunlight distort his face. Only his bright-white jawbone is clearly visible. She turns away abruptly, wondering if she is ready for this. Then she notices a small, oddly shaped object by the rear tire. Putting her left knee on the ground for balance, she looks closer.
    It takes her only a few moments to recognize it. She stands abruptly.
    â€œSam,” Frank says tentatively, “what is it?”
    â€œA tooth,” she whispers.
    A trail leads from the car to the parking lot entrance—not from leaky oil or transmission fluid, but from the body being dragged against the cement. She closes her eyes and breathes deeply, hoping the cold air will keep her from being nauseated.
    She should have said no.

5
Endymion’s Circle
    O fficer Kincaid wakes up shortly after Samantha looks under the car. She sees the relief in his face when Detective Snair tells him to escort her from the crime scene. Once inside the squad car, he sucks deeply from his inhaler, holding himself inflated so the medicine can work. Hssst . His bulging stomach almost touches the steering wheel, and he tries adjusting the seat.
    â€œIt sticks—” He laughs nervously, and his breathing becomes strained as if he were lifting a heavy object. The seat rocks forward, then back. If in the end it has moved at all, Samantha can’t tell.
    â€œDamn it!” He looks over sheepishly and starts the car.
    She senses his desire to talk, to share in the fact that neither or them did very well back there. Sure, she didn’t pass out, but after seeing the body, she couldn’t stay. Frank knew immediately that she had seen enough. He asked Detective Snair to have someone take her to an appointment across town. Samantha didn’t object.
    From the squad car, she can see Frank standing by the Sunfire, staring at the seats, the rope, everything but the body underneath.
    As they drive away, she realizes that Officer Kincaid is talking, but she hasn’t heard a word. “I’m sorry. What were you saying?”
    He looks hurt, but not enough to stay quiet. “It looks like some kind of ritual.”
    â€œRitual?”
    He shifts in his seat. “Yeah, being tied up like that.” He reaches for his inhaler. “It seems like a lot of trouble to go to—just to kill someone.”
    Hssst.
    Samantha nods. “It does.”
    Â 
    The only sign for the sleep clinic is a small brass plaque by the door. Otherwise the building looks