*He's off in his own little world,* Mina thought. "What kind was it?"

He came back from wherever he was. "What?"

"Your first butterfly."

"It was a hider."

"A hider?"

"Yes. They survive by protective coloring, mimicking their surroundings, hiding in plain sight."

"Oh, camoflauge." She scanned the wall of framed displays. "I don't see any of them here."

"I don't kill the hiders. I collect them alive. Would you like to see my pets?"

*He keeps butterflies as pets? Eccentric, but interesting.* "Yes, I'd like that."

"This way." He ushered her over to the side door. "It's time to turn off the ulta-violet lights, anyway." There were six lidded aquariums arranged about the room. "I use them since the hiders can't get true sunlight down here, and they have to be turned off at dusk, so that my pets will have a natural sleep cycle."

As they entered the room and moved toward the first tank Mina said, "It sounds like you're very conscientious."

"I always take excellent care of my hiders. Let's see if any of my beauties are out." He bent down to peer through the glass. "Ah, yes! Look, Miss O'Connell. There, on that twig. It's exactly the same shade as your skirt."

Mina studied the butterfly. "So it is." The triangular wings were ash gray. "And there's a pretty little white one."

"That one spends most of its time in flowerbeds. It favors daisies, baby's breath... other pale flowers."

"So it can blend in."

"Precisely. Come over here. There's a particular one I want you to see." He led her to a side aquarium. "Look there, in the corner." It was speckled with different shades of brown, beige, and cream. "Now, tell me, doesn't that look exactly like the pattern of that dress you wore last week?"

"I'll be darned. It really does." She had an oatmeal tweed dress that almost perfectly matched the insect's coloration. Mina spent another few minutes roaming around the room, peering into the glass boxes, tapping the sides to encourage the insects to move. Stephen stood back and watched his new pet getting acquainted with his old ones.

At last he switched off the individual UV lamps, and they left the room, Stephen shutting off the overhead light. "The other doors just lead to a bathroom and my private meditation room--nothing interesting there. Now, I'll show you the library. I have my study there, and that's where you'll be working."

He led her upstairs and toward the back of the house. There were several turns. *God, this place is like a maze. He grew up here? I'm surprised they didn't have to send out search parties on a regular basis.*

It was a beautiful room--not quite big enough to lose the feel of intimacy, but she couldn't quite call it cozy. Aside from a framed diploma there were no personal mementos, no family photographs or souviniers. Each wall was lined with floor to ceiling shelves, each shelf was crammed with books. There were some paperbacks, but most of them were hardbound, and some were quite old. *Bet there are a few first editions lurking around here. Ooo, I'm going to spend a little of my unsupervised time browsing here!*

Stephen indicated the desk, and the computer. "It has all the standard programs. I set up a profile for you under 'Mina'. Your password is pappillon."

"French for butterfly, hm? I've never watched that movie--I don't like prison stories."

"They're an acquired taste, I suppose."

"What materials will I be working with?"

"These two shelves." Stephen ran his finger down a line of thick greenbacked books. "Each one represents a year."

Mina was stunned. "There must be over fifty of them."

"There are seventy-three, beginning in 1911. He began keeping a daily journal when he was fifteen and made his last entry the day before his death at eighty-eight. Of course the last couple of weeks were dictated to a secretary."

"Wow. That's... massive."

"Yes, it's going to be quite a project. Would you mind waiting for the rest of the tour? I'm familiar with about how long it takes Miss Fulham to complete a soufflee, and it should be done any minute now. She'll be terribly offended if it gets cold."

"Sure, no hurry."

She was grateful that he led the way back to the front of the house, certain that she would have gotten lost somewhere along the way if left on her own. *I need to get a roll at dinner and leave a trail of breadcrumbs.*

The dining room table could have easily a dozen people. Mina had an almost hysterical flash of countless cartoons and comedies showing a mile long table with one lonely diner at each end, requiring a hike if you wanted to pass the salt, before she saw that there were three places set at one end. *Oh, geez, and those aren't Sears House Wares dishes, either. That has to be hand painted china, and are those three dishes piled up at each place? Good gosh, Miss Manners. How many...? Oh, thank God, a normal set of silverware. Mm, except that there are two spoons. Okay, the one with the round bowl will be for the stew, and the long handled, narrow bowled one must be for either tea or dessert...*

"Miss O'Connell, you look like you're thinking ninety miles a minute." Stephen pulled out a chair to the right of the head of the table.

Remembering how he'd held her chair in the restaurant, she didn't hesitate, but took her seat. "Just admiring the table." She nodded at a low, cut glass bowl that was overflowing with an attractive arrangement of multicolored chrysanthemums. "The centerpiece is beautiful."

"I'm glad you like it. I have a nice hot house, and it's excellent for strawberries as well as flowers. I have a crop that will be ripe in a week or so, and I want you to try them. Miss Fulham does a wonderful strawberry shortcake."

Dominic came in from the hall, bearing a large china soup tureen. He placed it before Stephen's place, saying, "Yeah, and it's realL biscuit shortcake with natural whipped cream, not those foam rubber sponge cake cups with that oil-based fake fluff. The rolls are on the way, and Fulham says the soufflee will be done in about twenty minutes."

As Dominic sat, Stephen said, "Translation: don't lollygag over the bourgegnon. Dominic, would you please take care of the wine while I serve? I have a nice red breathing in the kitchen. Mina, if you'll hand me your soup plate?"

As Stephen ladled the stew into the plate, Miss Fulham entered, bearing a basket, covered by a clean cloth. She unfolded the cloth, revealing a pile of golden rolls and offered them to Mina, saying, "I suppose Dominic told you that I'd set a time limit? Ignore him. He gets above himself."

"Thank you." Mina took a roll and settled it on the little saucer by her plate. *Reading all those 1950 cookbooks is finally coming in handy. From the table setting diagrams I know that's a bread plate.* "Everything smells delicious. Let me thank you in advance. I can't remember the last time anyone cooked for me."

"Well, you're welcome, Miss. I'm really looking forward to cooking for you. Oh, Mister Baxter and Dominic appreciate my cooking, but they've eaten it for so long that it's difficult to surprise them anymore."

Mina nodded, thinking, *Lord, she's talking like I'm going to be boarding here.*

Stephen placed the plate of stew before her, saying, "Please go ahead, Miss O'Connell. Don't stand on ceremony."

*Easy for you to say. This may be casual dining to you, but it might as well be a State Dinner to me.* She took a bite of stew, and almost closed her eyes in appreciation. *Beats the hell out of Dinty Moore.*

Dominic came back from the kitchen carrying a small tray. It held an elegant bottle of wine, surrounded by three filled glasses. Dominic set the tray on the sideboard, then placed a glass before each place. Mina eyed her glass. Like the center piece, the crystal was beautiful. The wine was a deep, rich red, almost maroon. *It almost makes me wish I liked wine. I can pretend to drink some, to be polite. Luckily they have a water glass, too.*

Stephen finished serving, and he and Dominic were seated. Mina was almost beginning to enjoy herself. *Treat it like a game,* she thought. *Maybe like a play.* She even ate her stew in the Emily Post approved manner--dipping her spoon away, instead of towards herself.

"So, Mina," Dominic started. "You've never been married, or anything?"

She took a moment to break her roll *One does not simply bite into one's bread. The approved manner is to break it, thus the term 'breaking bread*, then said, "Mr. Baxter is correct in giving me the title of 'Miss'."

"Roundabout, but still a confirmation. How about boyfriends?"

Mina let her spoon clunk into her bowl, staring at Dominic. Stephen said, "Dominic, don't pry."

Dominic shrugged. "What can I say, boss? I'm interested, so I ask. I wouldn't want to try to chat her up and have a jealous boyfriend come after me. How about it, Mina?" She continued eating. "No comment, but I think the temperature just dropped without anyone touching the thermostat."

"I don't blame her. Do not harass her. This project is very important to me, and I don't want you scaring her off. Miss O'Connell, the wine isn't to your taste? I notice that you've touched it to your lips a few times, but the level hasn't gone down."

She sighed. "It's not a slur on the wine, I'm sure it's very good. But I'm just not a wine drinker. It's an acquired taste, and I've never had the inclination to acquire it."

Miss Fulham brought in the soufflee, and Mina was too busy admiring the golden, puffed dome to notice the look that passed between her host and his aide. "Dominic, would you go in the kitchen and find a more suitable beverage for Miss O'Connell?" When Mina started to protest that water would be fine he said, "Nonsense. There's a selection of soda. I believe I've seen you drink Diet Coke?" Miss Fulham gave him a horrified look, which he ignored.

Back in the kitchen Miss Fulham put the soufflee dish on the stove and said, "A carbonated drink with soufflee! I know that Mister Baxter wants to coddle the girl, but really!"

Dominic was dropping ice cubes into a tall glass. "No choice, Fully. She's not drinking the wine." He pulled a small glass bottle out of his pocket and unscrewed the cap, revealing a dropper. He squeezed some of the liquid over the ice, paused, then added a bit more. "Got to get the Rhohypnol into her somehow, don't we? She's going to be skittish, and the boss doesn't want to be any harsher than he has to. This'll gentle her down. I don't want to put too much in, because he doesn't want her to pass out."

"No?"

Dominic laughed as he poured soda into the glass. "Hell, what fun would that be? Boss is looking forward to a little bit of a chase, so be sure the doors are locked."

The rest of the meal was excellent. The dessert was custard layered with fresh peaches and raspberry puree, and she'd been right--the long handled spoon was meant for reaching the bottom of the tall, slender glass. Mina had managed to eat till comfortable, but not overstuffed, and was feeling a little mellow. "Now, if I can find my way back to the study, I can get on with the work. Do you have a preference? Any special formatting, or shall I save it as plain text? Do you want it on floppies, or do you have a CD burner? That would be the most efficient way to store the information."

"Just save it to the hard drive for the time being, say a month at a time," Stephen said.

She went to the door and hesitated. "Um... I take a left turn, then the first left, and a right?"

"Left, second left, right."

Mina sighed. "If I get lost, is it all right if I yell for help?"

"I'm sure you'll do fine. I'm going to get comfortable. Just let me know when you're ready to go home, and Dominic will drive you."

Stephen and Dominic watched her go, and Stephen said, "You didn't give her too much, did you?"

"Relax. I gave her enough to get her like she's four or five sheets to the wind, but she shouldn't pass out."

"Excellent. I think I'll go take a shower, just so I'll be fresh." Stephen smiled as he started upstairs. "Now I just need to decide if I should go to her, or let her come to me."

Mina booted the computer and took the first volume of the journals down. *I can use that stapler and that paperweight to hold it open, but I need something to prop it against. Let's see, something wide, to support both sides." There were a number of leather bound picture albums on a bottom shelf. *Three of those should be just right. They should be heavy enough to not be pushed over.*

She stacked the albums, thinking, *Fancy, fancy. Embossed in gold. Missy, Angella, Claudia. Stephen doesn't have any sisters, so I wonder who these are for?* She snorted softly as she propped the first journal open. *Maybe they're filled with photos of the family's dogs and cats.*

She started typing. It didn't take her long to get bored, and she was used to working with boring material. *It looks like I'm in for seven decades worth of detailed accounts of what he had for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snacks. She flipped ahead in the book. *Oh, joy. They sent him to boarding school, so I get to transcribe institutional menus. Aaand... lesson plans. Sheesh. Well, at least he's bound to get a girlfriend somewhere down the line, since he must've spawned a kid to generate Stephen.* She typed another few paragraphs, then stopped, putting a hand to her forehead, feeling a bit lightheaded. *I am going to earn my pay on this one. I haven't even worked a half hour, and I need a break. Ah, the benefits of self-supervision. Now I can have a look at the books.*

She pushed the swivel chair back, the rollers moving smoothly on the rug that covered the hardwood floor, and she grabbed the chair arms. "Whoa." It had felt like the floor was tilting. *Must've moved too fast. Okay, let's see what we have here. Oh, damn. Someone was heavily into political and economic theory.* Her eyes fell on the remaining albums. *I haven't had much opportunity to look at other people's family snaps. Here's a chance.*

She picked up the top album--the one labeled Shelley. *Okay, Shelley, what are you? Cat, dog, horse, or maybe cousin?* She opened the cover. *Oo, Shelley is a blonde. No birthday parties or 'say cheese' photos. Lots of candids.* She flipped some more. *Oh, there's one where she's looking at the birdie, finally. Where is that? Looks like a cheap ass dorm room, or,* she thought fascetiously, *a cell.*

She turned a page. "Whoa! Smile, you're on candid camera, and none too pleased about it." Shelley was naked and wet in an open shower stall, trying to cover herself with her hands, and looking very upset. *Stephen, you dog! Did you take this? Oh, man. Talk about still water running deep. I shouldn't look at this.*

She closed the album, but found herself eyeing the others. "Oh, what the hell." When she leaned over for one she barely caught herself, bracing her hand on the shelf to keep from bumping her head. *Damn. Am I coming down with the flu or something?*

The second one was labeled Theresa. Theresa was older, in her late thirties, at least. Once again, candids, candids, candids, then a straight on photograph... *In that same damn dorm room.* A prickly feeling was moving up her spine. She didn't look any farther, but put it aside and picked up the album dedicated to someone called Renee.

Candids of a pale woman with long dark hair. Gradually Mina realized that all the women she'd seen had been dressed in clothes that wouldn't have been out of place in her own wardrobe. Now her scalp was prickling. She came to the 'dorm room' photograph. Her head beginning to swim, her hands trembling, she turned the page.

Renee was crouched in a corner of the bare room, clothes ripped half off, a terrified expression on her face. "Oh, Jesus." She turned the page. Renee was tied to a cot, naked. Mina felt a surge of nausea. She managed to vomit in the wastepaper basket, the album slipping from her lap to land on the floor.

When she finished heaving, her eyes fell on the album that lay at her feet. It had fallen open to show two pictures on facing pages. On the left, Dominic was sodomizing Renee, pushing her down with a hand on the back of her neck. On the right, Stephen lay naked between her spread legs, both hands pinning her shoulders to the cot. His expression was almost tender, but his eyes...

"I'm afraid Renee didn't last long."

She didn't scream. Later she wondered why she didn't, and concluded that the drug was responsible. What she did was jerk in the chair, shoving back from the album. Stephen was standing in the doorway, watching her mildly. He wearing a sophisticated looking navy blue dressing gown, his legs bare under the hem. Seeing Stephen Honeywell Baxter with bare feet, in a robe, somehow seemed just... wrong.

Stephen came closer. Mina cringed back in the chair, but all Stephen did was bend down and pick up the album. He looked at it for a moment. There was a faint hint of regret in his expression. "She killed herself. I wouldn't have thought it was possible with a plastic fork, but she swallowed the jagged bits. At least I think that's what happened. There was a lot of blood in her mouth and throat. Such a shame." He replaced the album on the shelf, then clasped his hands, gazing down at her. "Do you feel well, Mina? You look a bit dazed."

*Stay calm, Mina. Whatever you do, don't panic. Psychos do not deal well with hysterical people. Let's try just ignoring the situation.* "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" The smile was growing. "Did you sneak some wine while I wasn't looking?"

*Shit. He's playing with me.*

Stephen continued, "Why don't you lie down? There are plenty of beds upstairs. Of course, you look a little unsteady, so you'll need some help going up."

"I think I've done enough for tonight. Would you go call Dominic to take me home?" *And I run like hell as soon as you're out of sight.*

"I can do that. But Mina..."

*And when the hell did it go from 'Miss O'Connell' to Mina?*

He glanced at the wastepaper basket. "Oh, dear. You have been sick." He shook his head, frowning. "I only hope enough of it got into your system."

A fresh wave of dread washed over her. Despite her decision to act normal she said, "What got into my system?"

"The Rhohypnol. That's why you're feeling woozy."

*Rhohypnol? The fucking date rape drug?!* "You drugged me?" The resolve slipped. "You drugged me, you motherfucker?"

Now Stephen grinned, and waved a finger at her. "Language, Mina."

*I have to get out of here! Take him by surprise.* She lunged out of the chair, screaming, "It's Miss O'Connell, you asshole!"

Stephen was expecting her to be much groggier, and she caught him off guard, slamming into him hard enough to throw him sideways. He grabbed at her, and she lashed out, catching his cheek and laying down raw stripes.

She got past him but her co-ordination couldn't handle the sudden, violent movement. She staggered heavily into the doorframe, but bounced off into the hallway and kept going. She heard a sound behind her that raised the fear to terror--Stephen Baxter was laughing.

Somehow she managed to make her way to the entry hall and threw herself at the front door. *I just have to get out. I can't ask Dominic for help. Shit no, not after that photo. He's in on it, too, he...* She was trying the knob. It turned, but the door seemed to be stuck. As she tugged on it, looking to see if there was some button to be pushed or turned, she thought, *Son of a bitch!  My car! That bastard...*

The door wouldn't open. She heard Stephen call, "Miiina? Mina, be careful. You can hurt yourself if you fall." His voice was light and cheerful, and coming closer.

"Shit!" *Back door. I know I saw one in the kitchen. If I can make it to the highway I can flag someone down.* She stumbled down the hall toward the kitchen.

Miss Fulham was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping coffee. She looked up with a bright smile as Mina grabbed at the doorknob. "It's locked, dear. You look frazzled. Why don't you sit down and wait? Mister Baxter or Dominic will be here in a minute or two."

Mina stared at the older woman. "You... you're all crazy! Let me out of here and I'll tell the police you helped me."

"If you'll just calm down things will be much easier for you. Although," she smiled fondly, "Mister Baxter DOES enjoy a bit of a struggle." Mina looked around frantically, and grabbed the wall phone's receiver, stabbing at the buttons. "And there's a certain little something you have to do to dial outside. You might as well hang up."

She screamed, throwing the receiver against the wall and went out into the hall again. Dominic was standing at the far end, smiling at her. "Hey, cupcake! Why so agitated?"

"Bastard!"

"I love you, too. Or I will, after the Boss man says it's okay. You're moving pretty good considering how much juice I gave you."

Stephen came up behind him. "I'm afraid she upchucked most of it."

Dominic glanced at Stephen, then sucked his teeth in sympathy. "Damn, she got you good."

"It was my own fault for not waiting till the drug took full effect."

While they spoke Mina looked around frantically. There was only one clear path, and it led to the basement. *A trap, but there's nowhere else to go. There's a bathroom down there, and it should have a lock on the door.*

She hugged the banister all the way down, but still she fell the last two steps. She landed bruised and winded, but nothing was broken or sprained, and she managed to crawl to her feet. She ran to the left hand door, and found it unlocked. She threw herself in, slamming the door, and scrabbled at the knob. No lock. "Oh, God." She turned and braced her back against the door, knowing the futility. What she saw made her knees go weak.

The room, long and narrow, was lit by several candles. There were hundreds of glints being thrown back from the flames. The glints were coming from the glossy photographs that papered the walls. Photographs of herself.

Stunned, Mina slowly slid down till she was sitting on the floor. They were all of her, all of them. At work, at the library, in a coffee shop, in the company gym... *That photographer,* she thought numbly. *He's been planning this. He's been planning this for weeks.*

There was a tap on the door, and she heard Stephen say, "Mina?" A pause. "Come now, Mina, there's no use pretending you aren't there. I've already looked in the Hider Room and the restroom, so there's nowhere else you COULD be, since you couldn't get into The Tank. Will you come out, or shall I come in for you?"

"Let me go and I'll forget this happened."

Stephen chuckled. "Oh, please, Mina! I know you well enough by now to know that wouldn't happen. Come out. I'm not going to hurt you." His voice dropped to a purr. "I'm going to take very good care of you."

"Go to hell."