Original Title: Body Of LiesClinical psychologist Alexandra Waters always tackles the tough cases. Counseling a convicted rapist is one of them. Alex believes she has made a difference in that man's life until she's called in to track down a serial killer. The cops--particularly superstar Bronx detective Zachary Stone--believe the perpetrator is Alex's client. Nobody listens when she insists it's not. Even if Zach thinks Alex is wrong, he can't stay away from her. Years before, they shared one night of passion--only one. Zach walked away, leaving Alex hurt and abandoned. Now the fire is back, blazing hotter than ever. But the killer they both seek is still on the loose and getting more dangerous. Even as Zach and Alex surrender to the desire building between them, Alex is targeted as the murderer's next victim. Alex can't run, can't hide, can't escape. All she and Zach can do is come up with a plan to fight back... Review Interesting characters, a well-developed romance between two intelligent, emotionally honest people and a race to stop a madman make this a book worth reading. -- Romantic Times Book Reviews Ms. Savoy has done her research and proves again that suspense is her forte' with the all the surprising twists and turns that seem to never end. -- Affaire de Coeur Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Prologue "What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?" It was a corny remark designed to be humorous so no one in their right mind in this day and age would say such a thing in sincerity. Still, he got the reaction he'd wanted. Even though he was in the crappy station wagon he'd boosted from in front of some apartment building on 233rd and she was a safe distance away on the sidewalk, she darted a glance at him, more annoyance than wariness in her gaze. He smiled to himself in a way that didn't show on his face. She wasn't his usual type, but she would do for tonight. She was too old, for one thing, and too skinny. He could tell despite the short black coat she wore. He liked them thick, with big legs, big asses, big tits, sloppy. More like her. Her mouth held promise, though--wide, loose, painted a dark shade of crimson, like blood. He would enjoy that mouth. He leaned farther toward the passenger door, while keeping the car at a crawl. This time he smiled for real. She had no idea of the favor he planned to do for her. He was about to make her famous. "You may not have noticed but isn't the best neighborhood at night." She cast him a look that would have translated to "no shit," if she'd spoken. This stretch of the service road of the New England Thruway was deserted from Connor Street on down to the new rows of two- and three-family houses on Baychester Avenue. Four blocks of near desolation, save for overflow from the highway, which could be heavy, but not at this hour, the couple of motels, the patrons of which were more interested in shielding their anonymity than anything going out on the street, and a couple blocks of unfinished houses, empty and dark, their facades looking like enormous gaping faces. Some places, like the bit of road she stepped onto now had no sidewalk to speak of. "I'll be fine," she said finally. He heard it in her voice, the fear that maybe she'd stumbled into the wrong place at the wrong time. He'd seen her get off the highway at Connor Street. He was at the BP station filling up the piece of shit station wagon when her car hobbled in with a flat right front tire. He'd listen to her asking the attendant if she could leave it there until she came back with help in a few minutes. At this time of night all the nearby shops extolling Flat Fixed had pulled in their signs for the night. She hadn't seen him, or at least he hadn't registered on her radar. He'd given her a five-minute head start, then followed. Now he smiled in a self-deprecating way and held the expression until he was sure she'd noticed. "I'm not trying to be a nuisance. In truth, I'm lost. There weren't so many houses or new houses around the last time I was here." "What street are you looking for?" "Givan." She gestured with her hand, "It's that way. Keep going and you'll hit it." "Thanks. You sure I can't drop you anywhere?" As if on cue, an Explorer rolled up on them, seemingly out of nowhere, like a huge dark specter, it's stereo blazing, it's headlamps casting garish light as it passed. The yahoo on the passenger side threw a beer bottle out the window. The projectile hit the ground with a dull crack, spewing liquid and glass onto the already filthy street. For one sweet moment he watched the car pass. Sometimes the universe was just with you. He knew he had her now. "Sure you don't need that ride?" he asked, but it was a tease. He knew what she'd do. She'd get in thinking she was safer with him than she was on her own. "Maybe I will take you up on your offer. In one move she stepped toward the car, pulled the door open and slid inside. He pressed the button on the driver's side door panel to depress all the locks. "Relax," he said, pulling away from the curb. "You're safe now. Where do you want to go? Givan, right?" "Just two blocks down, near the corner. Givan is the one after." He nodded, as if it made any difference to him. He concentrated on accelerating the car and the choice he had to make. "Hey, slow down," she said. "It's right there." He glanced at her sideways, grinning a little, just enough to let her know she'd miscalculated. "Let me out," she demanded, pulling futilely on the door handle. "Let me go. If you hurt me my father will kill you." Fear or pain. Pain or fear. The choice was always the same. He was close enough to the highway now to make the choice necessary. Traffic was light enough to ensure him an easy entrance if he timed it right. Just as the girl started to launch herself at him, he reached his left hand between his legs where he kept both a thirty-eight and a stun gun concealed beneath his T-shirt. He settled for the thirty-eight and aimed it at her chest. "Keep still and I won't shoot you. The girl froze. She was crying now, her threats forgotten. He grinned again. He'd chosen fear. The pain would wait for later.