Deep Waters

of a woman spread-eagled on a bed registered.
    The woman's blond hair was fanned out on a pillow. Her ankles and wrists were bound to the bed with what appeared to be handcuffs. She was clad only in crotchless leather panties and a leather brassiere with holes cut out to reveal puckered nipples. A massive dildo lay between the woman's legs. An object that looked like a riding crop was positioned on the bed beside her.
    "Oh, my God," Charity whispered, horrified. "It's Phyllis Dartmoor."
    Fifteen minutes later Elias wolfed down the last peanut butter sandwich. He hadn't realized he was so hungry. He brushed the crumbs from his hands and looked wistfully at the empty plate. He'd eaten all but one of the sandwiches.
    He realized he felt better than he had all day. Nothing had changed. He still had Keyworth to face. But the decision to go back to Seattle to deal with the situation had made things clearer.
    And sex with Charity had done wonders for his sense of reality.
    Charity, however, looked very troubled. Her mood was beginning to worry him. She was still nibbling on the first half of the sandwich she had started fifteen minutes ago. Her eyes kept straying to the brown envelope on the table beside her. She had shoveled the photos of Phyllis Dartmoor back inside as soon as she had realized what she was looking at, but it was obvious her mind was still on the pictures.
    Elias lounged in his chair, shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, and stuck his legs straight out under the table. "What are you going to do about those photos?"
    Charity sighed. "Give them to Phyllis, I suppose. I don't know what else to do with them." She met his eyes. "Who could have left them under my door? And why?"
    Elias considered briefly. "There's a limited market for that sort of thing. It's no secret that you and Phyllis have been feuding for the past few months. Maybe someone wanted to give you some ammunition to use against her."
    "That's sick."
    "True."
    "What did the person expect me to do with those awful pictures?" Charity asked.
    Elias shrugged. "Try to blackmail poor Phyllis? Get her to back off her plans for Crazy Otis Landing?"
    "That's outrageous. How could anyone possibly think I'd do something like that?"
    "It does seem a little over the top, doesn't it?" Elias agreed. "Whoever it was must not know you very well. But that leaves a hell of a lot of possibilities. Like most of the population of Whispering Waters Cove."
    "It doesn't make sense." Charity hesitated. "Unless—"
    "Unless what?"
    "Unless Phyllis has a really serious enemy here in town. But I can't imagine who it would be. I mean, she can be forceful and even difficult at times, but let's face it, most people supported her position on the pier. The only ones who didn't were the Crazy Otis Landing shopkeepers, and I refuse to believe that Bea or Radiance or Yappy or Ted would do something like this."
    "Doesn't seem very likely." Elias paused. "There's another possibility."
    "Which is?"
    "Maybe whoever took those pictures tried to blackmail Phyllis with them. Maybe she refused to pay off."
    "So the blackmailer decided to punish her by leaving the photos under my door? He must have assumed that I disliked Phyllis enough to embarrass her with these pictures." Charity's mouth twisted. "Someone doesn't think much of me."
    Elias raised his brows. "It's probably safe to assume that whoever left those pictures here believes that everyone else in the world operates in the same moral vacuum as himself."
    "But if the photographer's goal was revenge against Phyllis, why not leave the pictures with Tom down at the newspaper?"
    "Even a scandal sheet wouldn't print that kind of stuff, and the Cove Herald is no tabloid. It's a family newspaper."
    "Good point."
    "When you think about it, you were the logical choice as far as the blackmailer was concerned," Elias said. "Because you are the one person in town who has been going toe-to-toe with Phyllis. Everyone knows that the two of you are involved in a feud over the pier."
    "We were in a feud until you showed up," she reminded him tartly. "I'd hoped the matter was settled now that you've made it clear that you're not going to sell, but it looks like some people are still expecting you to pull an off-shore rabbit out of the hat. Enigmatic man of mystery that you are and all."
    He watched her intently. "You believe me when I tell you that I have no plans to broker a sale of the pier to one of my clients, don't you?" She