MAGGIE had gone straight home after her meeting with Kernan. Meeting? That was a joke. What kind of psychologist left his patients wanting to slam fists through walls?

She noticed her bags at the bottom of the staircase, still packed from her Kansas City trip. Boxes remained stacked in the corners. Her nerves felt as if they had been rubbed raw. She couldn’t remember when she had last eaten. It had probably been on the flight last night.

She considered changing and going for a run. It was getting dark but that had never stopped her before. No, what did stop her was knowing Stucky could be watching. Had he returned from Kansas? Was he out there somewhere, watching?

She hated feeling like a caged animal in her own home. Other than the clicking of her heels on the polished wood floor, Maggie heard nothing. But wasn’t the peace and quiet exactly what she longed for when she bought this house? What was that old saying—be careful what you wish for?

She unearthed her CD player, an inexpensive oversize boom box. She dug through the overflowing box of CDs. Finally she decided on an early Jim Brickman, hoping the piano solos would soothe her agitated insides. The music barely began, when Maggie noticed Susan Lyndell on the drive. It looked as though there would be no stress relief.

She opened the door before Susan made it up the steps. Her eyes darted everywhere but at Susan, checking, double-checking.

“How was your trip?” Susan asked as though they were old friends.

“It was fine.” Maggie grabbed the woman’s elbow gently and urged her into the foyer.

Susan stared at her, surprised. On her first visit Maggie had barely let the woman through the door, and now she was pulling her in.

“I got back late last night,” Maggie continued, closing the door. All she could think about was Stucky watching, choosing his next victim.

“I tried to call but you’re not listed yet.”

“No, I’m not,” she said with finality. “Did you speak with Detective Manx?”

“Actually, that’s what I wanted to tell you. I think I was mistaken about what we discussed the other day.”

“Why do think you were mistaken?” Maggie waited while her neighbor glanced around at her stacked cartons, probably wondering how she could ever afford such a house.

“I spoke with Sid,” Susan told her, though she still seemed distracted by Maggie’s things, or rather her lack of things.

“Mr. Endicott? What exactly did you speak to him about?”

“Sid’s a good man. I hate to see him going through this alone. I felt he had a right to know…about Rachel and that man.”

“The telephone repairman?”

“Yes.” Now Susan wouldn’t meet Maggie’s eyes, but it had nothing to do with the surroundings.

“What did you tell him?”

“Just that quite possibly she may have left with him.”

“I see.” She wondered why Susan could so easily betray her friend. And why was it suddenly so easy to believe Rachel had left with some stranger who, only days ago, Susan thought might hurt her friend? “And what did Mr. Endicott say?”

“Oh, maybe you haven’t heard. Rachel’s car wasn’t in the garage. The police initially saw Sid’s Mercedes and didn’t realize that Rachel’s was gone. She usually drives Sid to the airport when he goes out of town so he won’t need to leave the car in airport parking. Sid’s always worried about his car. Anyway, I think Rachel must have taken off with this guy. She was certainly infatuated by him.”

“What about the dog?”

“The dog?”

“We found her dog stabbed…injured under the bed.”

“I have no idea about that.” Susan shrugged as if she couldn’t be expected to figure out everything.

Maggie’s phone started ringing from inside her jacket. She hesitated. Susan waved a birdlike hand at her to go ahead. “I won’t keep you. Just wanted to fill you in.” Before Maggie could protest, her neighbor was out the door, almost skipping down the driveway. She definitely didn’t seem like the same anxious woman she had met a few days ago.

Maggie closed the door and took time to activate the alarm system while the phone continued to ring. Finished, she twisted it out of her pocket.

“Maggie O’Dell.”

“Jesus, finally. You need a better cell phone, Maggie. I think your battery must be low again.”

Immediately, Maggie felt the tension return to her neck and shoulders. Greg’s greetings always sounded like scoldings.

“My phone’s been off. I’ve been out of town. You got my message.”

“You should have some sort of messaging service,” he persisted.

“Greg, did I leave a carton at the condo?”

“No, there’s nothing here. You do realize that none of this would have happened if you had used United?”

Maggie ignored his I-told-you-so. “Are you sure? Look, I don’t care if you’ve opened it or if you’ve gone through it.”

“Listen to you. You don’t trust or believe anybody anymore. Can’t you see what this goddamn job is doing to you?” Why did he have to make this so difficult?

“Did you check in the basement?” she asked, knowing there was no way it had ended up there, but giving him one last chance for a way out if he had, indeed, opened the box.

“No, there’s nothing. What was in it? One of your precious guns? Are you not able to sleep at night without one?”

“Would you just call me if the carton shows up?”

“It’s not here.”

“Okay, fine. Goodbye.”

The doorbell chimed, and she was grabbing for her revolver before she even realized it. Jesus! Maybe Greg was right. She did live in a paranoid world.

Beside a lamppost, she could see a van with Riley’s Veterinary Clinic on the side. A man in white overalls and a baseball cap stood on the portico. Sitting patiently beside him was a white Labrador. Maggie recognized it as the dog she had helped rescue from the Endicotts’ house. Nevertheless, she examined the man, making certain this wasn’t a disguise. Finally she decided he was too short to be Stucky.

“The Endicotts live farther down the street,” she said as soon as she opened the door.

“I know that,” the man snapped. “Mr. Endicott refuses to take the dog.”

“Is that what he said?” Maggie thought the idea incredible after what the dog had been through.

“Well, his exact words were, it’s his wife’s frickin’ dog and if she took off and left the stupid dog, then he doesn’t want him either.”

“I’m not sure what you expect me to do. I don’t think my talking to Mr. Endicott will change his mind. I don’t even know the man.”

“Your name and address is on the release form you signed when you brought in the dog. Detective Manx told us to leave the dog with you.”

“He did, did he?” Of all the nerve. “And what if I refuse to take him?”

“I have orders from Mr. Endicott to take him to the pound.”

Maggie looked at the dog again, and as if on cue he stared up at her with sad, pathetic brown eyes. Damn it! What did she know about taking care of a dog? She wasn’t home enough to take care of a dog. She couldn’t have a dog. Greg was allergic to dogs and cats, or so he had said once. Allergic or not, she knew he would never have been able to tolerate anything with four paws climbing on his precious furniture. Suddenly Maggie realized that seemed like a good enough reason.

“What’s his name?” she asked as she took the dog’s leash.

“It’s Harvey.”