LITMIR.BIZ

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her funny, easygoing outlook on life.

      Yeah, he liked her, and he’d seen an answering attraction in her eyes tonight—for her sake he should clear out right now. He should just get in his car and leave.

      JESS RINSED THE ICED TEA glasses and put them in the dishwasher, feeling oddly unsettled. She’d set out to find some facts about her mysterious tenant, but all she had now were more mysteries.

      He had no family and yet he was glad about that.

      He grew up somewhere near New York City, but when she’d asked him where exactly, he’d continued to be vague.

      Jess picked up the newspaper that Rob had brought inside, and went to check on Kelsey. It was supposed to be Kelsey’s job to bring the afternoon paper in each evening, but occasionally her daughter forgot. It was all part of being six years old.

      Kelsey was fast asleep, the bedsheets twisted around her like some kind of Roman toga. Jess smiled, pushing Kelsey’s damp brown hair back from her warm, round, freckled face. She hadn’t expected that her quiet conversation in the kitchen with Rob would disturb her daughter. Kelsey would remain sound asleep throughout the noisiest thunderstorm. The kid could sleep through anything.

      It probably came as a form of self-protection, from the days when Kelsey’s father was still living with them. Ian Davis, with his shaggy blond curls and mocking blue eyes was the first violinist and concert master of the Sarasota Symphony Orchestra. He was flashy, arrogant and selfish. And interminably loud and often rudely, nastily abusive. Jess’s ex-husband was jealous as hell, and would start a fight with her over something as innocent as a friendly smile she gave to the attendant at the gas station.

      Yet fidelity wasn’t in Ian’s vocabulary when it pertained to himself.

      Jess could still feel the giddy sense of freedom she’d felt on that day two years ago, when she’d packed up Ian’s things and sent them to the SSO office with a letter from her lawyer.

      She carried the newspaper into the living room. Doris had been wrong. As tough as things were financially, Jess didn’t need—or want—a man around. She and Kelsey were getting along just fine on their own.

      Of course, Ian still didn’t agree. According to him, their relationship was in no way over. He came around constantly and left the key to his condo in her mailbox, on her porch, in her car. Did he really expect her to come crawling back to him? Jess would send the key back, but she’d just find it again several days later. Finally, she tossed it into her junk drawer. Game over. Let Ian think he won.

      As Jess set the paper down on the coffee table, the headline caught her eye. As usual, it was about the Sarasota serial killer. It was amazing. Sarasota wasn’t that big a city. Sure, there was crime, but nothing ever like this. It was disconcerting to think that a madman was out there, prowling the streets, hunting down and killing young women.

      The latest victim was twenty-two years old. She had come home from graduate school for spring break, to visit her parents. Her body had been found, raped and murdered, in her own bedroom. Jess shivered as she read the interview with the police.

      The killings had been going on for six months now, although the media and the public had only known about it for half that time. The FBI were closemouthed about whether or not they had any suspects. They warned all area residents—women in particular—to keep their doors and windows locked, and to avoid going out alone, particularly at night.

      Jess stood and locked the front door.

      Of course, with Rob Carpenter living in the attached apartment, she should feel safe. The walls were so thin, she wouldn’t have to scream very loud for him to hear. Unless of course, she thought with a wry smile, remembering Doris’s words of warning, Rob himself was the Sarasota serial killer.

      But that wasn’t really such a funny joke. True, Doris was probably just being melodramatic as usual, but the fact remained that Jess didn’t know very much about Rob at all. He was a stranger. On top of that, it seemed oddly coincidental that he should have moved to Sarasota six months ago—right before the murders started.

      Jess mentally gave herself a shake. Oddly coincidental? She was getting as bad as Doris. Sure, he had moved to Sarasota six months ago. But so had lots of other people. It wasn’t odd, it was just plain coincidental.

      Rob was just a nice, quiet guy who didn’t like to talk about his past. No big deal. Jess didn’t like to talk about her marriage to Ian. That didn’t make her an axe murderer. Maybe Rob had been married to some stinker. Maybe he’d had a lousy childhood. Maybe he just wasn’t comfortable talking about his personal life. He’d opened up quickly enough when she’d asked him about movies and books. Of course, that was just glorified small talk.

      Rob was just a nice, quiet guy.

      Still, Jess stood up and locked the back door anyway.

      THIS PART WAS THE BEST. He had brought the rope, of course, and the knife. He loved the look on her face when he tied one end of the rope around his own ankle. And he loved it even more when he told her to tie the other end around her leg.

      But first, he ordered her to get herself ready—to put on her makeup while he got undressed.

      She was crying by then, but that was okay. They always cried around this time.

      She would stop soon.

      Chapter Two

      “Hey, Bug, what’s happening?”

      “Rob!” Kelsey’s voice carried clearly inside from the backyard. “You’re home!”

      Jess moved to the kitchen window and watched as her daughter leapt from her swing set and ran to greet Rob.

      She glanced at the clock. It was almost five—earlier than he usually came home.

      It had only been two weeks, but it seemed as if Rob had been living in the spare apartment forever.

      It hadn’t taken long to settle into a routine of sorts. He would come home from work and play in the yard with Kelsey. Jess would come out after a while, and invite him to join them for dinner. He would refuse, except for the times she hadn’t bothered to cook. If she was planning to send out for pizza or Chinese food, he’d agree to eat with them—but only if he could pay. Since last Monday, Jess had been insisting they split the bill.

      Why? Because they’d been eating an awful lot of pizza and Chinese food lately.

      The evenings had quickly settled into a routine, too. Jess and Kelsey would plan to play a game or rent a video, and they’d invite Rob to join them. Sometimes he’d stay. Sometimes he’d take his car and go out—where, he never said, and Jess never dared to ask.

      Rob always kept their conversations light, never getting personal. He talked about the weather, baseball, Kelsey’s school. Small talk. Although last week, the subject of Ian had come up, after Jess’s ex paid her a particularly unpleasant visit.

      Jess had felt Rob watching her after Ian finally left. She’d glanced up at him and tried to smile. “Sorry about that,” she’d apologized.

      Rob shook his head. “I wasn’t sure whether to leave and give you privacy, or…”

      “I appreciated it that you stayed,” Jess said, meeting his eyes. “Ian was drunk again and he’s something of a wild card even when he’s sober.” She laughed, but there wasn’t much humor in her voice. “He drinks, and then he thinks that he wants me back. I don’t know why. He didn’t want me when we were married.”

      Rob leaned back against the rail of the deck, still watching her.

      “I’m sorry,” she said again, trying to shake herself out of the depression that always followed one of Ian’s visits. “I don’t mean to sound so bitter.”

      “He’s pretty screwed up,” Rob commented. He hesitated, looking down at the stained boards of the deck before he continued. “Jess, may I ask you a personal question?”

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