She went around and checked the trunk.

No ticking box. No random human head. No threatening note made out of mismatched letters cut from the pages of a magazine.

Closing her car up, she leaned back against the quarter panel and crossed her arms over her chest. As she stared at her house, she was glad she’d gone to BU and gotten into the habit of always locking her doors. Boston was a big city and crime happened anywhere there were lots of people.

Crime also crept into isolated places.

Her eyes returned to the footprints beneath the windows of her living room. Good thing she always had a deadly weapon with her—

As her phone went off in her pocket, she jumped with a shout. Then she took the thing out. It was a 518 area code, and she had a thought that it was Daniel.

“Hello?” She waited for a response, expecting it to be him. Wanting it to be him. “Hello … ?”

When he didn’t return the greeting, and a telemarketer didn’t click in and tell her that she was due a refund from Amazon or had a repayment option on her college loans, she hung up. Memorizing the number, she went onto the web and typed it into a reverse search—

A text banner came through on the top of her screen.

From the number.

Opening it—

She looked up. Looked around.

As a shiver went through her, she refocused on the image. It was of her, leaning back against her car, looking at her phone in the sunlight.

Her heart skipped and then pounded.

With shaking hands, she put her phone away. Her mouth was dry so she swallowed a couple of times. Then she took a deep breath.

Striding forward, she zeroed in on where the picture had to have been taken from, given its angle. Ten feet into the stalk, she broke out into a jog. Then a run. As her windbreaker flapped and her ears burned from the wind, her eyes locked on a thicket of trees.

Her mind stopped considering the dangers as her body took over.

All she knew was that she was not going to be pushed around.

Even if it killed her.

SO HOW WAS your weekend?”

As Candy’s voice registered, Lydia jerked and looked up from behind Peter Wynne’s computer. Even though Lydia was in the WSP building and supposedly at work, it was still a shock to see the other woman. Then again, she felt like she’d been gone a very long time, proof that emotions, if they were strong enough, could take you on a vacation.

Of course in her case, it had been a bad one, the equivalent of a Princess Cruise with Norwalk virus as a cabin mate.

“Hello?” Candy prompted.

Lydia shook herself to attention and focused properly. “Oh, hey—wow, look at your hair.”

“Blond again.” Running a hand full of rings over the short length, the woman shrugged. “You know what Dolly Parton says.”

“Working nine to five?”

“It takes a lot of money to look this cheap.” Candy laughed at her own joke. “Anyway, I saw the folder you left on my desk. You got all the invitations done. Amazing.”

“I’m going to take them to the post office on my lunch break.”

“Sounds good. And hey, you look comfy in here.”

“Do I?” Lydia glanced around at the wood paneling and the diplomas. “I don’t feel comfy.”

“Well, I can help you with that.”

“You’re going to bring me a Barcalounger?”

“Not a bad idea. But let’s start with coffee, shall we?”

As Candy headed for the break room, Lydia called out, “Were you a pusher in an earlier life?”

“Are you turning down caffeine?” came the response.

“No,” Lydia muttered as she rubbed her eyes.

She’d been up all night, the sense that things were moving in the shadows around her bedroom or that people were peering in her windows and watching her making it impossible to sleep. And even though she’d been two years in that house, she’d never realized how loud it was until every single creak, groan and whistle of the wind had shot through her entire body. It was like she’d been a tuning fork for the soundtrack of a horror movie.

Speaking of which, where was that motorcycle? Even with a good muffler, she would have heard the Harley. Maybe Daniel Joseph had had second thoughts about the job.

Or maybe, as a drifter, he had just drifted away, “not here for long” being a mere forty-eight hours on the job as opposed to a season or two.

Reaching behind her, she cranked the window open, the chirping of the spring birds getting louder, the cool rush tickling her nose.

“Are we here in body, not soul today?” Candy demanded as she came back with two mugs. “All those invitations set you back? You look like crap.”

“Why thank you,” Lydia said as she took what was given to her.

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“I was talking about the coffee.” Lydia drank in a gulp, and her eyes watered as her tongue and the roof of her mouth got burned. “You want to sit down for a sec?”

“If you fire me, you’re going to have to vacuum this place by yourself.”

“I’m not firing you.”

“Shoot, I could have taken an unemployment vacation.” Candy parked it and pulled her forest-themed sweater into place. “Maybe gotten that face-lift I’ve always wanted. So what’s up, fearless leader.”

As the joking title sunk in, Lydia thought about the way she’d rushed into the woods the morning before, determined to kick the shit out of someone who could very well have shot her in the head for all she knew.

Nothing had been inside the line of trees, though. And there had been no evidence of someone having stood there and taken her picture—no disturbance in the pine needles, no sound of anybody retreating on foot or in a car, bike, or ATV. Had they just disappeared?

When she’d walked back to her house, her whole body had been shaking. Fearless leader? Not even close.

“What made you ditch the pink hair?” she murmured. Because she really didn’t want to open any cans of worms. Not until she dead-bottomed the mug.

And all she had were worm cans.

Candy shrugged. “The pink was stupid. It’s just that simple. Now give me details on your Saturday and Sunday. I can tell you didn’t go to the hairdresser’s. You look like you’ve been pulled through a rose bush backwards.”

“You know, you do not have a way with words, Candy.”

“Really? You could have fooled me. So … ?”

“No.”

“No. What?”

“I did not see Daniel Joseph. He was out of town, and I told you on Friday, I’m not dating anyone from work. I’m not dating anybody.”

Ever, she added to herself.

“Well, that’s a damn shame.” Candy adjusted her hoop earring. “I’d give it a whirl if I weren’t a hundred and twenty-six years old. So what do you really want to talk to me about?”

Lydia sipped from her mug again, but was more careful with the hot stuff. “I, ah, I want to know if Peter’s received anything here that seemed … odd.”

“What, like, takeout all the way from Plattsburgh?” As Lydia shot a level stare across the desk, Candy rolled her eyes. “FYI, you have to actually be in a place to get any kind of delivery. Unless it’s me and UPS. I swear, if that driver ever shows his face here, I’m going to—”