But she couldn't escape the sense of unease that twisted her insides now. The sensation of eyes watching her under a microscope.

Danger.

She had learned to listen to her intuition. Back in Vegas, there had been a stretch of weeks when she got the same feeling, that something was wrong, that she was sharing her life with a secret stalker. Later, she discovered that a predator named Tommy Luck really had been watching her all that time, and she wound up with a narrow escape.

That was then, she thought, and this is now. Tommy was history. The past was behind her.

Maybe it was simply that she couldn't escape her demons so readily. She was still haunted by memories of her teenage years in Phoenix, before she ran away to Las Vegas. Her mother had descended into a life-stealing addiction to cocaine and begun living with a sadistic drug dealer named Blue Dog who used Serena as his personal whore. She had fought long and hard to get past the helplessness of those days and still saw a psychiatrist every month to help her cope. It was over, but it was never really over. It only took a strange, disconnected sensation of danger to reawaken the scared child.

I'm not fifteen anymore, she told herself.

Serena continued through the park to the courthouse. She took the antique elevators to the top floor, where Dan Erickson had his office as county attorney with windows overlooking the lake. She introduced herself to the receptionist, hung up her coat, and took a seat on the almond-colored sofa. Serena wore black dress slacks, heels, a burgundy blouse, and a black waistcoat with gold buttons. It was a conservative outfit but didn't hide her figure. She noted the sideways glance from the receptionist and wondered if the girl had pegged her as the next in the long line of Dan's conquests.

The inner door to Dan's office opened.

A woman in her forties appeared in the doorway and gave the receptionist a cold smile that barely crinkled her lips. She had wheat-colored hair crisply pulled back behind her head, leaving only a few strands free to carefully graze her forehead. She was small and elegantly thin, with ruler-straight posture that would have made a Catholic nun proud. She had a Coach purse slung over her shoulder and wore a knee-length charcoal skirt and ivory jacket. Pearls dangled on inch-long gold chains from her ear-lobes, and a matching necklace glinted discreetly in the hollow of her neck. When her lake-blue eyes latched onto Serena in the waiting room, her brows arched into perfect twin peaks. She marched over and cocked her head.

"You're Serena Dial?" she asked.

"That's right."

The woman took the measure of Serena from head to toe. "Well, good for Stride. I didn't realize you were such a gorgeous creature."

"And you are?" Serena asked.

"Lauren Erickson. Dan's wife."

"Oh, sure, of course. I'm sorry, we haven't met before."

Serena recognized her now. Lauren was in the papers regularly, tangling with the city council over zoning issues on her real estate properties. She rarely lost; it helped to have the power of the county attorney quietly behind you and enough money to grease itchy palms. She was the banker and brains behind Dan's career.

"You're from Las Vegas, aren't you?" Lauren asked.

"That's right."

Lauren clucked her tongue as if Vegas belonged to a different solar system. " Duluth must be quite a disappointment for you. No Elvis impersonators. No topless chorus lines."

Serena stood up. She was nearly a foot taller than Lauren, and the other woman's small mouth puckered with annoyance as she tilted her chin upward to look at Serena.

"I was always a fan of the Liberace museum," Serena replied, smiling.

The receptionist smirked. Lauren silenced her with a glare and nestled her expensive purse against her shoulder.

"Everyone is talking about Eric's murder," Lauren said. "I took an early flight back from D.C. this morning, and Dan called me at the airport with the news." Lauren leaned in and whispered, "Of course, I always thought Maggie might blow his head off one day."

"Why would you think that?" Serena asked.

"This is a small city. People talk."

"What do they say?"

"Oh, please. We both know that Eric had a reputation."

"So do a lot of men," Serena said. Like Dan, she thought to herself.

"Maybe so, but I own a dress shop, and my store manager says that Eric is a regular customer."

"So?"

"So not all of the dresses he buys are in petite," she said with a wink. "Get the picture?"

Serena said nothing.

"What business do you have with Dan?" Lauren asked, giving Serena a cool smile.

"I don't know."

"That's discreet, but you can tell me. Dan and I don't keep secrets."

"I'm sure that's true, but I really don't know what he wants yet."

Lauren took a long moment to consider Serena's face and apparently decided that she was telling the truth. Serena suspected that Dan had already given his wife one story, and Lauren was trolling to see if he had told Serena the same thing.

"As it happens, I'm on my way to see Stride," Lauren continued.

"Oh?"

"Yes, there's an issue involving one of my employees. She's disappeared."

"I'm sorry."

"Well, it may be nothing, but she's a little unstable."

Serena didn't reply.

"I'll leave you to Dan," Lauren said. She added with a frozen laugh, "This is almost like wife-swapping, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Me with your boyfriend, you with my husband. That's a Vegas kind of thing, isn't it?"

"Not for me," Serena said.

"I'm glad to hear it," Lauren told her. "It's not my thing either."

Lauren was gone when Dan Erickson invited Serena into his office.

She wondered how long it would take before he touched her. It turned out to be three seconds. As he guided her toward the red leather sofa near the window, he put a hand on her shoulder and left it there too long.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting," he apologized. "It's been a crazy day. Everyone's calling."

"That's all right."

"Do you want some coffee?" he asked.

Serena shook her head.

"I'm addicted," Dan said. "Two pots a day."

He poured himself a cup and sat down uncomfortably close to her on the sofa. Serena slid away, putting more space between them. He noticed her maneuver and grinned. Serena didn't think she had ever seen whiter teeth, and she assumed that he treated them every night to keep them glossy.

Dan was one of those men who was every bit as handsome as he believed himself to be. She could smell his ego oozing from him like cologne. He had blond hair, heavily sprayed so that not a strand moved out of place, and a blemish-free complexion with a store-bought tan. His forehead was creeping northward, and Serena imagined him frantically applying Rogaine to stem the damage. He wore a shimmering navy suit, a gold Rolex, and a thick band on his wedding finger. He wasn't tall, no more than five feet nine, but she had no doubt that women found him attractive. Serena had seen carbon copies of him for years in Las Vegas. A predator, like a hawk. Self-absorbed. A sex addict.

"How's Stride?" Dan asked. "He must be worried about Maggie."

"Of course."

"Most people around here think she did it."

"You're getting way ahead of yourself, aren't you?"

Dan shrugged. "I've already talked to Teitscher. It doesn't look good."

"Stride says she didn't do it," Serena told him.

"He would say that, wouldn't he? Stride's not objective when it comes to Maggie."

"And you are?" Serena asked. "I know the two of you had a relationship a few years ago."

"If anything, that means I know her better than Stride. When our little affair came to an end, I saw what her temper was like."

Serena frowned. "Maybe we should talk about why you wanted to see me."