“Then he’ll call back,” I said airily. “Or someone will.”

Someone did, of course, within about five minutes. He was royally pissed, too. “If you have information about the case, you call me, not one of my men,” he said very tersely.

“Are you the same man who has hung up on me twice now? I can’t imagine ever calling you again, about anything.”

Silence as deep as the Grand Canyon fell between us. Then he muttered, “Oh, shit,” in the tone of a man who has just realized he’s gonna have to suck it up and apologize, because, no doubt about it, he’d been rude. Not only that, he knew that I was with the mother who had raised him to have better manners than that. This was just one teeny little battle, but he’d been outflanked and I got a great deal of satisfaction out of it.

Finally he heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry. I’ll never hang up on you again. I promise.”

“Apology accepted,” I said briskly. “Now, will Lynn be able to open Great Bods tomorrow?” There’s no sense in beating a horse to death, now is there? I’d won, so I’d be an adult and move on.

“I’m ninety percent certain she will.”

“Good. Is my car still sitting in front of it?”

“No. I got your keys out of your bag and had it moved to your condo this morning. It’s safe and sound.”

“When did you get my keys?” I asked curiously, because I hadn’t seen him do it.

“Last night. You were already sound asleep.”

“I’m guessing everything was all right at my house, no windows shot out or anything?”

“The patrolman checked, said everything was still locked up, the windows were locked, no bullet holes that he could see.”

“Did he climb the fence and check the French doors in back?”

“He said he checked all the doors. Let me buzz him and ask about that particular door.” He left the phone, and came back a minute later. “Simmons said he didn’t have to climb the fence; he just opened the gate and walked in.”

A chill ran down my spine. “I always keep my gate locked.” My fingers tightened on the phone. “I know it was locked.”

“Shit. I’ll get someone back out there right now. You sit tight.”

“Like I could do anything else,” I said wryly. We both very politely said good-bye, so neither could accuse the other of hanging up on anyone; then I reported the latest happening to Mrs. Bloodsworth.

That was when I remembered Siana. She was supposed to go to my place today and pack clothes for me. What if by some awful coincidence she was at my house when whoever unlocked my gate-which could only be unlocked from the inside-was there? Siana was blond. She was a little taller than I was, but Nicole’s killer wouldn’t know that. She had her own set of keys to the place, in case I lost mine.

She could have gone at any time to get my clothes: first thing this morning, or at lunch, or she might wait until she was finished with work for the day-but I didn’t think she would wait that long, because she had to meet Wyatt somewhere to give the bag to him and sometimes she had to work until eight, nine o’clock at night.

“What’s wrong?” Mrs. Bloodsworth asked, watching my face.

“My sister,” I said in a faint tone. “She was supposed to pack a bag for me today and give it to Wyatt. He didn’t mention it, so she might have been-”

She might have been mistaken for me. Oh, dear God.

Praying harder than I’d ever prayed in my life, I dialed Wyatt again. He sounded wary when he answered. “Siana was supposed to be at my house getting my clothes,” I said rapidly. “Have you heard from her today?”

“Calm down,” he said, his tone switching to soothing. “She’s fine. She brought your bag over first thing this morning.”

“Thank God. Oh, thank God.” Tears burned my eyes. “I just realized… She’s blond; she’s about my size; the killer wouldn’t know the difference between us.” I was appalled that I hadn’t thought of that before, and judging from the muttered curse I heard, our resemblance hadn’t registered with Wyatt, either, at least not in that context. People who knew us would never get us mixed up, because we don’t favor each other all that strongly, but on the surface, to the casual observer…

Because Wyatt was a cop, he asked, “Could Siana have opened your gate?”

I wiped the tears away. “I’ll call and ask her, but I can’t imagine any reason why she would.”

“I’ll call. I have more questions I need to ask her. I have a question for you, too: Is your security system set?”

I opened my mouth to automatically say, “Yes, of course,” but abruptly shut it as I remembered the last time I’d been at home, on Friday, waiting for the rental car company to come pick me up. I’d waited at the door, and when the man drove up, I had bolted. I had a distinct memory of locking the door, but none at all of setting the alarm.

“It wasn’t,” I finally said. “Unless Siana set it this morning when she left. She has the code.”

“All right. I’ll handle things here. Stay calm, and with any luck I’ll pick you up in a couple of hours. Okay?”

“Okay.” I was grateful he hadn’t lectured me about forgetting to set the security alarm. What on earth had I been thinking? Oh, yeah: the beach. I’d been in a hurry to get away.

The killer could have gotten in at any time during the weekend, and made himself comfortable while he waited for me to come home. Only, he hadn’t. Maybe he’d staked out my place and, when my car was never there, decided I must be staying with someone. But if he’d gone back to Great Bods, he would have seen my car and then maybe figured that was the best place to wait for me, because I was sure to collect my car.

That plan had worked, up to a point; it was only by chance that I was still alive. What would he have done next? No, wait-he might have thought the plan had worked yesterday evening, because I’d hit the ground and obviously he hadn’t hung around to check things out. He must have thought he’d killed me, until the news at ten told him otherwise-or maybe not even then. The hospital didn’t give out condition statements the way it used to. The police would have held their cards close to their chests last night, until Wyatt had me stuffed somewhere safe-like his bed was safe, but whatever. The morning news, though, would probably have said I was treated at the hospital and released.

So what would be his next move? Maybe he was in my house now, waiting for me. Maybe he’d just been checking things out, looking for a way to get inside. The French doors were the best bet, and the privacy fence would give him concealment while he jimmied them open, or whatever.

That would be stupid of him, though. The security company’s sign was plainly posted on my front window. He wouldn’t have any way of telling whether or not the system was on, so he wouldn’t chance it-not if he had a brain in his head.

I jerked out of my thoughts when Mrs. Bloodsworth finally got my attention, anxiously asking if Siana was all right. “She’s fine,” I said, and wiped the last tear away. “She packed my clothes early this morning, and gave the bag to Wyatt. He’s calling her to see if she turned on the security system.”

The odds were she had. Siana wouldn’t have left my house unguarded, even if the system had been off when she arrived. So, since no alarm had gone off, my home hadn’t been invaded. No killer waited there. He might have jumped the fence and tried to look in the French doors, but I had pulled the curtains closed over them and he wouldn’t have been able to see a thing. Everything was all right.

I breathed a huge, mental sigh of relief.

“There’s no telling what time Wyatt will get here,” Mrs. Bloodsworth said. “I’m going to go ahead and start supper for us. If he doesn’t make it in time to eat with us, I’ll just keep things warm for him.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” I asked, hoping there was, because it was getting kind of old just sitting around all day and letting someone wait on me.