"You're exhausted and upset," Ruth said. "You should get some sleep."

Andrew looked at Natalie warily as if he expected her to start jumping up and down and shrieking. "Would you like a sleeping pill, honey?"

"No. Kira was the one with a taste for downers, not me." That's better, she thought in satisfaction. Andrew appeared relieved that his daughter was issuing acid remarks instead of standing in the middle of the living room weeping. "I'll just clear up the dishes-"

"No, I'll do that," Ruth said, heading for the kitchen. "Off to bed and have golden dreams."

"I never heard of golden dreams before, but I'll try." Nat alie managed a weak smile. "Good night, Dad."

"Good night, my dear. Do you have plenty of blankets?"

It was June, and even if it had been January with a blizzard howling in off Lake Erie, Andrew was not one to worry over bed linens. She must have really rattled him. Natalie tried not to let her amusement show in her eyes. "I'm fine, Dad. Come on, Blaine. Bedtime for us."

The dog obediently followed her into the bedroom. Natalie shut the door against the murmur of Andrew's and Ruth's voices, immediately kicked off her high heels, and sat down at her vanity table. She looked awful, hollow-eyed and pale-skinned. She removed her earrings and wiped off her lipstick. Tonight she wouldn't worry about dousing her face in her usual expensive cleansing cream she'd let a pushy saleslady at cosmetic counter tell her she couldn't live without. Tonight a bit of equally expensive moisturizer would do. What had she been thinking when she bought this overpriced stuff? Kenny. She'd been thinking of looking like an eternal twenty-one-year-old for Kenny.

Disgusted with herself, she stood quickly and slid out of the unflattering black dress. She was unfastening her bra when suddenly Blaine trotted to the tapestry-covered bench beneath the window and jumped up. "No, no, Blaine," Natalie said. "Dog nails aren't good for the fabric."

Blaine ignored her. She nosed apart the curtains and stared intently for nearly ten seconds, then let out a low rumble.

Natalie went still for a moment, watching the black hair along Blaine 's backbone rise and her stance stiffen. Someone was out there.

Without thinking, Natalie swiftly covered herself with her silk kimono, not from a sense of modesty but from fear, as if the delicate cloth could protect her. She turned off the overhead light and crept near the window. She peeked through the crack in the curtains Blaine had made and saw-

Nothing.

She squinted into the night. The carriage-style light mounted on a pole near the side of the house threw dim illumination over the rock garden Andrew had built for Kira thirty years ago. A few brave Grecian windflowers, crocuses, and grape hyacinths stood against the cool darkness. Near the rock garden a weeping willow tree.

The weeping willow tree. Had she caught a hint of movement? Blaine rumbled again, leaning forward until her nose pressed against the glass. Natalie's heart beat harder. Possibly the dog had seen an animal, although if it were a small animal it would have to be climbing on the tree to equal the height at which she'd noticed movement. Besides, she'd seen Blaine spot a squirrel on a branch yesterday. The dog had looked interested but not especially excited. Natalie did not think the sight of an animal had caused Blaine 's raised hackles and stiff legs.

Her breath suspended, Natalie watched. She had inherited her father's sharp vision, better than 20/20. If anything-or anyone-was out there, she would see.

And there it was.

The glow of a cigarette tip. A lazy arc up, the brightening of the lighted ashes as someone inhaled, a lazy arc down. The watcher was calm and deliberate. How long had he been out there? What did he want?

Natalie jerked away from the window, startling Blaine who let out a sharp, loud bark. The yellow end of the cigarette shot away from the tree. Natalie rushed to the phone extension on her nightstand, called police headquarters, and reported the watcher. A slightly patronizing deputy told her not to worry as long as no one was trying to break into the house. "Is Sheriff Meredith in?" she asked.

"No ma'am, but we wouldn't need to bother the sheriff for some teenager trying to sneak a peek at a pretty lady undressing."

Anger flashed through Natalie. "Is Ted Hysell on duty?"

"Now, miss-"

"Is he on duty?" she demanded.

"He's not on duty, but he just stopped in-"

"Let me speak to him."

"It's not necessary-"

"Put him on the phone!" Damn, damn, damn! Precious time was slipping by. "Tell him it's Natalie St. John."

The deputy let out a furious sigh and yelled, "Hey, Hysell, some hysterical woman named St. John wants you!'"

In seconds Ted Hysell asked, "Natalie? What's wrong?" She told him about the watcher with as few words as possible. "Be right there," he said and hung up.

Natalie clutched the kimono around her and rushed into the living room. Her father and Ruth had left. She ran to the front door to make sure it was locked, then went to her bedroom and pulled on a pair of jeans, a sweatshirt, and Reeboks.

Once dressed, she walked back to the living room and turned on every lamp, then sat down on the Boston rocker. Blaine sat beside her, frequently looking up at her face for signs of anxiety. Natalie had never been afraid in this house. Unhappy. Angry. Bored. Never frightened. But three people had been savagely murdered in Port Ariel during the past week. Three people who were children of people linked to Eugene Farley, just like her own father was. And now someone stood in the dark and watched this house.

She rocked faster. Where was Ted? Had he only been humoring her? Had he and the other deputy laughed over her panic as soon as he'd hung up? Maybe she should call Nick Meredith. Yes, that's what she should have done in the first place.

Natalie jumped up and was striding to the phone when she heard noises outside. She rushed to the window. Two men with flashlights, talking. They walked toward the house and in a moment knocked on the front door. She had already seen one in uniform. She swung open the door. "Ted! How long have you been out there?"

"About five minutes. No lights, no sirens. Didn't want to scare off the creep, but there's no sign of anyone."

"Ted, someone was out there under the weeping willow."

"Thought that's where he was. We found two cigarette butts and a crumpled Marlboro package. I got the cigarette package for prints."

Natalie smiled. "You don't know how glad I am you're taking me seriously. Sheriff Meredith told me your theory about the connection among the murder victims."

"He did? I figured he just blew it off."

"Well, he didn't. He even talked to Constance Farley today. Didn't he tell you?"

"It's my day off."

Which explained his jeans and work boots. The other deputy was in uniform. "I'm sure he'll tell you about it tomorrow. He doesn't think she's a suspect."

Ted looked disappointed. "I thought I was on to something."

"I think you are, in spite of Constance 's alibi. So does the sheriff." She hesitated. "He respects your abilities, Ted."

The man's plain face slowly suffused with ill-suppressed surprise and joy. "He does?"

"Yes. He told me so." She didn't know what to say next. She might have already said more than Nick would like, but Ted had looked like he could use some bolstering. "Do you and the other deputy want to come in for some coffee?"

"No, no thanks," Ted said hurriedly. "Got to get back to write this up. Are you here alone?"

"Temporarily. Dad should be back soon."

"I'll have someone drive by once an hour anyway. 'Night, Natalie. Be sure to lock that door."

Oh, I certainly will, Natalie thought as she closed the door behind Ted. She had no doubt the watcher had been here before tonight and no doubt that he'd come again.