He’d gotten into his car, stripped off his wet jacket, hat, and gloves. He turned on the engine and heater, soaking up the warmth.

Blowing into chilled hands, he waited and watched the woods for Leah to emerge. Another ten minutes had passed and he’d been on the verge of heading back down the muddy path when she’d appeared, soaked to the skin but still running. One foot in front of the other.

Most would have been put off by Leah’s odd juxtaposition of personality traits. She certainly was everything he didn’t need. But he liked her quirks. Her spirit. Her. He’d never understood the concept of love at first sight. Thought it was for fools. The weak. Not logical. But in this moment, the idea had merit.

Leah drove home, all the while checking her rearview mirror for any signs of the car. Nothing. No one was behind her. False alarm.

At a stoplight, Leah slumped back in her seat and swiped a hand over her damp hair. I’m losing it. A man in the park. This has nothing to do with me. Philip is buried in the ground.

In the days when Philip had been stalking her, she’d learned to vary her routine. Never take the same route twice. Instead of turning onto her street as she normally did, she circled the block once and then twice, all the while looking in her rearview mirror to confirm no one had followed. Now, distracted, she didn’t notice the traffic stopping unexpectedly. When she did, she had to jam her foot on the brakes. Her wheels hydroplaned and she nearly slammed into the car in front of her. Heart pounding, she rubbed her eyes and tried to focus. No one was following her, but if she didn’t get her act together, she’d have bigger problems.

Rattled, she drove directly to her town house and parked in front of it. A glance at the clock, and she realized she’d not only almost wrecked her car but she was late. Damn. No time for doughnuts. She dashed inside, locked the doors behind her, and hurried to the shower.

As she stood under the spray, the heat of the water teased a shudder from her chilled bones. She quickly washed her hair and then soaped her body. Fingertips grazed the uneven scars on her forearms and belly, lingering on the thick raised scar on her left side. Not Philip’s first cut, but his most lethal. This had been the cut that nearly ended her life.

Leah flexed her fingers, rinsed off the remainder of the soap, and shut off the tap. As she toweled off, she looked toward the long full mirror, thickly clouded with condensation. Wrapping the towel around her, she wiped clean a section and exposed only her face so that she didn’t have to see all her scars. The two on her face ran along her right chin. The plastic surgeon had worked long and hard to repair the damage.

She dried her hair and applied the special makeup designed to cover birthmarks and scars. Once it was applied, her skin looked almost normal. A half hour later, she emerged from her town house, coffee in hand, dressed in a dark turtleneck, jeans, and black walking shoes.

The rain had cleared out, but the January morning jealously gripped the cold. Her purse slung over her shoulder, she hurried to her car, set her cup in the holder beside the early morning’s stale one. She started the engine, welcomed the heat, and was reaching for the gearshift when her phone rang. She glanced at the number. A local area code. Because she didn’t recognize it, she let voice mail pick up the call and drove into the office.

She arrived at the clinic by eight. Flipping on the front lights in reception, she immediately locked the main door behind her. She made a habit of always locking the doors when she was there alone. Gail would arrive at eight thirty, and from then on the doors would be open.

Most mornings, she had about half an hour to check on the overnight patients and review the morning schedule before the first round of appointments arrived. Only two overnight guests were housed in the kennel at the moment. Tracker and a tomcat who’d gotten into a fight. She’d stitched up the cat yesterday and given him a strong sedative so he would sleep through the night. Now he was awake and glaring at the cage bars as he scratched at the white cone-shaped collar around his neck.

Tracker rose, silent, his gaze alert as the cat hissed. Normally, the shepherd was a quiet dog. Not one to bark but always paying attention as he waited. Friendly enough, he never wagged his tail until Alex arrived to check on him. Tracker understood Alex was part of his pack.

“Going home today, Tracker.” She checked her watch. “Your dad should be here by lunch.”

She opened Tracker’s cage as the cat batted his cage. The shepherd eased out of his crate, his joints stiff from age and years of police work.

As she hooked Tracker’s leash and led him toward the back door, the tomcat hissed loud and clear. She laughed. “Don’t complain to me, mister. You’re the one who likes to duke it out on the mean streets. You’re lucky you didn’t lose a foot. I’ll feed you in a minute.”

Outside, Tracker raised his nose and sniffed the air, as if savoring the cold. They walked around the parking lot and toward the ring of woods that surrounded the lot. As much as she didn’t like the cold, she didn’t rush Tracker. Fifteen minutes later, the two were back inside and she was loading fresh food and water into his bowls. The dog ate happily.

Leah cleaned the cat’s litter box and then filled his bowls. He dove into the food, growling as he gobbled. She went to the break room and put a pot of coffee on to brew before heading to her office.

Her room was a small space, barely large enough for the desk, a chair for her, and another for anyone else who needed to sit. Bookshelves lined the walls behind her, but other than a few of her veterinary textbooks, most of the space was filled with books that had belonged to the former vet. Her diploma hung on the wall, but she had no personal photos or mementos for the shelves. Maybe, over time, she’d make memories and her own mark.

The front door opened and closed, and she recognized Dr. Nelson’s slow, steady footsteps. She always relaxed a fraction when he or Gail arrived and she was no longer alone.

“Leah,” Dr. Nelson said, leaning on her door frame. “Did you have a chance to walk our overnight guest?”

“I did.”

“Thank you. I was worried because I was running late. I had a power outage last night and overslept.”

She smiled. “You can always text me.”

“I had my wife call and she left a voice-mail message.”

Leah reached in her purse for her phone and noted the number. “I’ll put her name and number in my contact book so I recognize her the next time. Sorry about that.”

He rubbed his cold hands together. “No problem. Nice to know I have good help.”

She rose and slid on her white jacket. “We got a lot of icy rain last night. Did that damage your power lines?”

“My wife’s got a call in to the electric company. But we’re the only house without juice.”

A distant alarm bell clanged in her head. It was easy to cut the power to a house. It took so little effort to totally ruin another’s day.

“So what’s on the agenda?” she asked, clearing her throat.

“Full morning of appointments. The usual. Shots. Checkups and a case of mange. The rest I’m not so sure about. Routine.”

“I like routine.”

She filled her coffee cup in the break room and headed out toward reception, where she found Gail logging onto her computer. She had short, curly hair that framed a round face, wore a scrubs top over her jeans. She had been with the clinic at least two years. Young and full of energy, she talked often about becoming a vet tech but hadn’t done much about looking into programs. Still, the clients loved her because she knew every pet’s name and history.

Leah and Dr. Nelson began the morning round of appointments and she soon lost track of the time. By the time she took a break, it was after eleven.