“Is he dangerous, do you think?” Kay’s fleshy face is etched in concern.

“Who knows? He’s a creep.” Elena shakes her head.

Landry persists, “But do you feel threatened?”

Elena tilts her head as if contemplating the question, then shrugs. “I don’t know. But, I mean, look what happened to Meredith. You never know what people are capable of doing.”

There’s a long silence.

“Do y’all think—” Landry cuts herself off, realizing now might not be the time to bring this up.

“What?” Elena prompts.

“I’ve just been wondering—what if Meredith’s blog was responsible for . . . I mean, what if some crazy person was following her online—you know, even stalking her, like this Tony guy is with you, Elena—”

“No, I said he’s not really stalking me.”

“I know, but . . . you said yourself that there’s something you don’t like about him and he’s scaring you.”

“No, I didn’t say ‘scaring.’ ”

“I’m sorry, I guess I’m just jittery because of what happened to Meredith, and—anyway, what I’m trying to say is, what if she attracted some crazy follower on her blog? And what if whoever it was went after her because he knew she was alone in the house, and he knew where to find her . . .”

“I’ve thought of that.” Elena nods. “She really put it all out there, you know? More so than some of us.”

“I know. I hate to think that someone evil could have been reading all of her innocent posts, watching her, waiting to—” Seeing the horrified look on Kay’s face, Landry breaks off abruptly. “Kay, are you all right?”

“I am, I just . . . I thought it was random. A burglary. I didn’t think . . .” She shakes her head. “Oh my God.”

“It’s definitely made me think twice about what I’m willing to share online,” Elena tells them. “I mean, anyone out there can be reading our blogs.”

“Including your friend Tony.”

“Don’t think I haven’t thought about that, Landry. Maybe it’s time to stop.”

“Stop blogging?”

“Stop spending so much time with the online group. The public one, anyway. It’s one thing to spend so much time networking online when you’re first diagnosed, dealing with the shock and the treatments and feeling alone. But lately I just do it out of habit. I mean, the three of us can still stay close. Now that we’ve met, I can’t imagine losing touch with you guys. But the others—not that I don’t appreciate all the friends I’ve made online, but with Meredith gone . . . I don’t know. Maybe it’s time to take a step back. Especially if . . . do you really think something happened to Meredith because of what she wrote?”

“Do you?” Kay looks up at last.

“Maybe. How about you, Landry?”

She nods slowly. “I do. In my gut . . . I really do.”

Finding herself within arm’s reach of Landry Wells for the second time today, Jaycee doesn’t dare turn her head as she listens to the conversation unfolding behind her.

She couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw the familiar rental car pull into the parking lot as she sat at the table by the window, sipping the last of her coffee.

For a split second she wondered if the three of them had spotted her at the funeral and followed her here.

She had to remind herself, once again, that they don’t know what she looks like. She’s just jittery because she’s fairly certain the lady cop recognized her. But not, of course, as Jaycee the breast cancer blogger.

As Jenna Coeur.

And Jenna Coeur has nothing to do with Landry, Kay, or Elena.

They’re here, she realized, for the same reason she herself is here; for the same reason most people go to Starbucks. The coffee is good and the chain is popular. Plus, it’s near the funeral home—not to mention their hotel.

She should have considered that before she stopped. Or if she had to stop, she should have jumped back on the highway and gotten out of here with her coffee.

When she saw them coming, it was too late. She knew she was trapped. Leaving now would mean walking right past them. She sat hoping they’d take their coffee to go, but of course they didn’t. And as fate would have it, for the second time today the only vacant spot in the place is right next to her.

It’s almost as though somebody up there is trying to tell her something.

Meredith?

If so, she’d better cut it out, because her nerves were edgy enough before all this.

Then again . . . now that the three of them are settled into the next table, she finds herself almost glad for the encounter. After spending so much time wondering what it would be like if things were different and she actually could have met them in person, it’s almost as if she’s a part of things after all. She’s heard every word they’ve said since they sat down, and almost choked on her own saliva when Landry mentioned her blogger name.

But right now they’re discussing Meredith. More specifically, her murder.

“I still can’t believe anyone who read her blog could have been evil enough to come after someone like her.”

That’s Landry talking. Jaycee finds it easy to distinguish her drawl from Elena’s rapid-fire Boston accent and Kay’s flat midwestern one.

“What do you think the detective is going to ask us when we talk to her?” Kay asks, and Jaycee realizes she wasn’t the only one at the funeral who captured the attention of law enforcement in their midst.

“She probably thinks we might know something. Which we don’t.” Elena pauses, then amends, “At least, I don’t.”

“Maybe there’s something we didn’t realize at the time,” Landry tells her.

“I can’t think of a thing.”

“I can’t either. I’m just glad for the opportunity to feel like I’m doing something constructive after feeling helpless about it.”

“Me too,” Elena replies. “And I hope they’re going to do whatever it takes to make sure this guy doesn’t get away with it, whoever he is. Did you see how that detective was looking at everyone leaving the service? Like she thought maybe the killer was right there with us?”

“But it’s been a week since . . .” Kay again, hesitating. “I mean, don’t you think he’s long gone by now? Why would he show up at the funeral today?”

“Maybe it’s not someone online. Maybe it was some local thug, and for all we know, they already have a suspect.” Landry again.

Elena gives a short laugh. “I didn’t see anyone there who looked like a thug, did you?”

“Sometimes thugs don’t look particularly thuggish.”

“True. But even if it was an unthuggish thug—and someone local who knew her—he still could have been reading her blog.”

“I know. I bet that detective has been combing through every word Meredith ever wrote, and everything anyone ever wrote to her.”

“I’ve been doing the same thing,” Kay tells Landry. “I keep looking back over her old posts, trying to see if there’s any clue that she might have run into some kind of trouble, or . . . you know, if she made someone angry.”

“Meredith was pretty outspoken. She made plenty of people angry,” Elena points out. “But angry enough to track her down and hurt her? I don’t think so. I really think it had to be some random person who was just plain crazy.”

“All I know,” Landry says, “is that the world already feels emptier without her in it.”

Jaycee listens to them chatter on, moving back to the topic of what Elena should do about Tony.

“I don’t even want to turn my phone on again,” she says. “I’m afraid I’ll have more hang-up calls from him.”

“Just keep it turned off, then,” Kay advises, but Landry has the opposite advice.

“I think you should deal with it now, or you’ll be dwelling on it all weekend—and so will he. If he’s truly obsessed, he might . . . I don’t know . . .”

“Snap and kill me?” Elena asks, then groans. “I’m so sorry. I forgot, for a second, about Meredith. I was kidding.”

“We know you were,” Landry tells her. “It’s okay.”

“Let me see if he’s called again.”