“I won’t need to stay at a hotel. There’s a small apartment above the shop. I can stay there for a few days at least.”

He produced a notebook and consulted notes made earlier. “That’d be the antiques shop? Two-oh-four Emerson?”

“Yes.”

“You said your partner—Margo James—is out of town?”

“On a buying trip, yes.”

He frowned slightly as he returned the notebook to his pocket. “Miss Gallagher, can you think of anyone who might…wish you harm?”

“No.”

Lewis seemed dissatisfied with the terse response, and Tucker was surprised; why didn’t she say something to the cop about being watched? If that was true, if someone was watching her, then surely she must have realized that whoever it was might wish her harm. But she didn’t mention that, just continued to look at Lewis without much expression.

The cop said, “Several of your neighbors saw a strange man hanging around here not more than a few minutes before the flames were spotted. Does that surprise you?”

“That my neighbors watch my house? No.”

This time, Lewis scowled. “The man, Miss Gallagher. Did you see anyone hanging around here today?”

“No. As I told you before, I was reading in the front room and didn’t see or hear anything until I smelled smoke. None of the smoke alarms had gone off, so I had no warning. By the time I smelled smoke, the fire was so bad I barely had time to call 911 and get out. I couldn’t even get to my car keys so I could move the car out of the garage.” She drew a little breath to steady a voice that had begun to wobble just a bit, and finished evenly, “I wasn’t cooking anything. I didn’t have any candles burning. No fire in the fireplace. And all the wiring was inspected just ten months ago when I completed the renovation. It was no accident that my house burned. But I don’t know of anyone who would want to hurt me by starting that fire.”

“All right.” Lewis lifted a hand as if he would have touched her, then let it awkwardly fall. It was obvious that he was wary of touching her, and equally obvious that Sarah Gallagher knew it.

How much of that sort of thing had she been forced to put up with? How many times had she seen people draw back in fear, or look at her as though they believed she wasn’t normal? Mysterious watching strangers notwithstanding, Tucker couldn’t help wondering whether one of her wary neighbors had decided to burn out the local witch.

Avoiding her steady gaze, the cop turned his own to Tucker and scowled. “Who’re you?”

Rather surprised he hadn’t been asked before now, Tucker gave his name and no further information, surprised again when Sarah Gallagher added a cool explanation.

“He’s a friend, Sergeant. If you’ve finished with me, he’s going to drive me to the shop.”

“I’m finished—for now. But I might have more questions for you tomorrow, Miss Gallagher.” Lewis sent Tucker another glowering look, then turned away.

“Do you mind?” Sarah was watching Lewis stalk toward the fire marshal; her voice was distant.

“Of course not. I’ll be glad to drive you to your shop.” Deliberately, Tucker reached out and took her arm in a light grip. “Why don’t we go now, before it gets any colder. You must be frozen.”

She looked down at his hand on her arm, then raised her gaze to his face. For a moment, her expression was…peculiar. To Tucker, she seemed both disturbed and resigned, as though she had no choice but to accept something she knew would bring only trouble. Bad trouble. He didn’t like it.

“You can trust me,” he said.

Matter-of-factly, she said, “It has nothing to do with trust.”

He didn’t know how to respond, either to that or to her oddly fatalistic smile. Opting to let it go for now, Tucker led her to his car and saw her in the passenger side, then went around and got in himself. As soon as he started the engine, he turned the heater on high, not because she was shivering but because she should have been.

“The shop’s on Emerson?”

She nodded. “It’s called Old Things.”

“I think I know where it is.” Tucker put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb, and as he did so he caught a glimpse of a tall man in a black leather jacket slipping around behind a wooden fence two houses down from the smoking remains of Sarah’s house. His foot touched the brake, and Tucker tensed. He didn’t know why, but every sense was instantly alert; he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stirring. When he looked quickly at Sarah, he found her looking after the man, her face still.

“Did you see him?”

She nodded. “Probably just a curious neighbor embarrassed at being caught gawking.”

The car was barely moving now, and Tucker hesitated either to stop completely or go on. “You don’t really believe that.”

“It’s what the police would say.” She shrugged.

She was probably right, he thought, especially since the man had seemingly vanished; when the car drew abreast of the wooden fence, there was no sign of him. Tucker took his foot off the brake and continued down the quiet residential street. But the hairs on his nape were still quivering a warning. “You asked me earlier if I was the one who’d been watching you. What makes you think somebody has been?”

“I know somebody has. For a week, maybe a little longer. I’ve caught a glimpse of him several times.”

“That man back there? The one in the black jacket?”

“Maybe. I’ve never been close enough to get a good look at him. There could be more than one, for all I know. But always at least one.”

“Why didn’t you mention that to Lewis when he asked if you knew of anyone who might want to hurt you?”

Sarah shrugged again. “He never made a threatening move. Never came close. He just watched me.”

“Stalkers just watch, Sarah, at least in the beginning.”

“He isn’t a stalker.” She didn’t react at all to Tucker’s use of her first name. “He isn’t obsessed. There’s something very…businesslike about him. Something coldly methodical.”

“As if watching you is his job? A private investigator, maybe?”

“Maybe. But I don’t know who would have hired him, or why.”

“You said you’d been getting a lot of unwanted attention lately. People who came to you for help.”

“Yes. So?”

“So maybe you gave somebody the wrong advice and somehow made an enemy. An investigator could have been hired to look for something that could be used against you in court.”

“Like what? That I use imported tea leaves instead of domestic?” Without waiting for a response to that dry question, she went on in the same tone. “I don’t offer advice. I don’t give readings. I don’t take money from anybody unless they’re buying a Regency table or a Colonial chair. I’ve never owned a crystal ball or a deck of tarot cards. I don’t claim to be able to solve problems, or I would have started with my own. So I don’t see how anyone could claim I’d wronged them.”

“All right. But if you’re being watched, and if he’s a pro, then somebody had to hire him. There must be a reason.”

“I suppose.”

As he stopped the car to wait at a traffic light, Tucker turned his head and looked at her. “Any trouble with an ex-husband or lover?”

She seemed almost to flinch, but her answer was steady enough. “No.”

“You’re sure?” he probed.

Sarah looked at him. “I’ve never been married. As for lovers, since you ask, I’ve had only two in my life. One was back in college; we broke up amicably and still send each other Christmas and birthday cards. The other decided back in April, a few weeks after I got out of the hospital, that he didn’t want to live with a woman who freaked out every time he got near a railroad crossing. So he requested a transfer to the West Coast.”

“And?” Tucker kept his gaze on her face, his attention caught by the thread of pain in her otherwise expressionless voice.

“And he was killed two weeks later. At a railroad crossing.” She turned her head to look forward, adding, “The light’s green.”