After finishing the article, Zoe glanced out the window at her beloved park. With the morning sun shining, it was hard to believe anything bad could happen there. She checked the time and reached for her watering can. Two slightly parched ficus trees stood tall on either side of the window. “Which one of you is thirsty?” she said to her plants while dousing them with water. When she emptied the can she headed back into the kitchen. The original wood floors and kitchen cabinets had recently been painted a pale gray and new handles put on all the drawers and doors. Conner had insisted they replace the old painted wooden countertops with white-and-gray-streaked marble to modernize the room. That home improvement had gone way over budget but Conner convinced her that giving their ancient kitchen a facelift was money well spent. They had used up almost all of the remaining inheritance Zoe’s father had left her for the renovation.

“Trust me, babe, this apartment is our biggest asset,” said Conner. “We’ve got to keep it up-to-date or it will lose value. You’ll love it when we finish. You’ll see.”

She watered the two purple-and-white orchids sitting proudly on the windowsill in her kitchen. Moving into the dining room that seated sixteen, she sprinkled water into the ivy planter at the center of the long, dark wooden table that had been her grandfather’s.

Watering complete, she put on her running clothes and left the apartment. When the elevator doors opened in the lobby, Don the doorman was by the front door peering onto the street through the glass. Red and white police lights flashed outside.

“What’s going on?” said Zoe, walking over to him and looking out through the glass.

“Not sure,” said Don. “All I know is, there are cops everywhere. Must be ten squad cars lined up and down Central Park West. Heard on the radio a few minutes ago that some woman got killed in the park late last night. Must be that.”

“I just read about it. You think it was the West Side Strangler?”

“I heard they’re closing all the entrances on the north and west sides of the park to keep people out,” said Don. “At least that’s what the doorman next door told me.”

“Why would any woman go into Central Park late at night? That’s crazy. Everyone knows the only people in there then are criminals, pervs and drug addicts.”

“It could be the West Side Strangler. How many has he killed now? Six women since December, I think. Guess this makes number seven.”

“This is a depressing way to start the day,” said Zoe, adjusting her KN95 mask loops around her ears.

“If you’re going for a run, Ms. Brandt, you’ll want to go west over by the river and stay clear of all this messy business in the park.”