Hannah had finished the last of her wine and was about to rouse herself to climb in under the covers when she noticed that one of the cars in the visitors’ parking lot was idling, its exhaust pipe sending up plumes of white against the dark night sky. Its headlights were off and that was odd, unless someone was taking a very long time to say goodbye to his date. She could see only one occupant, a bulky figure behind the wheel that she assumed was a man. As she watched, she saw a reflection glinting off two round lenses in front of his face. Binoculars? Or eyeglasses? Hannah couldn’t tell at this distance, but the fact that no one else was in the car made her nervous.

Hannah stared at the car, memorizing its shape. It was a small compact in a dark color, but it was parked too far away to identify the manufacturer. The roof looked lighter than the body, and Hannah assumed that it was covered with snow. This car had been parked for a while and the driver appeared to be watching her building.

There were only four units in her building. Phil and Sue Plotnik lived below her and there was no earthly reason why anyone would sit in a parked car to watch their place. Phil was home tonight. She’d seen his car in the garage when she’d driven in and she’d heard their new baby fussing softly as she’d climbed the stairs to her unit. Hannah’s other neighbors were equally unremarkable. Mrs. Canfield, an elderly widow, had the bottom unit next to the Plotniks. She lived on her husband’s retirement money and gave piano lessons during the week. Above her were Marguerite and Clara Hollenbeck, two middle-aged unmarried sisters who were very active at Redeemer Lutheran Church. As far as Hannah knew, there wasn’t a breath of gossip about them, except for the time they’d washed the altar cloths with a red blouse of Clara’s and they’d come out pink.

Hannah felt a chill as she stared at the car and its motionless driver. There was only one unit the man could be watching and it was hers.

Ron’s killer! The thought struck Hannah like a lightning bolt of dread. Bill had told her to be careful about asking questions and she thought she had. But what if the killer had the misguided notion that she was hot on his trail? Bill’s words came back to haunt her: If he killed once, he won’t hesitate to kill again.

The security light had been on this morning. Hannah shivered as she remembered. She’d assumed that a bird had set it off, but perhaps she’d been wrong. Had Ron’s killer attempted to get into her condo?

Hannah swallowed past the lump of fear in her throat, took a deep breath, and forced herself to think rationally. She really hated to call Bill and roust him out of his comfortable bed. Bill would race right over here to question the guy, but she’d feel like a fool if the driver had some perfectly good reason for being there. But what reason could there be for sitting in a car in the dead of night, alone in the snow?