NEAR MIDNIGHT, KEEGAN thought he’d let Nora out one last time before they settled in. Without turning on the light, he went through the kitchen to the back door and called the dog’s name. She jumped up from where she’d been sprawled drowsing on the cool oak floor and trotted over to him. He opened the back door for her, and she hopped down the steps into the dark garden.

Keegan stood in the open doorway and looked down at Ormsby’s mansion, wondering which of the many dark windows might be Eve’s bedroom. He imagined her decorously reclined on a canopied bed, lovely and alone. He scolded himself and sat down on the top step, his bare feet on the prickly, dying lawn. He’d always felt a deep disdain for those gray-haired men who ogled every passing young waitress and cigarette girl—and it irked him to think he might be in danger of joining their ranks.

But it wasn’t like that, he told himself. Not in the least. Sure, Eve was young, and she was pretty. What was the point of pretending she was neither? But his interest in her didn’t reflect poorly on his character. It was a natural human appreciation for youth and beauty. It was like appreciating an oil painting hanging in a wealthy client’s home without wanting to possess it. He could find Eve interesting without being interested in her. But as he reasoned this way, he knew he was splitting hairs to ease his conscience. He tugged up a blade of long grass from between his feet and wound it around his finger. The lawn was dying. He needed to water it.

Somewhere, deep in the hills above him, a coyote yipped forlornly. Another coyote, somewhere farther away, joined the feral chorus. This was their hour. They were out hunting; it was time to get the dog back inside.

Keegan flicked the blade of dry grass away and stood.

Before he could call Nora’s name, he noticed a dark sedan pulled to the side of his own road where the gravel cutoff led down to Ormsby’s back gate. The car was parked facing the mansion. A cigarette glowed in the driver’s-side window, and someone sat in the passenger seat as well. A couple of teens, Keegan told himself. They must have driven up from Sunset for a romantic tryst and a pack of Camels—but he knew that was unlikely on a Tuesday night.