She’d sold this house, which thankfully had been bought in the eighties, before the real estate boom in Florida. So despite the sluggish current housing market, and the fact that her mother had been murdered in the master bedroom, she had still been able to sell it for a substantial profit. Money she needed, a nest egg she was grateful for, at the same time she despised that it had come to her at the expense of losing her mother. Glancing around, Sara ran her eyes over the tired beige carpet, the wicker furniture her mother had loved so much, the excessive plants and dried floral arrangements that crowded shelves and walls. She had already taken anything she personally cared about, and anything of real value. Her friend Jocelyn was going to dispose of what she’d left behind before the new owners took possession in two weeks.

Sara hadn’t been able to wait. She had to get out. Now.

Sliding her purse strap back up her arm, she took a deep breath, fought the growing sense of panic and hysteria. Tried to drive back the need to run, not walk, away from Naples, her life, her mother’s murder, and painful memories. She was leaving, fleeing to New Orleans really, but she could kid herself that it was logical to seek answers there. That emotion played the smaller factor in her decision.

Yet she knew she was lying to herself, and they had told her in rehab that it was a pattern she needed to break if she intended to live a clean life, free from the grip of painkillers and tranquilizers.

She wanted that fresh start. Now.

Heading toward the front door, Sara reached back and grabbed the newspaper off the sofa, folding it up into thirds. Better not leave that lying around for Jocelyn or anyone else to see. That article sitting in this house revealed too much about her and her fragile state of mind.

And the one big lie she told everyone else, but didn’t actually believe herself, was that she was okay.

That she would ever be okay again.

He wasn’t expecting her. It was obvious by the look of appalled impatience on his face as he stood in the doorway of the gated courtyard. And then there was the fact that he said flatly, “You’re not supposed to be here today.”