She needed some time alone, with no phone, no crises. Just her, in her apartment, tending to her plants and trees. They needed her too. She’d been neglecting them lately. Small wonder with the little time she was able to spend here.

She loved her top-floor apartment. Originally it had been designed as an artist’s loft, with half a dozen skylights offering light from both north and south, so it perfectly suited the needs of her plants. And its West Village location on Charles Street—a street with trees—was convenient to the Center.

As the bell sounded again, she looked up from the pear sapling she’d been about to cut. Someone in the foyer downstairs, ringing the button to her apartment. She’d figured the first one to be an accident, but this sounded like someone here to see her.

Who on earth… ?

She hardly ever had company. Couldn’t remember the last time someone had been here.

Alicia rose and stepped over to the door and studied the intercom panel on the wall to the right. How did this thing work again…? Two buttons—one labeled speaker, the other labeled buzzer. She pressed the one under speaker.

“Yes?”

“Miss Clayton?” said a male voice. “This is Will Matthews, the police detective from yesterday. Can I speak to you for a few minutes?”

Detective Matthews, she thought with a start. What does he want?

He was the one who’d taken her statement. Youngish, about her age, maybe a little older, he’d been kind and sympathetic yesterday, waiting patiently while she got over the shakes and adrenaline letdown that followed the incident.

But why was he here? And why now?

Irrationally, she feared he might have learned of her plans to burn down the house. She couldn’t see how, but maybe they’d traced her movements, connected her to Jack or to the people she’d asked about contacting an arsonist. If—

“Miss Clayton?” he said. “Are you there?”

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I’m here. You just took me by surprise, is all. I didn’t expect you. What’s this about?”

“Can we speak upstairs… in your place?”

“Of course,” she said. “Sorry.”

She pressed the buzzer button and held it for a few seconds, then stood back and began to pace.

Be calm, she told herself. It’s just about that creep yesterday. Has to be. This detective couldn’t possibly know anything else.

She glanced down at her legs and gasped when she realized she was wearing only panties from the waist down.

She rushed into the bedroom and grabbed the bottom half of her sweatsuit. She caught sight of herself in the mirror over the dresser.

You’re a mess, she thought. Look at that hair.