He was right behind her as they climbed the stairs and she unlocked the door to her unit. Inside, everything appeared just the way she’d left it. He parked her bike near the door as she dropped the bag and her backpack onto the coffee table. “Are you going to tell me why the hell you’ve been acting so weird?”

“I just couldn’t wait to get you home,” he said, pulling her close. In her ear, he whispered, “Play along.” Then said in a normal voice, “Didn’t I loan you a textbook, you know, the one on DNA analysis?”

“What book?” she asked, but he was already looking at the bookcase near the fireplace.

“The one you promised you’d bring back, oh…I think I see it.” He smiled and slapped her playfully on the butt, then headed to the other side of the room.

Wondering what the hell he was up to, Kristi did as he asked, opening the bags, removing the cartons, and locating spoons and napkins. From the corner of her eye, she watched Jay walk to the very corner of the room, hoist himself onto the bottom half of the bookcase and prop some of her books up against the fireplace.

“Here we go,” he said while she scooped the jambalaya onto their plates. He shoved several books closer to the fireplace, then wiggled a brick loose from its place to expose what appeared to be a black box, the size of a cell phone or pager.

She started to say something but caught him shaking his head. What the hell had he found?

Tara’s cell phone?

Then why all the secrecy?

A pager?

Pocket recorder?

Her blood froze in her veins. Had someone been recording her conversations? She thought back to all the conversations she’d had, one-sided on the phone, or…Oh, no, last night with Jay…!

“I guess you don’t have it,” he said, replacing the brick and hopping to the floor. “I’ll get it later. Let’s eat…. Hey, how about some music? You have a radio?”

“My iPod player.”

“Good.” He found the player, clipped in the iPod, and turned the volume up loud enough to cover any of their conversation. Stomach in knots, shock giving way to anger, she sat on the edge of the daybed, and he pulled the big chair up to the opposite side of the coffee table, his back to the fireplace.

“You’ve been bugged,” he said, hunched over the spicy seafood and rice dish, his voice barely audible over the music. “That little black box is a camera.”

She nearly dropped her fork. Someone had been watching her, was trying to see her even now? As she studied, or watched television or slept or…Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, she looked up at Jay and wanted to fall through the floor.

“State of the art,” he said.