In the shadow of a building on the west side of Rittenhouse Square, I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt over my head. I leaned a shoulder against the worn brick, the rough texture catching on the cotton fibers of my shirt like Velcro. Taking in the cool fall night outdoors was no hardship. The small patch of green was mostly empty, except for a man walking his dog. At the end of a retractable leash, the corgi sniffed the curb with unabashed enthusiasm. Some straggling late diners spilled out of a closing restaurant, two couples that walked slowly, as if digesting too much food and alcohol was requiring all their concentration.

Winter and its long, frigid nights were coming. This week’s mild weather was merely a temporary reprieve, a delay of the unpleasant and inevitable months of cold darkness breathing down Philadelphia’s neck.

I wasn’t the only one watching the square. From my corner location with its clear view of the Rittenhouse, I could also see the unmarked police car parked in front of Smith & Wollensky’s.

I’d observed Conor Sullivan walk into the hotel earlier. My prediction had come true. He’d gone to see Louisa almost immediately after being released. What did the police think of that? Did they question the nature of their relationship? I certainly hoped so. I’d all but written it down for them.

Across the street, Conor Sullivan and Dr. Hancock came out of the hotel. He was holding a pink leash connected to that ugly dog he’d taken in. He took Dr. Hancock’s hand.

As soon as the dog had done its business, they hurried back inside. Sullivan’s protective stance didn’t escape my notice. Echoing the old newspaper clipping from last spring, he kept his body between Dr. Hancock and the park, as if shielding her from danger. Were the cops watching? Yes, they were.

Perfect.

CHAPTER 13

13

Ugh. A heavy weight settled on Conor’s chest. He opened his eyes. Kirra stared down at him, front paws planted on his solar plexus, tongue lolling.

“Good morning.”

She wagged her tail stub.

He squinted at the brightness pouring in through the huge expanse of windows in Louisa’s living room. He was on her sofa. After their walk and Louisa’s sudden attack of anxiety, they’d returned to her apartment. Her building was as secure as possible, but he hadn’t wanted to leave until she’d calmed down. He must have fallen asleep while she ate her dinner.

Nudging the dog aside, he sat up and stretched. A cotton blanket fell down to his waist. She’d tucked a pillow behind his head too.