After high school he went to college out West and worked on a ranch but was too homesick to stay. His was a tight-knit clan, just like the Cartwrights. The lonesome cowboy came back after graduation, got a landscaping job, saved up for years, found some investors, then bought a large piece of wooded property with a huge lake and built a log cabin resort, promising a serene experience in a rustic setting.

Tapper’s advertisement for his venture pointed out that the first log cabin in this country had been built in Swedesboro, New Jersey, and although the Jersey Shore was wonderful, the woods were great, too. “You can swing from a hammock nestled in the trees, sunbathe on the lake, ride horses on our trails. Go back in time and live the good life. Forget the modern world.”

Cleo had found the camp online. When she drove away from Edna’s, she was looking for another place to hide.

After what she’d gone through the last several months, she wanted to get away from Hollywood. The Hamptons was Hollywood East, so she looked for a place at the Jersey Shore. The original plan was for Cleo and her best friend, Daisy, to drive cross-country together and spend the month at Edna’s. They’d relax at the pool, walk the beach, go into New York City to see shows. Then Daisy, a struggling actress who never begrudged Cleo her success, was cast in a movie. So Cleo went alone. She packed up her SUV and drove from Los Angeles to New Jersey. She checked into motels along the way using credit cards she’d taken out under the name Connie Long, so no one would bother her. It was a grueling, lonely trip. Finally, she reached Edna’s. Edna came running out of the house and greeted her with outstretched arms. Lonesome as Cleo felt, there was no way she was going to get friendly with the woman who she could tell right away was a busybody.

Cleo swam and relaxed and read but had no company. She spoke to Daisy on the phone every few days and received occasional e-mails from her parents who were in a far-flung area of eastern Europe. But she was itching for company. She ventured into town and made the mistake of letting her guard down. She chatted with people at the coffee shop and the pub and at the supermarket. It wasn’t long before she came home at night to find a dozen roses with wilted petals and thorny stems thrown inside the gate.

Just like she’d found on her car in Los Angeles.

She was terrified.