A woman pushing a baby carriage while trying to walk some kind of big dog, a Lab mix, she thought, was on the far side of the street. She also spied a man leaning over the rail of the third-floor porch. Smoking a cigarette and staring at her. Hard. Or was it her imagination? Were her nerves jangled because of Milo and the fact that Donovan Caldwell had died today. It was all kind of weird. Outré. Unnerving. Silently she told herself she was just a bundle of nerves and jumping at shadows, not in small measure due to Milo Tillman, her own personal stalker.

Was it even safe to deal with him?

What if he had a weapon?

What then?

She glanced up at the apartment building again and saw the gray-haired guy still watching her. Friend or foe?

Dear God, she was letting her imagination run wild with her. Now she was seeing evil in someone doing nothing threatening. But as Milo approached, she felt herself tense.

“Let’s go somewhere where we can sit down,” he suggested. “I think there’s a café two blocks down.”

Like this was a date or something? Two friends having coffee? No way!

“I’m sorry,” she said. She needed to keep her relationship with this man professional. She’d crossed the barriers before and blurred the lines several times. Max had been a mistake, and she probably was more involved with Tanisha and Selma than she should be. They’d become friends. But Milo? The Peeping Tom? No way. His excuse for peering through her window was flimsy at best. “I really don’t have a lot of time. So what’s going on? What’s happening that couldn’t wait until our next meeting?”

“I, um, I lied about that,” he admitted, and her gut clenched.

“You lied?”

“About needing to talk about Myra. Well kind of... and about watching you.” He scratched the back of his neck nervously. “I think you’re in danger.”

“Me?” What was he talking about? Where was this going?

“I’ve followed you,” he admitted as a car left the parking lot of Jase’s apartment building, nosing into the street where the traffic was picking up.

“I know.” She glanced up to the third floor of the building. The smoker was still there, observing the ground below and, she felt, keeping an eye on her. All the better considering.

“And I’ve seen you with him.”

“With who?”

“Jacob.”

“Jacob?” she repeated, confused. “I don’t know a Jacob.”

He stared at her as if she were nuts. “But I saw you together. You know, after the meeting. The other night?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”