Of course it was unlocked, he thought, annoyed. He’d left her a note that morning, telling her none of his crew would be there that day and to keep the doors locked. Senseless woman, he thought as he shoved the door open. Why couldn’t she get it through her head that she was completely isolated here? Too many things had happened, and simply by living in this house, she was in the center of them.

Quiet. Too damn quiet, Cliff realized as annoyance began to fade into anxiety. The dog wasn’t barking. The house had that echoing, empty feeling almost everyone can sense but can’t explain. Though instinct told him no one was there, he began to go from room to room, calling her. Her name bounced back off the walls in his own voice and taunted him.

Where the hell was she, Cliff demanded as he took the stairs two at a time to check the second floor. He didn’t like to admit that he could feel panic at nothing more than coming home to an empty house, but panic was exactly what he felt. Every day that week he’d been sure he’d had a crew, or part of one, working outside until he’d been there. He hadn’t wanted her left alone, but because he couldn’t explain it, Cliff had broken the ritual that day. And now he couldn’t find her.

“Maggie!” Desperately, he searched the second floor, not even certain what he expected, or wanted, to find. He’d never experienced this kind of raw, basic fear. He only knew the house was empty and his woman was gone. A pair of her shoes sat carelessly in the center of the bedroom rug. A blouse was tossed negligently over a chair. The earrings he’d watched her take off the night before still lay on the dresser, beside a silver-backed brush engraved with her mother’s initials. The room held her scent; it always did.

When he saw the new tiles in the bathroom, he tried to calm himself. In her helter-skelter way, she’d started a new project. But where in the hell—

Then, in the bowl of the sink, he saw something that stopped his heart. Against the pristine white porcelain were three drops of blood. He stared while panic swirled through him, making his head swim and his skin ice.

From somewhere outside, the dog began to bark frantically. Cliff was racing down the steps, not even aware that he called her name again and again.

He saw her as soon as he burst through the back door. She was coming slowly through the woods to the east, the dog dancing around her legs, leaping and nipping. She had her hands in her pockets, her head down. His mind took in every detail while the combination of fear and relief made his legs weak.