Wasn’t she? she thought as she looked up at the second-floor window and saw the yellow curtains. What felt like a memory nudged her, but refused to come into focus. She was a part of something here and damned if she wasn’t going to find out what.

Opening the car door, she stepped out and moved through the tall weeds toward the house—ever vigilant of rattlesnakes.

Hurriedly she climbed the steps, glad to be where she could see what might be next to her. When she reached the front door, though, she paused.

Yesterday she’d locked the front door as they’d left. She remembered testing it, standing on the porch with Russell. It had been locked.

But now as she reached for her key, she saw that the door was slightly ajar. Goose bumps spread over her flesh even in the breathless heat. Her blood pounded in her ears and yet past it she could hear the annoying weather vane moving restlessly in the searing wind.

A new sound set her teeth on edge. The rhythmic clinking of metal on metal coming from behind the house.

Dulcie stepped to the edge of the porch and looked toward the creek and the property beyond her own. Through the branches of the cottonwoods, she could see a man with a sledgehammer, pounding what looked like pipe into the ground on the other side of the creek.

He stopped as if sensing her watching him and looked in her direction. She couldn’t see his face under the dark hat he wore, but she could feel his hard, staring eyes on her, his gaze hotter than the spring day.

She stepped back quickly, feeling strangely violated. How was it possible she could feel both hatred and lust, fear and shock and pain in a look?

She knew what Renada would say. This place was making her imagination run wild. Dulcie shook her head at her own foolishness but was thankful when the man resumed his banging.

Just the thought of Renada made her too aware that she hadn’t called her friend. Nor had she answered the messages Renada had left. She promised herself she would call her tonight, if only to let her know she was all right.

She knew why she hadn’t called and told her about what had been going on. Renada would be on the next plane out and Dulcie would have loved nothing better. But it would mean taking Renada away from her design classes and something she’d wanted for far too long.

Walking to the front of the house again, Dulcie took a breath and, holding it, flung open the door. It was impossible to tell if there were any new tracks in the dust.

She stepped in, leaving the door open, and moved cautiously toward the kitchen in the back. She hadn’t taken two steps when the front door slammed with a loud bang.