And their new neighborhood of Palm Mirage Creek, slivered between Coral Gables and Coral Terrace, had to be one of the most beautiful in the entire country. Great weather, little crime, close to top-ranked schools—a good place to raise a family.

Now wide-awake, Lisa put her book down to get a drink of water from the fridge downstairs.

Her phone and Jeff’s were charging on their night tables. Lisa took hers, pulled on her robe over her wispy nightgown, stepped from the bedroom and switched on the hall light. She checked her phone. No new messages.

Downstairs she turned on more lights and for a moment stood in disbelief that this house was really theirs. She was thankful that Jeff’s corporation had covered most of the moving expenses—rare in his profession these days—to transfer them from the Cleveland office to the larger Miami office. His higher salary had picked up the rest of the costs.

But they still carried a lot of debt, and it made Jeff nervous that she was now earning less, even though she believed that with his increase in pay they could get it down in a few years.

On the main floor, she moved through the living room with its vaulted ceiling, the oak coffee table and the lamps. The sofa looked so old here; they really needed a new one. She paused for a moment, then walked across the tiled floor of the grand foyer and, to be safe, tested the front door.

It was locked.

All the front windows were secure.

Lisa switched on more lights, went through the kitchen with its granite countertops, gleaming stainless-steel appliances, the oversize island and walk-in pantry. The kitchen door to the side entrance and double garage was secure, too.

So were all the rear windows.

For good measure, she checked the pantry—nothing but unopened boxes from the move.

She got a glass of cold water from the fridge, feeling its icy tentacles soothing her dry throat, cooling her stomach. Satisfied, she started back to bed when she heard a faint noise and stopped.

What was that?

Holding her breath, she strained to listen. Feeling vulnerable, she considered a weapon—a bat, a cleaver, something. No guns were in the house; she and Jeff had an aversion to them.

She heard nothing more.

Lisa wished their system were in place. The company Jeff had hired was booked up and coming to install it next week. Maybe she’d ask him to call them in the morning, request they speed things up.

Calm down. All the doors and windows are locked.

She reasoned that she was still getting acquainted with their new home. The sounds could be the air-conditioning system, the hot-water tank, or even coming from outside—something to do with the pool, or a passing plane. How far were they from Miami Airport?

It could be a million things.

I’m sure it’s nothing.