I hadn’t done it on purpose—at least, I didn’t think I had—but here I was, just five blocks away from the apartment on Oak.

I knew I should stop myself, knew I should turn around and go home, but I wasn’t ready to face Keith again, and I certainly didn’t feel like picking up any strangers.

With my fingers drumming lightly against the steering wheel, I accepted what I was doing, headed toward Oak Street, and began to sing a little song, just under my breath, a soft, rhythmic, self-deprecating chant.

You’re losing your mind. You’re actually crazy. This is not a normal thing to do!

Tap.

You’re losing your mind. You’re actually crazy. This is not a normal thing to do!

Tap.

I kept humming and tapping as I drove down the street toward the apartment. When I got there, I slowed down and pulled over, pressing tightly against the parked cars so the traffic behind me could get by, before shifting into park. Then I leaned across the passenger seat and peered at the building.

115 West Oak.

The building had seemed taller, statelier, and more manicured than it did now, like something out of a storybook. Today, I could see that it was an average though attractive building sandwiched in between two equally attractive three-flats on either side of it. As I sat there, my mind flashed back to Saturday night, when Hooks had stood there, riveted by the sight of the woman in the window.

I leaned even farther across the seat and angled my head to look up at the second-floor window—

And jolted back when I saw a tall, slender figure near the same spot where I’d seen the woman on Saturday night.

Shit!

I breathed heavily for a few moments and then dared to lean over again, wondering if she was still there. I strained my neck toward the passenger window and craned up, letting out a breath when I saw who was in the window.

Or, rather, what was there.

A lamp.

Curvy base, with a short, white lampshade.

Not a person at all.

A giggle burst out of me, and I leaned back against the headrest. I deserved this, to be cowering in my front seat, hiding from an inanimate object. I put the car in Drive, waited for traffic to clear, and pulled away.

Of course the woman with the sleek blond bob was not still standing in the window since Saturday night. That would be both weird and insane.

No, she was probably in her second Pilates class of the day.

Or at the spa.

Or maybe she was—

Standing right there on the street.

I put on a hard brake and stared out at a woman fifteen feet away from my car at the entrance to a small park, a half block or so away from the apartment I’d just left.