I heard the door open in the outer office.

“Kinsey?” The voice was Taryn Sizemore’s.

“Just the person I was hoping to see.”

She appeared in the doorway and then stood transfixed as she took in the sight. “Oh, wow. Poor you. Ned Lowe’s been here.”

“Thanks. I’d be interested in your reasons for saying so.”

She wore a starched white cotton shirt with the collar turned up, belted over tight jeans. Big bracelets, big earrings, high-heeled boots with buckles up the sides. I could still see the roller shapes in her shoulder-length curls. I’d look ridiculous in that outfit. She looked great. I envied her black leather shoulder bag, which was bigger than mine and appeared to have more compartments.

She dropped her bag on the floor. “It’s his style: hostile and aggressive. Wherever he is now, he knows what he’s done to you and he’s happy with himself. You’ll never walk in here again without bracing yourself on the off chance he’s been in while you were gone.”

“What a shitheel.”

“This is just for openers. There’s probably more where this came from.”

“Oh joy.”

She chose one of the two visitors’ chairs and took a seat, pausing to align the chairs so they were parallel. Her eyes strayed to the window blinds. “You mind?”

“Have at it. Eventually, I’ll tidy up, but I thought I’d sit here and appreciate the care and planning that went into this.”

She crossed to the window and adjusted the blinds, corrected the blinds on the other window, closed the file drawers, and then sat down again. “You must be his type, the same way I was.”

“That makes three of us, including Pete’s widow, Ruth.”

“He paid her a visit, too?”

“She found her door standing open when she came home from work. Scared the hell out of her. I can’t figure out how he knew about me. It looks like he’s been getting into her place to listen to phone messages and diddle around with her things, but that doesn’t explain how he came up with my name and address.”

“It’s probably something obvious, but you’ll worry about it for days, which is all part of his plan. Aren’t you going to ask why I’m here?”

“Who cares? I’m glad to have company while I’m freaking out.”

“I should let you decompress.”

“I don’t want to decompress. I want to call the police.”

She slid her watch around on her wrist so she could check the time. “Call ’em later. Took me eight minutes to walk over here. We’ll assume another eight on the return. I have a client coming in on her lunch hour, so I need to get back in time to intercept her.”

“I hope you’re here to help.”

“I am,” she said. “Feels odd, though. I’m not used to being on this side of the confessional.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“I’m tired of having Ned rule my life. You want to know about my relationship with him, I’m happy to oblige.”