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both feel better when you’re refreshed.”
    “I won’t be able to sleep.”
    “You’re such a baby.” Georgia rolled her eyes. “Marla, I should go with him. If he talks to Chris tonight, then we’ll all get a good rest. Liesl has two beds in her room. She offered one to me if I wanted to stay at the hotel. Why don’t I ring her and see if the offer still stands? It’ll just be for the one night,” she said in an apologetic tone.
    “Okay.” Marla would be just as glad to have one less guest. After Georgia instructed her on what to bring from her suitcase the next day, she left.
    Inside her car, she turned the air-conditioning knob to its coldest temperature and put on the radio so she’d stay awake for the drive west. Her mind numb, she craved the comfort of home and prayed Pam’s parents would be asleep.
    Twenty minutes later, she saw that her prayers were answered when she entered her kitchen. Someone had left the light on, but only Spooks ran to greet her. Putting her purse on the counter, she stooped to pet him. His tongue darted out to lick her fingers. She could always count on his affection, she thought with a fond tug at his fur. When she straightened, the poodle trotted off to sniff at a pile of flight bags dumped on the floor. Holding her breath, Marla tuned her ears to the sounds in the house. Only the tick of the wall clock and the drone of the cooling unit filled the silence. Good, she hadn’t disturbed her visitors.
    Moving quietly, she slipped past the closed door of the guest room on her way to the master suite.
    Her shoulders relaxed. Drained of energy, she prepared for bed in record time, and fell asleep soon after her head hit the pillow.
    Dreams engulfed her: Bertha Kravitz’s grinning face one minute and then the old lady’s sightless stare the next. She saw again the wide-set eyes, pupils dilated, gazing blankly at the ceiling. Bertha’s bagged head, immersed in perm solution, lolled back against the sink. Her face was distorted by an ugly grimace. Marla touched her hand, feeling for a pulse, the flesh feeling like a cold, dead fish. Images swirled and collided, mingling past and present.
    She screamed, jerking upright, covered in sweat. The screams continued, but they didn’t come from her mouth.
    Her mind reoriented, and she focused on her bedroom where sunlight streamed through the cracks in the drapes.
    Someone shrieked again, and she leapt out of bed.

Chapter Four
    Thrusting sleep-tossed hair behind her ears, Marla dashed into the kitchen from where the shrieks emanated. An older woman with brassy blond hair clutched her nose in front of the sliding glass doors that led outside. Beside her stood a tall, lean fellow wearing a collared shirt with a cardigan and looking very much like Mr. Rogers of television fame. Marla’s poodle danced about their ankles, nudging for attention.
    “What’s wrong?” Marla said, foregoing introductions to Pam’s parents.
    “This glass door, that’s what’s wrong,” Justine Keller retorted. “I walked right into it. My nose, did I break it?” she asked her husband.
    “No, darling, I think you’ll just end up with a bruise.” He had a pleasant, smiling mouth and graying temples that contrasted with his dark hair.
    “You must be Marla.” Justine’s scornful gaze raked Marla’s rumpled nightshirt. “Don’t you think you should put a big sign on this door, so people can see it’s there?”
    She swallowed, feeling like a schoolgirl. “You’re right, I’ll have to add decals for visitors. Floridians are used to sliding glass doors.”
    “You don’t say.” Justine’s hand dropped from her face. “I suppose I’ll live.”
    “Here, let me show you how to unlock the door. Spooks needs to go out, anyway.”
    The cream-coated dog barked in response. Unlatching the lock, she slid it open and let him out to do his business.
    “If you’re okay, I’d like to get dressed,” she said, feeling embarrassed by her lack of proper attire