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pressed the palms of my hands against my knees.
I took a couple of even breaths. "Someone killed Marge on
Wednesday. And I was the one who found her."
    The first curse I'd ever heard him utter ripped from Tyler's
mouth. His eyes turned cold, scary, and the smooth brown
skin on his cheeks tightened.

    "Why didn't you call me?" His voice was soft, yet I knew
my failure to turn to him bothered him, maybe even hurt.
    My exasperated sigh blew loose hair from my forehead.
"Because I didn't have time to even think. As if that wasn't bad
enough, Marge left me everything-all that money, the business, even that new cedar, glass, and steel house of hers."
    "And Lila thinks you did it."
    "I guess you know her pretty well."
    "I do, but it's a standard thing to suspect whoever benefits most from the murder." He fiddled with the exercise ball
he kept at hand. "It's also common for them to look at the
husband in these cases. I bet Lila's giving Steve Norwalk a
hard time too."
    I studied the cranes in the watercolor over his head. "Last
I heard, he was out of town since Wednesday at a teacher's
seminar or something. That's why he missed the Gerrity sale.
That sounds to me like a pretty good alibi."
    Tyler stood, and out the corner of my eye, I noticed his
frown. "I don't know why you're so upset. It's not a matter of
alibis or anything. You didn't hurt Marge, and soon enough
Lila's going to realize it. So chill."
    I stood and paced from one end of the room to the other.
"You don't understand. It's not just that. But I'll tell you, your
friend, Detective Lila Tsu? She's a pretty scary character."
    Tyler smiled and crossed his arms.
    I ignored his reaction. "On top of everything else, the
mansion's off-limits. It's the scene of a crime, and the police
have it cordoned off. It can't be sold, so Noreen Daventry can't
buy it. Since she can't buy it, she can't hire me to redesign it.
Since she can't hire me-"

    "I get the picture. But come on. I'm sure you can get a job
or two if you really try. It might not be as flashy as that big
old place, but fixing up a basement family room will pay
some bills."
    "The Stokers did hire me to do their living and dining
rooms." Why did I keep forgetting the couple who'd be my
first real customers? "I should call them and take a look at
the space."
    When Tyler didn't respond, I shot him a glance. Uh-oh.
I knew that look. It was the one that announced outgoing
questions.
    "What's the real problem, Haley?" he asked. "Is this too
close to what happened four years ago?"
    My hard-won progress vanished. I again felt my attacker's strength. I don't think I screamed, but I might have,
because a sharp sound rang out. All I knew was pain and
fear.
    My ears buzzed. I shivered. I wrapped my arms around me,
but they couldn't protect me. A gentle force at my back moved
me forward. Like a robot, I went. I was told to sit. I did.
    Desperation almost smothered me, but its return somehow
made me react. From somewhere deep inside, I dredged up a
spark of anger. That I could handle, so I clung to the flicker. I
could beat the confusion, pain, and fear if I stoked the flicker
into a full-blown furnace blaze.
    I opened my eyes. At first, the red walls made me think real
flames surrounded me. Then slowly I remembered where I
was. The dojo ... Tyler ...
    "She was helpless!" My words came out raw; my throat
felt even more so. "He hit her from behind."

    I cried. Big, gulping, convulsive sobs tore through me.
Stinging tears poured down my cheeks. I couldn't stand to
think that the woman who'd stood by me and helped me find
footing-find myself-after I went through living hell had
now been subjected to the ultimate victimization.
    After a while I brought my misery under control. I wiped
my cheeks with the backs of my hands, shoved my hair out of
my face. Again I clung to the rage, and with its help I stood.
    I looked at Tyler. His expression showed concern. "I'm okay,"
I said. 'As okay as I