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all the people at Valentine Valley for years. And I’m under contract anyway. I can’t just quit.”
    “Your life is more important than a contract.”
    “Yes, I believe that wholeheartedly. But I don’t believe that I was an intended victim, or that lightning—or stage lights—strikes twice in the same place.”
    Melinda walked away from her. “So you really think it was an accident?” she asked, pausing by the small bar setup mat could be opened to accommodate the patio as well. To Serena’s surprise, her sister, who never drank, poured herself a scotch.
    “Melinda, I don’t know,” Serena said slowly, thinking about the saucer ashtray that had disappeared but determined not to say anything about it to Melinda, partly because she’d been told not to mention it and partly because her sister was so upset.
    The doorbell rang, causing them both to jump. The glass of scotch jiggled dangerously in Melinda’s hand.
    “It’s the doorbell. Just the doorbell,” Serena said.
    She walked back through the foyer to the door. It was her brother-in-law. Tall and very thin, he had fine features, as lean as his wiry frame. Now his sandy blond hair with its distinguished touch of gray was all but standing on end, as if he’d threaded his fingers through it a hundred times. Serena and Jeff had always gotten along—except that he, like her sister, seemed to feel that she had wasted her life in frivolous pursuits.
    “Jeff,” she said. “Come in.”
    “Melinda is here?”
    It was obvious, Serena thought. Her sister’s minivan was in the driveway.
    “Yes.”
    He entered the foyer. Melinda had turned. They seemed to stare at each other for a long moment, then Melinda cried out and rushed to him. It was like a scene out of a movie.
    “Jeff …” Melinda said, looking up at him.
    “Let’s go home. Together.”
    Melinda nodded, eyeing her husband of so many years as if she didn’t want to let him go. “You heard?” she said.
    “Of course. I’ve been down to the station.”
    “The police station?”
    “Of course.”
    “Jeff—”
    “Melinda, I’m really tired. Let’s get home.”
    “Jeff, she was a horrible person. Horrible.”
    “She didn’t deserve to die that way,” Jeff said.
    Melinda appeared to be relieved at his words. “My car—” she began awkwardly.
    “If you want,” Serena suggested, “come pick it up on Sunday. We’ll all have dinner together here, and you can drive both cars home then.”
    Melinda stiffened. “You’re going to invite all the soap people?”
    “No, just us. How’s that?”
    “Sure, that sounds good,” Jeff said. “Thanks, short stuff.” He sounded gruff. The “short stuff’ was a joke. She had been in high school when he started dating her sister. She had since shot up to be an inch taller than Melinda. “You sure you don’t have plans?”
    “Yes, I have plans for you two to come over on Sunday.”
    “Great.” Jeff looked at Melinda again, took her hand, and started out the door. At the last minute, Melinda turned and gave Serena a fierce hug once again.
    “I love you,” Melinda told her sister.
    “I love you, too,” Serena said.
    “I’m always here, if you need me.”
    “Hey, I’m here, too. You know that. If you’re upset, alone, if you just want to talk—”
    “We’re going to be back on Sunday!” Jeff said. “No one is leaving town or anything.”
    “Or dying,” Melinda murmured. Again she hugged her sister, then the two were gone.

Chapter 4
    T HAT NIGHT S ERENA FOUND herself double-checking her already locked door.
    She’d spent some time with a script and some time picking up around the house. At last she realized that she had just been trying to find things to do. She was definitely on edge.
    In the refrigerator, she found a bottle of Chablis. She poured a large glass, though not getting quite as carried away as Melinda had earlier. She went and stood by the windows that looked onto the patio. Images from the day kept sweeping through