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and closed the door a couple times. “Door seems sturdy enough.” He checked for a deadbolt and seemed satisfied. “To stay on the safe side, always deadbolt this door, too.”
    Allie tapped her foot, impatient for the security check to end. She’d set a rigid schedule for herself and falling behind added additional stress—and she’d already racked up a truckload. If she failed to complete the required elements, she’d lose her place in the competition.
    “What else is back here?” He pulled open the door and stepped onto the porch.
    She remained in the doorway.
    Flowerpots clustered in the corners sprouted an assortment of herbs. He ducked around a pair of wind chimes hanging from the porch roof, walked to the railing and looked down into the narrow backyard. A vegetable garden, in the early stages of growth, bordered one side of a small patch of grass. A lemon tree, thick with fruit, occupied a far corner. Allie sometimes sat in its leafy shade while she sketched ideas for clothes. The year before, robins had built a nest in the upper branches. So as not to cause the parents concern, she’d relocated to a chair on the porch until the babies could fly.
    Sutter pointed to a tall, wooden fence anchored across the backyard. A gate had been cut into the weathered redwood.
    “Do you keep the gate locked?”
    “Well, sort of, but there’s only a latch.” She surmised anything so Mickey Mouse would never meet with his approval.
    His frown proved her right. “I’ll have a locksmith install something sturdier. You need to become very serious about security.”
    Allie wondered if she’d wind up stuck paying the bill for the locksmith. Already her bank account looked like the victim of a cyber-scam. Before she had a chance to question him, he shifted gears.
    “What’s behind the fence?”
    “A narrow alley serves as a buffer between the houses on my street and the ones behind us. It’s been there forever. I’m not sure why.”
    “Can anyone gain access?”
    “There a chain-link fence and gate at each end.”
    “Are the gates ever locked?”
    Allie shrugged. “I’m not sure. They never were, but I’ve haven’t exited that way in years.”
    “I’ll swing by early tomorrow and check.”
    Terrific. Bad enough he had to come by at all, did he have to come early?
    Sutter reentered the house and walked into the center room where a staircase led to the second floor. Two steps brought him to the small landing.
    “What’s up there?”
    “My living space.”
    He climbed up the rest of the way. A long open gallery ran the length of the upper floor with a doorway at each end of the hall and one in the middle.
    Allie followed. “Why do you have to go up there?”
    “I need to check out the rooms, mainly the one in front. Thompson and I will spend a lot of time in it, especially once we know if Barnett’s in town. The side window looks down on the steps and front door and provides a clear view.” He traversed the short hallway.
    “That’s my bedroom.” She tried to keep the annoyance from her tone, but lost the battle.
    He crossed the threshold, took three more steps and came to an abrupt halt.
    Allie, close on his heels, plowed into his back. Her breasts squished against hard muscles. She winced, swallowed an embarrassed “oops,” and quickly back-peddled.
    She suspected the ruffle-edged, peach-and-pink flowered shams and four bed pillows, along with the two small, pink-and-white striped ones and the fluffy, white stuffed cat, were what brought his hands to his hips and a shake to his head.
    Her chest tightened at the prospect of explaining her sleeping arrangements to Detective Sutter.
    “What the… You sleep under all that stuff?”
    “No, I don’t sleep under everything.” Her staunch tone asked if he could be any more obtuse. She walked around him and pointed to a bench at the foot of the bed. “Most of it goes there at night.”
    He frowned again, and the dimple dented his right cheek. “Then