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like he was fourteen.
    Nareece needed overprotective; Travis, not so much. A hint of anxiety fluttered through my chest at the thought of her and the letter. I forced it back. There was not a thing I could do about it until the weekend. I shuddered at the thought of having to drive to Massachusetts for what was probably nothing. Nareece lives in Milton to be exact, a pretty wealthy suburb of Boston. It would be good to see the twins and John. It would be good to see Nareece, too. I sighed at the image in the mirror. It had been a year since I visited.
    The ring of the phone gave me escape from my guilt. I rushed to the bedside and checked the caller ID, then flopped down on the bed.
    â€œHey, sugar. I’m betting you just got out of the shower. Wish I was there.”
    â€œCalvin, stop with your foolishness.” Stupid. I sat up and wrapped myself with the towel.
    â€œI do believe we have some unfinished business.”
    â€œMmmm.”
    â€œDinner tonight?”
    â€œI’m there.”
    I sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing lotion over my body, the phone lodged in the crook of my neck and ear. A loud bang shook the house. I dropped the phone, grabbed my gun from the top drawer of my nightstand, and hit the stairs, calling out to Travis on my way down. No answer. The front door was wide open. A car sped down the otherwise empty street. I slammed the door shut and turned the dead bolt. I continued to make my way through the living room, through the dining room, gun extended straight out, holding on with both hands except when flicking lights on as I went, moving from side to side. To the kitchen. Clear. Down the basement stairs, around each corner, in the closet, in the bathroom. Clear.
    The sound of the front doorbell seized my heart.

C HAPTER 4
    â€œM uriel, are you here? Miss Mabley?” Mr. Kim, my neighbor, pushed the door open wider than I offered. “Miss Mabley, are you in need of assistance?”
    I pulled the towel tighter around me. “I’m fine, Mr. Kim.”
    â€œI was just coming home from my evening walk and noticed a young man running from your house. He jumped into a blue Camry with a woman driving. It had New Jersey plates, though I could not see the number except the first two letters, JH .”
    Mr. Kim manned the neighborhood watch. A martial arts wonder, he was fit for the position, all five feet two inches of him. Tinker Bell meets Hurricane Katrina.
    I released my hold on the door and allowed him into the foyer. “Thanks, Mr. Kim.”
    â€œYour teaching skills are impeccable, Miss Mabley.”
    â€œAnd yours as well, Mr. Kim.”
    I had studied tae kwon do with Mr. Kim going on twelve years, since I moved in, though my attendance had fallen off lately. To tell the truth, the amount of time I had spent over the years maybe added up to four years of training, maybe four and a half.
    â€œThe man who fled from here was African American, very tall.” He raised his arm and stood on his tiptoes, reminding me of a little boy trying to reach the forbidden cookie jar. “He resembled Mr. Laughton, but with long hair, dreads I believe you call them.” He made his fingers dance on his hair.
    I was somewhat relieved, as Mr. Kim’s description fit Travis’s friend, Fortune, to a tee. “You saw all that in a matter of seconds.”
    â€œMiss Mabley, I am a keen observer. It is an invaluable skill in the world of martial arts. Have I not expressed that to you many times?”
    â€œIndeed, you have.” We laughed lightly.
    â€œWhere were you at when he got in the vehicle?”
    â€œBehind the preposition, Miss Mabley.” He hesitated to allow me time to absorb his correction. Mr. Kim also teaches English at Northeast High School, one of the city’s oldest high schools. “About a hundred feet in that direction,” he said, turning and pointing right. “Well, as long as my services are not needed, I will leave