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the wall one more punch when he heard a knock at his door.

CHAPTER
9
    A rchie’s spine stiffened . He didn’t move. Every cell in his body was telling him to draw his weapon. He
wasn’t expecting anyone. But so what? People answered doors all the time without an overwhelming feeling of dread. Then again, it had been a long time since Archie had. Sometimes he forgot
that there were people who moved through the world unaware that someone might slam a hammer into their parietal lobe at any moment. What would those people do in this situation? They would answer
the door, he decided. They wouldn’t even hesitate.
    He was reaching for the doorknob when he remembered his hand.
    He looked down at it. The knuckles were skinned raw, the folds of his finger joints filled with blood. He turned and looked behind him. The phone lay broken on the floor.
    Another knock.
    Archie stuffed his wounded hand in his pants pocket and cracked open his door.
    The woman in the hall on the other side of the door was smiling. But Archie could see the smile falter a little when she saw him. He could imagine what he looked like then: shirt unbuttoned,
sweating, red-faced, and baffled. He never should have opened the door. He wanted to go back inside. He fumbled to button his shirt with his left hand.
    She smiled harder.
    She looked to be in her late twenties. She was wearing a ribbed black tank top, cut-off gray sweatpants, and teal rubber flip-flops. Her skin was bronzed. She was younger than he’d thought
when he’d seen her through the window.
    “Hi,” she said. “I’m Rachel.”
    She held out her hand. Archie hesitated. He pushed his right hand deeper in his pocket. Then offered her his left. Rachel looked confused.
    “Sorry,” he said. “Injury.” It seemed too vague, and he searched for a more satisfying explanation. “I have a cat.” He groaned internally. A cat?
    But she seemed to buy it, and she held out her left hand, too, and they shook. Her handshake was firm and friendly. Archie made sure he let go first.
    Even in the light of the hall’s compact fluorescents, her body glowed. She was a picture of health and youth. Rosy cheeks. White teeth. Wide blue eyes and a broad smile. Her shiny blond
hair was either natural or very expensive. The smile widened, earnestly. Her tan was all one shade of unblemished golden honey. Even her teeth looked expensive.
    “You’re not from around here,” Archie said.
    The smile faltered again. “I’m your new neighbor,” she said. “I just moved in downstairs.”
    He’d made her nervous. He hadn’t meant to. His hand was starting to hurt now. He wondered if it was bleeding through his pants. He didn’t want to draw attention to it by
looking.
    “People here don’t tan,” he explained.
    Her eyes fell to his belt and he saw in the tiny jerk of her brow that she had noted the gun holster on his hip.
    “I’m a cop,” he said quickly.
    Rachel’s eyes brightened. “Oh, that’s you,” she said. “I heard there was a cop in the building.”
    The building manager. Archie wondered what else he’d told her about him.
    “I saw you come home,” she said. “So I thought I’d introduce myself.” She paused, waiting.
    Archie wondered how someone got a tan like that.
    She said, “It’s customary to share your own name at this point.”
    Archie cleared his throat. “Sorry. Archie.” Sorry Archie. That was him, all right.
    She peered past him. “You live here alone?”
    His kids came every other weekend, but that seemed too complicated to get into. “Just me,” he said.
    Rachel seemed to be waiting for something. Was he supposed to invite her in for a drink? Offer her a Welcome Wagon basket? Archie was bad at this sort of thing. He could solve a homicide, but
social obligations left him mystified.
    “Do people not do this here?” she asked. “Go around and meet the neighbors? I’m from San Diego, so if this is weird, tell me, so I don’t continue to make a total
idiot of