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“Boa!”
    No one lay in wait. If they did, she’d feel their presence and she didn’t.
    The car, a new Jaguar in a pale shade, stood with its nose into the scrub on one side of the track. Not a sound came from it. Why would it? But why would someone abandon a new Jaguar in…Hadn’t Cyrus said Louis was driving a new blue Jaguar?
    Vivian backed away. She patted the waistband of her jeans, only to discover she didn’t have her cell phone.
    Rustling made her skin crawl and she looked up to see crows, undaunted by the rain, lining the branches above. More birds perched on the rim of the driver’s door which stood open. These sentinels took it in turns, crying out and complaining, to hop down into the car. Each one then flew to the branches with something pale in its beak.
    Vivian held her breath. The birds creeped her out. She could go to pieces, or she could keep calm and see what this was all about.
    The flashlight picked up dark splotches on the car windows. Vivian had no idea what they were and walked gingerly around to the driver’s side.
    She saw a trousered leg—already soaked—and foot, minus its shoe, trailing from the vehicle. Drawn on by determination and horrible fascination, she inched closer. Dripping, Boa sat by the foot and her wail became an unearthly screech.
    Death, that’s what made dogs howl like that.
    Vivian ducked to look inside the car, and immediately retched. She turned aside and threw up until she feltempty and weak. Despite the downpour, sweat slid over her skin, cold, clammy. Her legs trembled. Once more she made herself look in at what was left of Louis Martin.
    The remains of a discarded bag of hamburgers and french fries added the smell of rancid fried food to other disgusting odors. This food was the crows’ spoils.
    Louis’s neck had been slashed so deep his head rested at an impossible angle on top of his briefcase and the dark splotches she’d seen were his blood. Blood everywhere, blood that turned his shirt and jacket black.
    Across his chest rested a single white rose.

Chapter 4
    R ain came through the windows in the kitchen ceiling. Spike waited for Charlotte to notice but she was busy making pastry, a hazelnut crust for a leek and Brie pie. He was used to simple meals, quickly prepared, and only Wendy kept him just about on the straight and narrow with the main food groups.
    He closed the windows.
    Vivian had been gone half an hour or more. It wasn’t his place to mention this to Charlotte.
    The vegetables he’d finished cutting up were in a pressure cooker and he’d cleaned the chopping block. Everywhere he looked he imagined Vivian there, doing whatever she did, and the feelings he got disturbed him. He wasn’t a man who moved fast when it came to women, not anymore. Once he’d made that mistake…no, not a mistake—his haste had given him Wendy.
    “Vivian goes off on her own like this,” Charlotte said without looking up. “Always has. She thinks a lot andlikes a little time alone sometimes. She’s unusual in the kind of way that catches a person’s interest.”
    “I can tell she’s unusual,” Spike said with honesty.
    “She doesn’t have a temper, mind. Just never gets cross. Very easygoing, very reliable. A good mind, too, and creative.”
    Spike said, “I’m sure.”
    “Never a bad word about a soul,” Charlotte continued. “Heart of gold and the patience of a saint.”
    He crossed his arms and rested his chin on his chest. If he didn’t know better he’d think Vivian’s mother was giving a commercial message about her girl.
    From the corner of her eye, Charlotte saw Spike lean against a counter and seem deep in thought. She had good instincts where men were concerned. She’d always been able to pick out the good ones and she was sure Spike Devol was one of the best. David had been the best of all and she’d picked him for herself. Fortunately he’d picked her, too, and they’d made love at first sight a reality.
    She blinked back tears she