As she walked into the apartment, she noticed a message on her landline from Jeff Denison. Crap. She’d promised to call and set up a time to meet him on Saturday, the first day of their interviews. Even though it made sense, the buddy system still irritated her, and she’d put off calling him. She picked up the phone and dialed his number.

The phone rang so many times, TJ was about to hang up when he finally picked up. “Jeff?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice thick and a little breathless. Had he been sleeping?

“This is TJ. Sorry I didn’t call sooner, but been busy.”

“Can you hang on for a minute?”

She thought she heard him blow his nose. Damn. Was he crying?

“I’m back. Sorry for the interruption.” He sounded better, but nasal.

“No problem.”

TJ wasn’t quite sure what to say. Should she ask if he was okay? Lisa was the one who should be working with this guy.

“Just met with Lisa and we divided up the list. Gonna call a few tonight and see if I can get us some appointments lined up for Saturday. Most of ‘em will be in this part of town, so why don’t we meet somewhere ‘round here for coffee at about eight and go over the schedule?” She mentioned the name of a pancake place across the street.

He said, “I’ll be there. I could make some calls for you tonight, if you want to give me some numbers.” His voice sounded quivery and he asked her to hang on for a minute again. In no mood to play therapist to a grieving husband, TJ hoped he really was just getting a pen.

When he picked up the phone, his voice froglike, TJ sighed and said, “What’s your address, Jeff?”

After he gave her his Brookfield address, she was somewhat relieved. At least he lived close to the interstate. If she had to drive in this crappy weather, at least it would be on a salted highway. “Tell you what. I’ll be at your place in thirty minutes. We can get things set up for Saturday.”

The relief in his voice when he said he’d put on coffee and have the outside light on should have made TJ feel good about her offer. Instead, she felt a twinge of guilt. She understood the importance of his participation, but she still felt like she’d set herself up for a caretaking gig. Grudgingly, she put her coat back on and left her apartment before she could change her mind.

Jeff’s townhouse took up half of a large brick duplex on the edge of a cul-de-sac lined with stately homes. When she arrived at his door, he’d pulled himself together, but he’d obviously been crying.

She followed him into a pleasantly decorated living room furnished with soft, warm-brown leather furniture, beige shag carpeting, and bright red accent pieces strategically placed throughout the room. A floor-to-ceiling fireplace flanked with bookcases and a large entertainment center covered one wall. The bright fire crackling in the fireplace made the room warm and inviting.

They made calls, drank coffee, got some appointments set up for Saturday, and made a separate list with names of anyone who refused to make an appointment. Those were the people they would just drop in on if time permitted. Their calls ended on a high note when one of the “missing” women answered her sister’s phone. TJ crossed her off their list.

Jeff offered, “Would you like a glass of wine?”

Probably a stalling technique. He wasn’t ready to be alone. Well she’d known the risk. “Sure.”

Jeff was the first to break the silence as they drank their wine sitting in front of the fire. “You know, I was pretty upset when you called.”

TJ gulped a mouthful of wine. “Yeah, thought so. “

“Today at work someone started playing songs from the ‘60s and ‘70s. I like all kinds of music, and I was into it for a while.” He paused, looking down into his glass.

“One of them got to you.”

“I’d heard the song before, but it didn’t have any meaning for me until now. I think it’s from the ‘70s . It’s called ‘She’s Not There.’ Have you heard it?”

Recalling the lyrics, a tingle spread over her skin as she realized how well—or how creepy really—the song described Jeff’s situation. She said, “Yeah, by the Zombies.”

“The music was so haunting; the words sounded like they’d been written for me. By the time the song ended, I had to leave my desk and walk around for a few minutes. You know how a song keeps running through your mind when you don’t want it to.”

He put down his wine and took off his glasses. Staring into the fire, he rubbed his eyes. “Tonight the song came back to me and sent me into what Jamie used to call a pity party. I had a good start on it when you called.” He looked at her. “Thank you for coming over; it really helped.”

TJ, who didn’t do well with things like gratitude and compliments, said nothing. They finished their wine in comfortable silence. She stood to leave, and wondered why she hadn’t noticed his boyish good looks. His deep-set, gray eyes behind the wire-rimmed glasses were fringed with thick lashes. His curly, light-brown hair was neatly styled. He brought out what little maternal instinct she had—even though they were probably about the same age.

Jeff walked her to her car and helped scrape off the layer of ice on the windows.

Impulsively, she hugged him when he opened the door for her and said, “I’m sorry about your wife.”

He clung to her for a moment as she’d known he would, then pulled away and walked back toward the house.

13             

The weather turned cold and drizzly. By evening, the snow threatening to fall on the city of Pewaukee only managed to mesh with rain, forming a thick sleet.

Shannon had been in the office all day with papers spread across the conference room table, organizing Earl’s real estate transactions before he left in mid-November to spend the winter months in Florida.

Not long after taking a quick dinner break, she heard the wind beating at the walls of the old building, howling softly, eerily insistent. She shivered, wishing Lisa was working tonight. Just as she moved a stack of folders to the file-cabinet, she heard a noise coming from Lisa’s office. She put down the files and went for the Taser she carried in her purse.

Weapon in hand, she opened the door to Lisa’s office. Nothing appeared amiss. Through the large bay window, she saw the oak trees straining against the wind, a stygian scene highlighted by the dim light in the parking lot. The wind must have tossed something against the building. Spooked, but not enough to curtail her progress, she went back to her work.

It was still sleeting a half hour later when Shannon left the building. Though not easily frightened, she was glad she’d parked on the street so she could avoid the parking lot. Grateful the nearly deserted streets had been salted, she scraped at the ice buildup on her windshield until she’d removed just enough to see out.

Secure in her locked vehicle, she drove into the parking area behind the building. Her blood froze when she saw a shadowy form moving through the oak trees. It vanished so quickly she wondered if she’d really seen it.

She turned the car around, making sure everything was in order as her headlights lit up the building’s rear entrance. Nothing looked out of place. She decided it couldn’t hurt to drop in at the police station on her way out of town. She knew most of the Pewaukee police from seeing them in the deli across the street. She’d tell them what happened and ask if they would check the place during the night.

14             

Six years earlier

She’s the one—the woman of my dreams—the one woman I can trust. Allyson.

Intrigued by the anonymity and simplicity of meeting women online, he found her in a chat room for singles. They’d exchanged emails for weeks before their first meeting late at night in a small coffee shop. Thrilled when Allyson turned out to be as lovely as the picture she’d sent, he suspected his own good looks put her off—she’d been nervous and shy the entire time they’d been together.