That was the same sentiment he heard when the door to cottage number five opened at last and the three young women appeared. An even greater sense of unease surged through him at the sight of Lauren Crow, the woman with the auburn hair and extraordinary green eyes who reminded him so vividly of Katie. The dark haired girlwas stunning as well, exotic and sleek. He decided that she had to be Deanna. The little blonde who looked like a petite princess had to be the one named Heidi.
Last night he had thought of them as bait, but the article in the paper forced him to think in far more brutal terms. They were targets.
Beautiful, all of them, and young. The perfect age. Pure temptation for the killer who had coldly thrown that poor girl’s corpse into the Mississippi.
“Poor thing,” Heidi was saying as the women approached an empty table.
“Horrible,” Lauren concurred.
“Yes, but please, let’s not obsess about it,” Deanna said. “I forget the statistics, but just in the United States there are dozens serial killers at work at any given time. But we’d go crazy if we worried about them all on a daily basis. Right?”
“Of course. It’s just…it’s just a really big headline,” Lauren said.
“Well, sure. The corpse was headless,” Deanna said.
“That’s true. The more gruesome the crime, the bigger the headline,” Lauren said.
Deanna linked arms with her, adjusting her sunglasses. “But we’re smart, and we’re not going to do anything stupid, like going off alone. You were the one who lectured us on safety way back in college—and we listened.”
“My dad was a cop,” Lauren reminded her. “I learned my lessons young.”
“Right. And you taught us. None of us wander around alone at night, and we all keep an eye on who’s around us at all times. We’re all street smart.”
“I know.”
“Enough of this depressing stuff. It’s time to go shopping,” Heidi said. “Honestly, Lauren—my dear slave—this is my happy time. I know you always worry about the dangerss of the world, but let’s go shopping.”
“Right, shopping,” Deanna agreed.
Watching from a distance, homing in on the girls and trying to filter out other conversation, Mark took a long look at Deanna. She looked exhausted, as if she were suffering from a serious lack of sleep.
They hadn’t seen him yet. He had his newspaper up in front of his face, his dark glasses in place. They were wandering slowly through the courtyard, as if unsure whether to leave or not.
“Coffee?” Deanna suggested.
“We’ll get some on the way,” Heidi said. “Let’s go
“Shopping,” Lauren said dryly.
“I can tell you’re still worried,” Heidi said with a sigh.
“It was that woman last night. The fortune teller,” Deanna said.
“We should never have made Lauren do what she didn’t want to,” Heidi admitted.
“It’s over, and I’m all right. Let’s go,” Lauren said.
She walked right past him and didn’t even notice him, Mark noticed with relief. The other two women followed in her wake and didn’t spare him a glance, either.
At the exit from the courtyard, though, Lauren paused and looked back, as if puzzled. As if she thought she should be seeing something but didn’t know what.
Her eyes fell on him, and she frowned. He stared back at her through the dark lenses of his glasses.
She hesitated, and he couldn’t tell whether she recognized him from the night before or not. The newspaper was shielding most of his face, and her expression was uncertain.
Deanna, concentrating on arranging the strap of her purse, plowed into her. “Hey! I thought we were leaving,” she said.
Lauren didn’t respond. Instead, she walked back into the courtyard, and Mark watched her as she came toward him. “Hello,” she said, looking straight at him. His heart lurched. She looked so much like Katie.
“Hi.”
“We met last night,” she said.
“The bar,” he agreed.
“You’re staying here?”
“It’s a great little place. I see that you and your friends have discovered it, too.” He rose, extending a hand. “You told me your name, but I didn’t tell you mine. Mark Davidson.”
She accepted his hand. Touching her, even so casually, sent a jolt through him.
“My last name’s Crow. Lauren Crow,” she said softly. She turned to her friends, who had followed and were standing behind her. “These are my friends. Deanna??? and Heidi Weiss.”
“Hi,” they chimed in unison, stepping up to shake hands.
“You two know each other?” Deanna said.
“Not really. We met in the bar last night.”
“Cool,” Deanna said.
“We’re here from LA. Where do you call home?” Heidi asked.
“At the moment?” he replied. “I’m in the middle of relocating.”
“Are you thinking about moving to New Orleans?” Deanna asked.
“It’s a great place,” he said.
“I guess,” Deanna managed around a yawn, then excused herself quickly. “Not a lot of sleep to be had here, though.”
He noticed that Lauren was just staring at him. Suspiciously.
“What do you do for a living?” Deanna asked.
Lauren elbowed her friend and gave her a reproving look, but he only laughed out loud. “It’s okay. I’m a writer and a musician.”
“What do you play?” Lauren asked sharply.
“Piano, guitar.”
“Do you write music?” Deanna asked.
“Sometimes. But mostly I confine my writing to article and, some fiction.”
“Cool,” Heidi said.
“Horror novels?” Lauren asked pointedly. Those green eyes of hers didn’t leave him for a second. He disturbed her, he thought. Why?
“I’ve tried a few different things in my day.”
“Are you rich and famous?” Heidi teased.
“No, I’m sorry. Just plodding along,” he told her.
“I’m not sure I believe that,” Deanna said. “You probably have a pseudonym but you’re not going to share it, right?”
“Nothing that deep or mysterious, I’m afraid.”
“Well, nice to meet you,” Lauren said. She set a hand on Heidi’s shoulder, her eyes still on him warily. “We need to get moving.”
“What’s the hurry?” Heidi asked.
“You said you wanted to go shopping,” Lauren reminded her. “Nice to see you again, Mr.