Blood Red

were just going into their cottage.

Lock it, he thought as the door closed behind them. Lock it! And don’t let anyone in….

He decided they were safe enough for the time being and headed back to his car.

Just when the world seemed all nice and normal…

When Deanna and Lauren went into their cottage they found Heidi out of the shower, dressed and on her cell phone. She flashed them a smile and mouthed the word, “Barry.”

They both nodded; then Deanna headed into the shower, and Lauren plopped down on the sofa, turned on the television and found the news.

There was a police officer, a big handsome guy, talking to a sea of reporters, who were all struggling to get their mikes closer to the cop.

“The most important thing for anyone, but especially women, to remember is to use good judgment and common sense,” the cop was saying.

“But the victim was a known prostitute,” one of the reporters called out.

“The victim was a woman,” the policeman said firmly. “And we don’t know yet where she was killed. It might have been anywhere along the Mississippi. Folks, this is a great city. We’ve had our share of trouble, but we always rise back up. Right now, let’s assume we’re having a problem, so let’s handle it intelligently. Go out, have fun. Go to dinner—gamble, if that’s your passion, enjoy everything this city has to offer. Stay in groups. Don’t go down dark streets on your own. Don’t assume that you’re safe just because the last victim was a woman or a prostitute, but don’t spend your lives hiding, either. There’s nothing new about predators. And there’s nothing new to guard against them. Being smart is always the best defense.”

The reporters all started shouting questions, speaking over top of each other. The detective lifted a hand. “There’s nothing else I can say at the moment, except maybe to add this warning: Don’t open your door to strangers.”

“Even tall, good-looking ones, Lieutenant?” one of the female reporters asked with a grin.

“Strangers of any kind, Amy,” the cop said, staring hard at her, his expression grim. He’d been talking about murder and clearly hadn’t appreciated her levity.

And that was that. They kept shouting, but he had turned and was walking away, and that was that.

The television went off with a soft ping. Lauren looked up. Heidi had flicked it off with the remote control. “We need to listen to that man,” she said firmly.

“Of course. Smart man,” Lauren said.

Heidi sat down next to her. “You’re getting that look that means you’re taking all this too much to heart. We are going out.”

“Yeah, and we’re doing what the officer said.”

“What’s that?” Heidi asked, frowning.

“We’re sticking together.”

Heidi waved a hand in the air. “Of course. That will be easy.”

Deanna popped out of the bathroom, followed by a cloud of steam. She was in a robe, her make-up bag in her hand. “It’s all yours, Lauren.”

“Great. Thanks.” Lauren rose and walked in to take her shower. She was grateful to discover that despite Heidi and Deanna having gone before her, she still had hot water.

Be smart, the cop had said.

Smart would be getting on a plane and getting the hell away from here.

Heidi and Deanna would never do it.

But Deanna was acting even stranger than she was herself, she thought. Just what was going on? Deanna wasn’t given to flights of fancy or weirdness. There were just too many tall, dark-haired men hanging around lately. Mark Davidson, almost devastatingly attractive but scary as hell. Jonas, Deanna’s guy.

And then….

It wasn’t human, Deanna had said.

Back up, she told herself. There were often moments when you felt you were being watched. Creepy little moments. There were times when she had been home in L.A. and felt her heart accelerate when she looked out at the darkness and the bushes rustling near her door. Fear was a natural human emotion, or, if not flat out fear, at least unease.

They would go out tonight. They would check out the bars, and they would most definitely stay together.

But the newscast kept replaying in her mind. Don’t open your door to strangers.

He hadn’t been out on the road in eons. He hadn’t driven this way since he’d returned to New Orleans, and he wasn’t even sure right now why the temptation to do so had become so strong.

He knew he was in the right place, though.

But the house was long gone, and nothing had been built in its stead. There was only a tangle of growth covering the property.

He wondered idly who owned it now. Easy enough to find out, he imagined.

He stared at the property for a while, then walked along the sweeping drive. Some of the oaks and magnolias remained, as did the foundation. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine what it had been. Hear