She couldn’t stand the place for more than a few days at a time, but it provided excellent quarters when she was in the process of relocating her main residence.

She spent a few moments going over her preparations for her work. She was already wearing a well-concealed knife-she was seldom out of reach of at least one knife. She had already checked and rechecked her Beretta. She smiled, thinking of it. She liked a weapon small enough to be concealed in the palm of her hand. The Beretta had served her well. Loaded with.22 shots, thrust up against the back of a skull-it hardly made more than a popping sound.

She didn’t like the kind of shot she had made on Sheila-she forced her thoughts away from that job. Not everyone would have been able to escape in that situation.

A small duffel bag held gloves, clean-up supplies, and Plans B, C, D, E, and F: the garrote, the restraints, the plastic bag, the syringes, and the drugs.

Roy had called her this morning. She had already given him advice. She wondered if he’d followed it. He was a nervous wreck.

Something in Roy appealed to her, made her like him a little more than the others. Giles was full of himself. She had been drawn to him because of his arrogance and power, but lately that had grown old. Dexter-Dexter was a fabulous lover, and more like her than any of the others. They understood each other. But Roy-Roy was kind of sweet, she decided. Protective of her. It was really funny if you stopped to think about it, but none of the other men even thought of treating her that way. And he would do anything for his children. That had made her like him for more than the sex. An image from her own childhood rose to mind unbidden, and she quickly suppressed it.

She checked her watch. Almost time to go. She began a series of meditations she used to hone her concentration.

A soft alarm sounded, distracting her. Someone was walking up her driveway. Probably a salesperson or one of the seemingly endless number of tree trimmers who littered her porch with business cards and flyers. She hid the bag and silently moved toward a monitor.

A slightly built brown-haired man in his fifties, wearing jeans, a light windbreaker, and running shoes, neared the porch steps. She recognized him immediately and swore. She quickly strode to the door.

What the hell was Giles doing here? He wasn’t even supposed to know this place existed. The son of a bitch thought he owned her.

She felt her hand go to the Beretta.

She was going to shoot him. She was going to shoot him now.

No, not here.

She managed to rein in her fury enough to take her index finger away from the trigger of the gun.

She watched him look toward the street as he raised his fist to knock on the door.

She quickly opened the door before his hand made contact with it. She caught his wrist in a crushing grip and yanked him through the doorway, pulling him off-balance. She kicked the door shut, then slammed him up against it, knocking the wind out of him and pinning him. She used her other hand to take hold of his collar and twist it.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

She was pleased to see that his smile was a little wobbly. He was also getting an erection. That was no surprise to her, nor was it gratifying. Giles’s sexual response to her was beginning to bore her.

“Let go of me,” he croaked, “and I’ll tell you.”

She released him. He stumbled forward, then awkwardly regained his balance.

She smoothed out the suit. “I’d better not have any wrinkles in this.”

“I’m going with you,” he said, looking at her clothing with fascination.

“Like hell you are. And you aren’t going to sidetrack me now. How did you find out about this place?”

He smiled again. “Cleo. You know I am always interested in the whereabouts of the members of my family.”

She considered threatening him, then rejected the idea. Giles knew far too much about her activities.

Besides, there was no reason to threaten him-she could take action instead. For now, though, she would need to seem to give in.

“If you’re changing the plan,” she said, “I need to know now. We’re running out of time.”

“I merely wish to observe.”

“Then why are you carrying a weapon?”

His smile faltered. Did he think she wouldn’t notice the gun?

“Cleo, aren’t you the one who always likes to have a backup plan?”

“What’s really going on, Giles? Tell me now.”

“It’s Roy, I’m afraid. At some point I think we’ll need to intercept him.”

“Are you crazy? He’ll have the kids with him. You know my rules,” she said fiercely. “No hurting kids.”

He cowered a little, caught himself doing so, and straightened his back. “Of course not. What has this been all about? It has always been about the children.”

She eyed him skeptically.

“These are precious children, indeed,” he went on smoothly. “That’s why you need me. When we’ve made sure that Victoria is no longer a problem, I’ll go with you to take the children under my care, and you can deal with Roy.”

“You’ll make them lose both parents in one day? Don’t you think that will be a bit traumatic?”

“Are you so fond of Roy that you won’t be able to carry this out?”

She laughed. “Is that what this is really about, Giles?” She moved closer to him, stroked a hand along his cheek. “You aren’t jealous of your little brother, are you?”

He moved away from her hand. “Certainly not.”

She wasn’t convinced, but she stayed silent.

“Have you seen this morning’s newspaper?” he asked.

“No.”

“There are photos and stories in it concerning some people who may be familiar to you. Bonnie Creci Ives, known to you as Victoria Fletcher, wife of the man with whom you’ve been having an affair. Fortunately, between the plastic surgery on her nose and eyes and the changes in her hair color, length, and style, she looks quite different.”

“Yeah. I’m sure a few birthdays and a lot more sobriety may have made a difference, too.”

“Perhaps,” he conceded. “There is speculation in the stories that she stole her daughter, Carla-you know her as Carrie. The photos do show some resemblance, but the computer-aided attempt to show what she might look like now may throw people off. I am a bit concerned that some of the family members may remember what she looked like as a child.”

Cleo swore. “I told you not to bring her around them!”

“We took your advice for a few years, but eventually we had to develop her sense of devotion to the family.”

“Really? How many Fletchers have seen me?”

“Very few, and you’ve done more for the family than just about anyone other than my father. But you’ve always been extraordinary, Cleo.”

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, I should also mention that the reporter who wrote the story is Irene Kelly.”

Cleo didn’t like hearing that name. She wasn’t going to give Giles the satisfaction of seeing her squirm, though. “So what? She writes lots of stories for that rag.”

“In this one she mentions that Bonnie Creci probably took Carla away from her ex-husband with the help of one Reggie Faroe. Name ring a bell?”

“Sure. You asked me to take him hiking.”

“Cleo, how long do you think it’s going to take her to learn that Reggie Faroe is no longer living?”

“I don’t care. It will be a dead end. That’s what you always have me working on, right? Dead ends. You knew that if Blake Ives ever went looking for Faroe in other states, he’d find a heap of bones. And then he’d have nowhere to go.”

“Provided you didn’t leave anything like-oh, say a shoe-at the bottom of a cliff.”

“Very funny. I’ll tell you what I think, Giles. I think it’s stupid to carry out this plan today. You should call Roy and cancel the whole thing.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“It never has been one of your best plans, but carrying it out now would be a huge mistake. Think about it. You want it to look as if the family just moved out.”