"Yeah, well. You missed the whole thing."

"Tell me." Looking all tall and dark and mysterious-the moonlight did amazing things for the man's face-he gathered my hair over one shoulder. Then-no surprise here-he started nibbling on my neck. Outside. In the middle of the front lawn.

"Jon ..." I said, tipping my head to give him better access. Little tingles were quaking through my body. They felt mighty good. I decided I didn't need to tell him about the party right now. It could wait. "Where's Josh?"

"Up in his room. Why?" He nibbled on my earlobe.

"Because I don't think he should see us."

"See us doing what? We're not having s.e.x ... yet. I'm just having a little snack." He nipped at my neck.

"But I don't think he likes me as it is. I don't want him to dislike me even more."

"What makes you say that?" He dragged his tongue down the column of my neck and I shivered.

"Because he hasn't spoken to me in days."

"It's just stress. Tests. That kind of thing. Don't worry. He likes you just fine. Now, since you're so concerned about people seeing us, why don't we go inside?" Before I could respond, he scooped me off my feet.

Grinning at n.o.body in particular, I tossed an arm around his neck. As he climbed the stairs, I squinted at a dark shadow sitting smack-dab in front of the door. My blood, which had warmed up nicely, chilled. "What is that?"

"What?" He halted at the door. "Can you grab the doork.n.o.b for me?"

"What's under your feet?"

"Nothing."

"It looks like something."

"I don't see anything." In he went. He set me on my feet before pushing on the door to shut it.

I caught it just before it slammed, snapped on the porch light.

"Oh s.h.i.t! What is that?" I stabbed a finger at the little pile of brown fur lying in front of the door. "See? I told you I saw something."

"It's probably a dead rabbit or cat," he reasoned, acting as if it was no big deal to find dead animals lying on the welcome mat. "I'll take care of it later."

"But, Jon, there was a dead cat there last night. That's two nights in a row. Whoever heard of such a coincidence?"

"It's hardly a coincidence. There are a lot of stray animals around here. I used to leave food out for them. Some of them keep coming back, looking for more."

Was I buying that explanation?

He licked the spot on my neck, the one that sent tingly shivers down my spine, and I decided I didn't care. If it was still there in the morning, I'd worry about it then.

Laughter. In my dreams. Women laughing. Talking. A party?

My eyes opened.

The laughter continued.

I wasn't dreaming.

Driven by overwhelming curiosity, I checked the clock. It was a little after midnight. I carefully extricated myself from Jon's embrace-yes, he was a cuddler when he slept-and went to the window.

More laughter. Shadows moving. There. It was coming from Samantha's yard.

I had to know what was going on. Having slept in a T-shirt and sweats, all I had to do was grab a pair of flip flops and quietly head downstairs. I bypa.s.sed the front door, opting for the French doors opening onto the back deck. Out I went into the cool, cloudless night. Yet another round of laughter beckoned to me, coaxing me to wander farther away from the house. My shoes smack-smacked under my feet, but n.o.body would hear. The laughter and lively chattering would drown out the sound.

Creeping closer, almost at the far side of Samantha's house, I kept to the shadows. For some reason, I didn't want Samantha, or whoever it was, to know I was spying.

But just as I rounded the far corner, everything went silent. No laughing. No chattering. Not even any insect buzzing. A strange chill raced up my spine.

I turned to go home. Stopped.

Were those ... ? Glowing eyes. Two. No, four. No ... six.

Three pairs of eyes were staring at me from the shadows between the houses. I had no idea what they belonged to. Dogs maybe. Big dogs. Instantly, the vision of that little scraggly Skippy came to mind. One of these ... dogs ... had s.n.a.t.c.hed him. I knew it. What would they do to me?

Nothing if I could help it.

I backed up, moving as slowly, as quietly as possible.

Avoid eye contact, I told myself, remembering the first rule of Aggressive Dogs 101.

Protect your head and neck.

Remaining standing, but turning sideways, I inched along the back wall of the house. My foot landed on something soft. Rubber.

Squeak.

d.a.m.n.

One of the animals stepped out of the shadow. It was big, muscular, a dog of some kind, with a long pointed snout and a thick, dark coat. For some reason, my gaze snapped to its eyes. Blue? A clear, ice blue. The dog's ears twitched, and I yanked my gaze away, hoping it wouldn't attack.

I lifted my foot off the toy and another loud squeak cut through the thick silence as the hollow rubber inflated again. I held my breath when a second dog cleared the shadows. It stopped a few inches behind the first, flanking it on the right.

Watching me.

Still. Silent. Tracking my movements.

The third stepped forward. It was holding something in its mouth. Small. Brown. Furry.

Now I had an idea where all the dead cats were coming from.

The dog with the dead animal slowly crept forward, ears back, tail low. I smooshed my back against the house and held my breath as it moved close, closer, too close. It stopped a couple of feet away, lowered its head, and dropped its prize onto the dewy gra.s.s. Then, moving just as cautiously as it had when it approached, it backed away. When it met up with the other two, the pack turned around and raced into the still, dark shadows.

Finally, I was able to breathe again.

Afraid the dogs would be back at any moment, I hightailed it out of there, dashing around the side of the house. Something jumped out of the shadows just as I was about to turn the front corner. I slammed into it, bounced backward and landed on my a.s.s. The air left my lungs with an audible "oof."

Jerking my head, I looked up.

Jon.

"Why do you keep doing that?" I said, not hiding my exasperation.

"What do you mean, me? I was just looking for you. You're the one who keeps slamming into people. You need to watch where you're going."

"I do watch where I'm going. You're so freaking quiet and sneaky, I don't see or hear you coming." I started to push to my feet. I got a little help from Jon.

He dusted my a.s.s, then gave it a pat. "I'm not sneaking up on you on purpose. When I didn't see you in the house, I got worried."

"Okay. Fine. Thanks for coming after me. As it turns out, you had good reason to be worried." I started toward the house, Jon falling into step beside me.

"What happened?"

"I ran into a pack of dogs. Big ones."

"Were you hurt?"

"No. Not at all. They didn't seem aggressive. Although there was something really weird about them." At the front of the house now, I glanced back.

"Weird? Like what?"

"I don't know. Just ... something." I wrapped my arms around myself as a little shiver shot up my spine. "One of them had a dead animal in its mouth. It brought it to me, dropped it at my feet. Like it was some kind of gift." I stepped up onto the porch and checked the welcome mat. Dead animalfree.

"I'll call animal control tomorrow." Jon reached around my side and opened the door. "I think it would be better if you stayed inside after dark until those animals are caught. It's after midnight. What made you go outside in the first place?"

"I heard voices."

"Voices?" he echoed, stepping into the foyer.

"Yeah. Women's voices. I thought it might be Erica. And maybe Samantha. So I came outside to check."

As Jon reached for the door to close it, the soft sound of a woman's laughter carried through the still night.

"There it goes again! Did you hear that?" Pushing past Jon, I rushed back out onto the porch, following the direction of the sound with my eyes.

Not far away, I caught sight of a tall shadow. Thin. "Samantha?" I called as I skipped down the front porch steps. I halted in the middle of the front yard, realizing there were shadows bouncing around the taller one. Big, dog-shaped shadows. Taking a step backward, I b.u.mped into a walking brick wall. "I think those might be the dogs I saw before. Is that Samantha? She's not afraid. Are they her dogs?"

"Uh, you might say that." Jon looped an arm around my waist, hauling me up to him.

"But ... I didn't know she had dogs. I've never heard barking, never seen them outside doing their doody-"

"We shouldn't disturb them. Let's go inside."

I took one last look at the strange scene-straight out of Dances with Wolves-then let Jon lead me back into the house. This time, he shut and locked the door as soon as we were inside.

Feeling even more shivery than before, I asked, "Is it just me, or do you think it's a little strange that Samantha is outside after midnight playing with her dogs?"

"Some people might think a lot of what goes on in this neighborhood is strange."

That statement got my attention. "Like what?" I asked.

Jon shrugged and, taking my hand, headed toward the stairs.

I yanked my hand away, planted my feet, and refused to budge. "Jon, what did you mean by that? Ever since I arrived, I've been feeling like things around here are a little ... off. Is there more going on than a few dead stray cats?"

"I don't know what you mean." He swept my hair over one shoulder. There was no doubt what he was about to do next.

I shrugged away before he got his first nibble. "Jon."

"Chrissy." He cupped the back of my head, pulling me into a kiss.

Just as his mouth settled over mine, I shoved him. "It's not going to work. You're not going to distract me. What aren't you telling me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not keeping anything from you." Undeterred, he lunged forward, tackling me, looping his arms around my knees. I flopped over his shoulder like a big bag of ... something ... as he stood up.

I smacked him on the back, once for each step he ascended, the sound of each strike punctuating my words. "Jon." Smack. "You can." Smack. "Get all caveman." Smack. "On me." Smack. "But I'm not giving up." Smack. "Tell me."

He set me on my feet at the top of the stairs and gave me some seriously hungry eyes. "Have I told you how s.e.xy you are when you're annoyed?"

Argh! I shoved past him, slamming the door behind me and locking it.

Jon knocked. "Baby, let me in."

"Not until you tell me what's going on. You're hiding something. What is it?"

He audibly sighed. "You're going to have to ask them. I can't say."

"I left my job, my home, to come here. You should be able to tell me anything."

"I'm sorry."

"Fine," I said, giving the door my best mean eyes. "You can sleep in the guest room." Frustrated, I flopped onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling.

Six hours later, I gave up. There was absolutely no chance I was going to fall asleep. Feeling groggy, confused, foggy headed, and slightly depressed, I jumped into the shower, hoping some scalding hot water would wake me up a little. It helped. Figuring a half of pot of coffee would help even more, I staggered down to turn on the coffeemaker.

When I rounded the corner, lumbering into the kitchen, I stopped dead in my tracks.

There was a wire dog cable lying on the kitchen floor.

Right where Mich.e.l.le had died.

Was this some kind of warning? A joke?

Telling myself it was nothing, absolutely nothing, a weird, terrible coincidence, I dashed outside, down to Samantha's house, and up her front porch steps. She answered my knock dressed in yet another adorable vintage dress, her hair and makeup picture-perfect. Like always. "Good morning, Christine. What a surprise." She looked me up and down. I knew I wasn't looking my best, but who would in my shoes?