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pillows behind her head that made reality kick in.
Beth screamed, then covered her face and screamed again before it hit her that the killer might still be inside. With her heart in her throat, she bolted for the door.
Burroughs was halfway to the elevator when he heard the first scream. By the time she screamed again he had already pulled his weapon and was running back down the hall. Just as he reached the door, it flew open and Beth Venable fell into his arms.
“She’s dead. Sarah’s dead. Someone shot her. There’s blood everywhere. Oh, my God. Oh, my God!”
Burroughs gave her a rough push. “Stay back,” he ordered, and slipped inside with his gun still drawn. He quickly checked out the living room and kitchen, then moved toward the bedroom and the gaping door. He’d seen plenty of bodies during his career, but it was something he’d never gotten used to.
Beth Venable was right about one thing—Sarah Steinman was definitely dead. From the size of the hole in her forehead, he would guess a .38 caliber. The odd thing about the room was that nothing was out of place. There’d been no fight, no resistance. The muted television was odd, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she’d heard something out of place and muted her program to listen closer. He could picture an intruder entering the apartment, pushing open the bedroom door and firing point-blank. She wouldn’t have had a chance to scream or run, and since nothing had been reported, he suspected the killer had used a silencer.
A few hours ago this twentysomething woman had called in to report a murder, and now she was dead.
The whole setup stank.
He holstered his gun, got Beth Venable out of the hall and called in the murder. When he turned around, Beth was still standing where he’d put her, white-faced and shaking so hard he thought she might faint.
“Sit there,” he said, pointing toward the sofa. “I’ve called it in. Police will be here shortly.”
Her eyes were wide with shock. “Why did this happen?”
The first thought that went through his mind was that Pappas already knew there was a witness, which meant there was a snitch in the department. The possibility definitely existed. It made him sick.
“It’s hard to say. Obviously someone took her by surprise. She didn’t even have time to fight or run.”
Beth wrapped her arms around herself, rocking back and forth where she sat, but the expression on her face was one of dazed disbelief. She kept remembering that moment in the dark when she’d felt as if the killer were staring straight into her eyes. Maybe he had seen her at the window. This was Sarah’s apartment. He would have had no way of knowing Beth had been the witness—the only witness.
“It was the killer from across the street, wasn’t it? There was a moment when I thought he saw me. He must have. That’s why this happened. Oh, God. It’s my fault. It’s my fault Sarah’s dead.”

Two
     
Rebel Ridge, Kentucky
     
R yal was finishing his first cup of coffee as day broke in the east. He tossed the remaining dregs into the rosebush by the front steps and then set his cup on the porch railing. He needed to deliver a special-order hutch he’d made for a customer’s wedding anniversary, but for some reason he didn’t want to leave. That uneasy feeling he’d had last night was still with him, but business was business.
An hour later he was loaded and ready but continued to hang around the house, delaying the inevitable trip as long as he could. He kept thinking he was going to miss something important if he left, then reminded himself that if he were really needed, he would eventually be found.
Beth had cried until she was numb. Except for a throbbing headache, she felt nothing. She hadn’t moved since Detective Burroughs had set her down on the sofa other than to pull a blanket up around her shoulders. It wasn’t because she was cold so much as a subconscious effort to hide from what was going on. Every time she closed her