As if she doesn’t have a care in the world on this beautiful afternoon, along this safe, picturesque cul-de-sac. Hasn’t she read the newspaper? Doesn’t she know there is a killer loose? She is thirty-six, divorced, with two small children. Before she left her husband they had a lakefront address. Now she lives in this cozy two-story cottage that her husband bought as investment property. Last year in the divorce, she wrested sole ownership of it from him, along with custody of the children and a hefty monthly child-support check. The killer’s research is thorough. She steps into the doorway. Her brown hair is pulled into a long ponytail. She wears a blue T-shirt, thin cotton shorts, and sneakers. “Can I help you?” she says, her dark eyes shining. She is slightly out of breath. With the door open he can hear the rhythmic pump of up-tempo music mixed with a female voice giving instructions. It’s an exercise video. The woman was working out. He is dressed in a white shirt, maroon tie, and dark dress pants.
