He was surprised to see the lights in Brigitte Mildemar’s apartment still on. It troubled him. He had met the woman only briefly, but the impression she gave was strong and sure. There was nothing about her that suggested the insomniac neurotic. Hawker switched on the van’s interior lights and loaded the Browning automatic’s spent clip with fresh 9mm cartridges. He locked the van and walked to the stairs, holding the pistol in his right hand. Brigitte’s shades were drawn, and the door was shut. Hawker wondered why the porch light was on. Was she waiting up for him for some reason? Hawker hesitated, then tapped on the door. There was no immediate response, so he knocked louder. He listened intently at the window and heard nothing. Maybe she was out. Yes, that would explain the lights. She was probably out on a date. Hawker holstered the Browning and walked up the stairs. He unlocked his door and went inside. He put the tea kettle on to boil and opened a bottle of beer to drink while the water heated.
