Deanna went back into the bedroom, and Lauren lay down again, troubled. She was so tired. Her lids became heavy. She drifted.

And dreamed.

Mark returned to the bed and breakfast with his car and belongings. He glanced at his watch. It was four in the morning.

Once he had parked and grabbed his overnight bag, he stood in the courtyard. Unease trickled through him.He could smell it. Sense it.

Someone had been here.

He dropped his bag and hurried to the cottage where the girls were staying. He tried the door. Locked. He prayed G.o.d it had remained so since he had left.

But he didn't like it. Didn't like it at all.

What if Stephan had discovered the woman, the one who looked like Katie?

He was tempted to pound on the door, to make sure the girls were all right. But all signs were that they were locked in, sound asleep, safe. If they began to think of him as a danger, an insane man, he wouldn't be able to help them.

It occurred to him that he was in a perfect position to use the women in his own quest. He was here; they were here.

The perfect bait.

No, he told himself, gritting his teeth painfully. Never bait. Never.

He stared at the door for a moment longer, then looked around the courtyard. Whoever had been here was gone. Long gone, probably. Regretfully, he walked softly away from the door, seeking his own cottage.

Luckily, it was right next door.

Lauren awoke to a hint of sunlight making its way through the draperies and the sound of chirping birds.

She frowned as she woke, despite the miraculous wonder of daylight. At least she hadn't had any wretched dreams about fortune tellers or scary creatures in crystal b.a.l.l.s. She hadn't even dreamed about Deanna walking out into the courtyard, sound asleep.

Now that was scary-and real.

Instead she had continued with the dream she had started before going out after Deanna, and that was very scary, as well.

And far too real.

She'd dreamed about him.

She flushed at the thought. It had been so bizarre. She'd been back in the bar, back at the point where she'd crashed into him.

And it had been...

Incredibly erotic.

And insanely real. She had seen the walls, with their old posters of jazz greats. She had even smelled the slightly stale scent of alcohol that lingered around any bar, the hint of old smoke. She had seen the shadows and the dim light. And the man. They had looked at one another, and the next thing she had known, she'd been in his arms, no introduction, no small talk. Thankfully she couldn't remember how they had shed their clothing. But she had certainly been naked, just as he had been, in the shadowy hallway, flush against him, feeling his flesh and heat, his very life, as he pressed her against the wall. She could almost remember the feel of his lips against hers, and on her flesh. The hardness of his erection as he made love to her against the wall in a bar.

Even though it had only been a dream, it was humiliating. In a thousand years, she would never do such a thing, especially with a stranger. With a man who might be actively dangerous.She groaned softly. She really, desperately, needed a life.

She sat up and stretched, straightened and smiled.

Daylight. Once she rose, drank some coffee and showered, surely the reality of the dream would fade. She decided that she couldn't even share it with Heidi or Deanna. It was simply too embarra.s.sing. Too...personal.

She shook her head, rose and headed straight for the coffee machine.

Heidi and Deanna were still completely out-she could see the dark head in one bed and the blond one in the other. She opted for a shower while the other two slept on.

As the water streamed over her, she groaned aloud softly. She wasn't afraid, exactly, but she felt uneasy in her own skin, unable to forget the pure sensuality of the dream. She could imagine his hands, the way they had felt on her bare flesh.

She finished her shower as fast as she could.

She definitely needed a life, she thought again. It was just so difficult. She was past the age of looking for fun and enjoyment while she set her career in motion. She wanted something real, commitment, respect...and, of course, pa.s.sion. Something like what she'd had with Ken. Deanna was always telling her that she didn't need to make a commitment before the first date, and that she would never know if she really liked a man enough to love him if she didn't take a few chances. But it was hard to go back to dating after she'd been engaged, in love and ready for the future. She loathed the idea of dating again. It was just too...

uncomfortable. And potentially painful.

As Lauren poured coffee, Deanna emerged from the bedroom. She looked rumpled and still tired.

"Bless you, my child," she proclaimed. "Coffee."

"And more in the courtyard when we're ready for breakfast," Lauren said. She hesitated, then asked, "Are you okay?"

"Just tired," Deanna said.

"Well, you were rather active in the middle of the night," Lauren reminded her.

Deanna took a cup of coffee and sipped it. "I have never, ever, done anything like that before in my life."

"Alcohol," Lauren suggested.

"Sadly, I have been a bit wasted before," Deanna admitted.

"You don't remember anything at all?"

Deanna shook her head, but her eyes were lowered. Lauren thought there was more, but she couldn't force Deanna to tell her what it was. She could only hope that Deanna would explain more when she was ready.

Lauren walked to the door and moved the chair she had set against it. "Well, let's see what unlight streaming on the pool does for the day, huh?" She opened the door.

A newspaper was lying on the mat.

She stooped down to pick it up and couldn't help but read the huge headline immediately.

Headless Female Corpse Found in Mississippi.

3 M ark sat in the courtyard, dark sungla.s.ses in place, drinking his coffee and reading the newspaper. He felt a sense of bitter fatality at the headline blazing at him, and nothing in the story that followed surprised him.

The headless woman was being called Jane Doe. The coroner estimated that she'd been dead a week to ten days, and she might have been disposed of at almost any point up to a hundred miles upriver. White, approximately five-feet-seven inches, one- hundred-and-thirty pounds, her remains had been badly a.s.sailed by the river and the creatures that lived in it. The coroner had nothing else to say for the moment, other than that additional tests were being performed on the victim.

The head had yet to be discovered.

Mark put down the paper and sipped his coffee, staring at the door to the cottage the three women had taken. Someone had taken in the newspaper, but they had yet to emerge for the day.

He was seated at a table behind a pleasant elderly couple from Ohio. There was a pair of honeymooners to his left, Bonnie and Ralph, and a few of the other guests had come by, all cheerful, friendly and wishing him a good morning. Some of them hadn't read the paper. Some had, and been appalled at what they read. But they all seemed able to distance themselves from the story.

A lone young woman, attacked and killed. Yes, it was easy for a pretty girl to be in danger, to become a victim. From the conversations he overheard, most of them also wanted to believe that she had been a drug addict, as well, or a prost.i.tute.

Anything to ensure that whatever violence had touched her would never touch them.

That was the same sentiment he heard when the door to cottage number five opened at last and the three young women appeared.

An even greater sense of unease surged through him at the sight of Lauren Crow, the woman with the auburn hair and extraordinary green eyes who reminded him so vividly of Katie. The dark haired girlwas stunning as well, exotic and sleek. He decided that she had to be Deanna. The little blonde who looked like a pet.i.te princess had to be the one named Heidi.

Last night he had thought of them as bait, but the article in the paper forced him to think in far more brutal terms. They were targets.

Beautiful, all of them, and young. The perfect age. Pure temptation for the killer who had coldly thrown that poor girl's corpse into the Mississippi.

"Poor thing," Heidi was saying as the women approached an empty table.

"Horrible," Lauren concurred.

"Yes, but please, let's not obsess about it," Deanna said. "I forget the statistics, but just in the United States there are dozens serial killers at work at any given time. But we'd go crazy if we worried about them all on a daily basis. Right?"

"Of course. It's just...it's just a really big headline," Lauren said.

"Well, sure. The corpse was headless," Deanna said.

"That's true. The more gruesome the crime, the bigger the headline," Lauren said.

Deanna linked arms with her, adjusting her sungla.s.ses. "But we're smart, and we're not going to do anything stupid, like going off alone. You were the one who lectured us on safety way back in college-and we listened."

"My dad was a cop," Lauren reminded her. "I learned my lessons young."

"Right. And you taught us. None of us wander around alone at night, and we all keep an eye on who's around us at all times.

We're all street smart."

"I know." "Enough of this depressing stuff. It's time to go shopping," Heidi said. "Honestly, Lauren-my dear slave-this is my happy time.

I know you always worry about the dangerss of the world, but let's go shopping."

"Right, shopping," Deanna agreed.

Watching from a distance, homing in on the girls and trying to filter out other conversation, Mark took a long look at Deanna. She looked exhausted, as if she were suffering from a serious lack of sleep.

They hadn't seen him yet. He had his newspaper up in front of his face, his dark gla.s.ses in place. They were wandering slowly through the courtyard, as if unsure whether to leave or not.

"Coffee?" Deanna suggested.

"We'll get some on the way," Heidi said. "Let's go "Shopping," Lauren said dryly.

"I can tell you're still worried," Heidi said with a sigh.

"It was that woman last night. The fortune teller," Deanna said.

"We should never have made Lauren do what she didn't want to," Heidi admitted.

"It's over, and I'm all right. Let's go," Lauren said.

She walked right past him and didn't even notice him, Mark noticed with relief. The other two women followed in her wake and didn't spare him a glance, either.

At the exit from the courtyard, though, Lauren paused and looked back, as if puzzled. As if she thought she should be seeing something but didn't know what.

Her eyes fell on him, and she frowned. He stared back at her through the dark lenses of his gla.s.ses.

She hesitated, and he couldn't tell whether she recognized him from the night before or not. The newspaper was shielding most of his face, and her expression was uncertain.

Deanna, concentrating on arranging the strap of her purse, plowed into her. "Hey! I thought we were leaving," she said.

Lauren didn't respond. Instead, she walked back into the courtyard, and Mark watched her as she came toward him. "h.e.l.lo,"

she said, looking straight at him. His heart lurched. She looked so much like Katie.

"Hi."

"We met last night," she said.

"The bar," he agreed.

"You're staying here?"

"It's a great little place. I see that you and your friends have discovered it, too." He rose, extending a hand. "You told me your name, but I didn't tell you mine. Mark Davidson."

She accepted his hand. Touching her, even so casually, sent a jolt through him.

"My last name's Crow. Lauren Crow," she said softly. She turned to her friends, who had followed and were standing behind her. "These are my friends. Deanna??? and Heidi Weiss."

"Hi," they chimed in unison, stepping up to shake hands.

"You two know each other?" Deanna said.

"Not really. We met in the bar last night."

"Cool," Deanna said.

"We're here from LA. Where do you call home?" Heidi asked.