"What are you doing in my bedroom?"

"I heard you scream."

She peered into the darkness. "You heard me? How?"

"I was outside."

Her panic ratcheted up a notch. "What were you doing outside my house at this time of night?" With a hand that trembled, she turned on the lamp on her bedside table.

"Perhaps I was just passing by."

"I don't believe you."

He shrugged, as if it didn't matter whether she believed him or not.

"I think you'd better leave."

"You screamed. What was it that frightened you? Did you see someone?"

She drew the covers up to her chin. "I had a bad dream, that's all." And you were in it, she thought, but didn't say so out loud.

He cocked his head to one side, his dark gaze intent upon her face, almost as if he was trying to read her mind. Fortunately, that was impossible.

"It must have been rather a frightening nightmare," he remarked. "To have you screaming so."

He looked like the stuff of nightmares, she thought, with his stark good looks and dark penetrating gaze. Add to that the fact that he wore a black shirt and pants beneath a long black duster and he was dressed for the part as well.

Her heart skipped a beat as he took a step toward the bed. She glanced wildly at the door, but Battista blocked that escape. Her gaze darted to the window, but that way out held dangers of its own, since her bedroom was on the second floor.

" Victoria, do not be afraid. I mean you no harm."

She wanted to believe him, but something in his tone, the heated look in his eyes, warned her that she would be wise to be afraid, though she had no idea what good that would do her. She had no defense against him. He was bigger than she was and certainly stronger.

She shook her head as he drew closer, her hand reaching for the crucifix she wore on a silver chain. Battista came to an abrupt halt as a ray of moonlight filtered through the window, its light seeming to illuminate the cross at her throat until it burned with a silver fire all its own.

"I did not mean to frighten you," he said, his gaze locked on the crucifix.

"You didn't." It was a lie, and a bold one.

He inclined his head. "May your faith keep you safe this night," he murmured.

And then, to her surprise, he turned and vanished out the window.

Chapter 6

In the morning, Vicki was certain she had imagined it all, or that it had been just another dream. Surely she had only imagined that Antonio Battista had been lurking in the shadowy corner of her bedroom last night. And only in a dream could he simply vanish out the window like Count Dracula!

Thinking of Dracula reminded her of her nightmare and she lifted a hand to her throat, then laughed self-consciously. Did she really expect to find two little puncture wounds in the side of her neck?

A wave of sweet relief left her feeling weak when her exploring fingers found nothing out of the ordinary. She must be losing her mind, she thought, dreaming of vampires, imagining Antonio in her room in the middle of the night, expecting to find bites in her neck.

The nightmare troubled her all that day, though she wasn't sure why. She had never believed in visions, didn't believe that dreams could foretell the future, didn't believe in paranormal creatures lurking in the night, so why did this particular dream continue to haunt her?

She left for work a little before six. In spite of the fact that it was a lovely, warm evening, she decided not to walk.

She was getting into the car when she felt a sudden coldness sweep over her. Pausing, she glanced around. There was no wind, no hint of a breeze, but the coldness persisted. It took her a moment to realize that the cold wasn't caused by anything physical; it was more like a sense of evil surrounding her, a sense of impending doom.

Like the feeling she'd had the first time she had seen Antonio Battista.

With a shiver, she got into the car and quickly closed and locked the door.

She felt better when she reached the diner. She nodded at Bobbie Sue, then went into the back room. She stashed her handbag in her locker, pulled on a clean apron, and grabbed a fresh pad and a pencil.

She stopped in the kitchen to say hello to Gus, then went out to start her shift.

The diner was busier than usual for a Thursday night, though the atmosphere was still somewhat subdued. Ned and Arnie sat at one of the tables by the front door where they could keep an eye on everyone who came into the diner. Ned was reading the sports pages, Arnie was working the crossword puzzle. Maddy Malone was sharing a table with Rex and judging from the looks on their faces, there was more going on than just dinner. Vicki grinned inwardly. It was about time. The two had been dancing around each other for over a year. In addition to the regulars, there were several people she hadn't seen at Ozzie's before.

"Hey, Vicki."

Hearing Ned's voice, she went to see what he wanted.

"Has that guy been in here again?" he asked.

She hesitated, then nodded. "Yes, he came in after you left on Tuesday night. He knew you'd been here."

Ned grunted softly. "Did he say anything that struck you as suspicious?"

"No."

"I don't suppose he told you where he's staying?" Arnie asked. "We've checked the hotel and he's not staying there, or anywhere else in town as far as we can tell."

"You be careful, Vicki," Ned said, his voice and expression sober. "There was another killing last night."

A coldness swept through Vicki. She had been with Antonio last night. Did that mean he was innocent? Or that he had walked her home and then committed another murder?

"Who was it?"

"No one from around here," Arnie said. "According to her driver's license, she lived in Nashville. We're trying to locate her next of kin. You make sure and have Gus walk you out to your car until we catch this guy."

"Was she…?" She couldn't bring herself to ask if she had been drained of blood.

"Yeah, same M.O." Arnie's gaze moved over her. "Be careful, Vicki. This guy only targets young single women with red hair and green eyes."

She nodded, the knot of fear in her stomach growing tighter.

"Be sure and keep your car doors locked," Ned said.

"And be sure to lock up at home, too," Arnie warned. "Don't open the door for anyone you don't know."

Vicki nodded. "Don't worry, I'll be careful."

The next two hours passed quickly and it wasn't until about eight-thirty that things slowed down. Vicki used the lull to refill the salt and pepper shakers and the sugar bowls, then she went into the kitchen for a cup of coffee.

When she returned to the dining area, Antonio was sitting at his usual booth in the back.

Was he the murderer? But no, she thought, he, too, had warned her to keep her doors locked and to refuse entry to anyone she didn't know. But then, maybe that was just to throw her off the scent. Still, if he'd wanted to kill her, he'd had plenty of opportunity the night before.

He smiled as she approached the booth.

"The police are still looking for you."

"Indeed?"

"There's been another murder."

He swore under his breath. "Was it someone you knew?"

"No." She started to offer him a menu, then hesitated. "I don't suppose you need this?"

"No."

She tilted her head to one side. "Why do you come here every night?"

"You asked me that before," he reminded her with a faint grin. "Do you remember what I said?"

A faint flush climbed up her neck and into her cheeks. "You said it was to see me, but that's ridiculous. We don't even know each other."

"I know you." His voice was as dark as midnight, as deep as eternity.

She had to swallow before she could find her voice again. "Shall I bring you anything?"

"No need."

She laughed softly. "I'm beginning to think you're some kind of eccentric character who likes to sit in diners and leave big tips."

"You have found me out, Victoria Cavendish." He glanced past her. "I think the chef is trying to get your attention."

"What? Oh, I'd better go." She turned to wave at Gus. When she looked back to where Antonio had been sitting, she saw a twenty dollar bill under the water glass, but he was gone.

Vicki frowned. How had he gotten past her without her noticing? She had only glanced away for a few seconds.

It was near closing time when another stranger entered the diner. He was a big man.

Not just tall, but big, and built like a pro football player. He wore a pair of gray trousers and a white sports shirt open at the throat. But it wasn't his size that caused her to notice him. There was something about him besides his size, something in the way his gaze moved over everyone in the place. She had the feeling he didn't miss a thing.

Pasting a smile on her face, she offered him a menu. "Can I bring you a cup of coffee?"

"Black, thanks." He wore his dark brown hair short. His eyes, also brown, were wary and old beyond his years. His hands were big and capable looking. A heavy gold cross on a thick gold chain hung from his neck. Turning away from the table, she found herself wondering what he did for a living. Something that required a lot of strength, she guessed.

She returned with his coffee a few moments later. "So, what can I get you?"

"Steak and fries."

She jotted it down on her pad. "How would you like your steak?"

"Well done."

"Can I get you a salad to go with that?"

"No, thanks."

"Gotcha." She smiled at him again, a real smile this time, because he looked like he could use one. He smiled back and she realized that he wasn't bad looking.

"You've got pretty hair," he remarked. "Is it natural?"

She nodded, a sudden jolt of fear coursing through her. The murderer liked women with red hair.