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returned in the nick of time. If Peter suspected that she was still alive, he might sic a private investigator on her friends. Any contact, no matter how brief, might be traced. Rainie couldn’t take that chance. Peter would kill her if he found her. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind about that. Don’t call us; don’t write to us, Janet had warned. No news will be good news. We’ll know you’re out there somewhere, starting a new life. That’s all we need to know.
    And so it had to be. If it ever came out that Janet had been aboard the Ocean Jewel the night Rainie vanished, someone might start connecting the dots.
    With trembling fingertips, Rainie touched the small scar that angled over her cheekbone, a memento of one terrible night when Peter had flown into a rage. In time, the scar might fade, but it would never disappear entirely. Every time Rainie looked in a mirror for the rest of her life, she would be reminded of her past mistakes and all the reasons she’d vowed not to repeat them. She would never again jump into a relationship with blinders on. She would never again give a man control over her life. She would never again trust someone just because he seemed wonderful and kind.
    With a mild start, Rainie realized that her mind had wandered from the task at hand, which was to find gainful employment. Bookkeeping. She circled the ranch job again, and then tapped the tip of her pen on the paper. It wouldn’t be a very challenging job, but it was better than waiting tables, filling fast-food orders, or working in a motel laundry room. And, hey, the advertisement said “benefits,” which led her to think the pay might be halfway decent as well. It was worth making a phone call.
    As Rainie pushed up from her chair, a slight rattling sound came at the back door. Her heart skittered and missed a beat. Was someone trying to break in? The old lady next door had assured Rainie that this run-down neighborhood was safe, that she’d lived in the other half of this two-family dwelling for almost twenty years and never had a single problem. The door rattled again, making Rainie jump. Peter? The thought was never far from her mind that he might be only one step behind her.
    Reacting instinctively, Rainie hit the light switch to plunge the kitchen back into shadow. Then, shivering with trepidation, she moved toward the battered door. The dingy curtain that covered the window prevented her from seeing out onto the porch. She lifted a lank ruffle, leaned cautiously forward to peer out into the semidarkness, and saw . . . a cat, pushing at the barricaded kitty door with a bewhiskered nose.
    Over the last week, Rainie had often wondered about the oversize feline who’d needed a Fat Cat door. This furry tom was indeed large, but if he’d ever been rotund, lean times had trimmed him down to little more than skin stretched over bone. Pity tugged at Rainie’s heart. She quickly bent to remove the metal panel that prevented the poor animal from entering. With a disgruntled meow, the cat jumped through the opening and immediately began circling Rainie’s feet, his meows increasing in volume until she had no doubt that he was hungry and hoping to be fed.
    Crouching down, Rainie ran her hand over the gray tabby’s arched back. “You poor baby. Did your family move away and leave you?”
    The possibility was inconceivable to Rainie. On the other hand, she’d come to understand during her marriage that not everyone lived by her rules. Maybe the cat’s former owners had fallen on hard times. People in low-rent districts often led a hand-to-mouth existence, barely managing to care for themselves, let alone a pet. There was also the possibility that the cat had a strong homing instinct and had left his owners to return to familiar turf.
    Rainie had always wanted a cat or dog. Unfortunately, her dad had been allergic, and Peter had objected to anything furry, fearing that Rainie might come to love an animal more than she did him.