The Stranger You Seek

The Stranger You Seek - By Amanda Kyle Williams




PROLOGUE





The sun had not even burned dew off the grass under the live oaks, but the air was thick and soupy already, air you could swim around in, and it was dead-summer hot.

Inside the car she had not yet noticed parked on her street, a patient hunter dabbed at a trickle of perspiration and watched as Westmore Drive began a sleepy jog toward midweek.

The white-trimmed windows in the small brick house were flung open around seven, and she first appeared as a faint image behind the kitchen window, nearly abstract behind glass and screen, but no less an object of desire. The smell of cooking food drifted from her screened windows—frying bacon and toast and coffee—and Lei Koto’s killer felt the first stab of hunger this placid summer morning.

A little before ten the street was silent. The last neighbor had left for work, 9:50 on the dot as always. The smells from Lei Koto’s kitchen had shifted from breakfast to something else, something green and cabbagy and rank.

The car door opened, then footsteps on the concrete walk, a briefcase, good shoes, a white smile, a business card.

They always open the door.