Kevin O'Brien - Disturbed

He smiled and nodded. “Very good, Ms. — ?”

Molly tried to ignore Angela out of the corner of her eye. She hesitated. “Dennehy.”

“Ms. Dennehy is correct,” Blazevich announced. “I scoped out your cul-de-sac last night, and found some things that might make you vulnerable to a breakin — just the kind of stuff a burglar would look for. . ”

Molly glanced over at Angela and her pals on the sofa. Lynette shot her a look, and then whispered something in Angela’s ear.

Molly turned away — just as Henry leaned in close to her. “Hell, if I knew this hunk was driving around our block, looking to break in to somebody’s home, I’d have left the front door open.”

Molly patted his knee and then turned her attention to Chet Blazevich. She felt a bit sorry for him. As he explained about their need for more streetlights and recommended spotlights for their back and side yards, the trio on the couch were still whispering to one another. Mrs. Nguyen pulled out some knitting and went to work on an ugly pink and maroon scarf — or maybe it was a sweater, Molly couldn’t tell for sure. Blazevich had to talk loudly over the clink, clink, clink of her knitting needles. Then Henry’s cell phone rang, and he went to talk on it in the kitchen. For a while, Molly felt like the only one paying any attention to the poor cop.

He was talking about how if they noticed any kind of maintenance truck on the block — a plumber, electrician, or a carpet cleaning service — it was best to check with neighbors to make certain the service truck was legitimate. That was when Kay Garvey raised her hand. “Excuse me. Do you know anything about this murder last night at the Arboretum?”

Gaping at her, Blazevich looked stumped for a moment.

“This Ray Corson person who was killed,” Kay explained. “He was the guidance counselor at our kids’ high school. So naturally, we’re concerned.”

Blazevich shoved his hands in his pockets. “I understand, but — um, I can’t tell you any more than what’s been on the news. It’s not my case.”

“Is it really true he just happened to run out of gas by that park?” Lynette pressed. “Or is that something the media is saying to protect his family or his reputation or whatever?”

Blazevich shrugged. “I’m sorry. As I said, it’s not my case.”

“You were talking about service trucks on the block,” Molly spoke up. “Is that something burglars do when they’re casing a house or a neighborhood?”

He smiled at her. “Yes, thank you, Ms. Dennehy.”

“And is that something this Cul-de-sac Killer might do when he’s figuring out where to strike next?”

Blazevich’s smile faded and he nodded somberly. “Yes, we believe these killings are well planned. He knows ahead of time exactly where, when, and how he’s going to gain entry into a house. And we think he has a pretty good idea of how many people are in that house. . ”

Mrs. Nguyen ceased knitting, and Angela’s group suddenly stopped whispering to each other. Henry quietly returned to the folding chair beside Molly.

“So — be cautious, be concerned,” the policeman said. “Just the few extra seconds it takes to watch for strangers driving or walking around your cul-de-sac may be enough to prevent a crime.”

Molly was thinking of all the strangers who house-sat for the Nguyens. It would be tough to keep track of who was supposed to be there and who wasn’t. “Is there anything else we should be on the lookout for?” she asked. “Any warning signs specific to these — killings?”

Folding his arms, the cop hesitated before answering. “This hasn’t been made known to the general public, for reasons I’ll explain later. But if you notice your no-outlet or dead-end sign at the start of the cul-de-sac is missing, report it to the police immediately. With each murder, the sign at the beginning of the street was gone. We believe the killer takes the signs — possibly ahead of time — and keeps them as souvenirs or trophies of his crimes. We’re doing our best to warn people who live on cul-de-sacs like this one. Unfortunately, some teenagers have heard about it, and we’ve had a rise in incidents with kids stealing the dead-end signs as a prank. So — if you do see a sign is missing, don’t panic, but definitely report it to the police right away.”

The policeman glanced around the room. “Now, even if you’re taking all the proper precautions,” he said, “you still might be a bit nervous in the house after dark — especially if your spouse is away, or if one of your children has seen the news stories about these murders, and they’re scared. One thing you don’t want to do is turn on all the lights in the house. Since this has become part of the killer’s ritual, you don’t want to alarm the neighbors. Instead, call a neighbor if you’re scared or you suspect trouble. Count on each other for help. You might even agree on a code word to use if you have reason to believe an intruder is in the house, listening in. . ”

Molly found herself clinging to Henry’s arm. Once he and Frank moved away, she wondered who she’d call if she got scared.

After Detective Blazevich finished his presentation, he passed around some Neighborhood Watch leaflets and had everyone sign an official attendance form. It was all so they could post a NEIGHBORHOOD WATCH placard by the NO OUTLET sign at the start of Willow Tree Court — as if that would keep away a serial killer.

Henry had to hurry off to an appointment. Molly retreated to the kitchen for the Tupperware container in which she’d brought her Toll House cookies. Only a couple had been eaten, and she didn’t want Squeaky throwing the rest away, which she most certainly would do — out of spite. Jeff, Chris, and Erin would be happy to eat them.

She was at the buffet table, transferring the cookies from Lynette’s plate to the plastic container, when Detective Blazevich came up to her side. Standing this close to him now, Molly felt a certain electricity from him that she hadn’t experienced with anyone since first meeting Jeff a year ago. She could tell he was attracted to her — and it was flattering, embarrassing, and titillating.

“I’d like to thank you, Ms. Dennehy,” he whispered.

“Molly,” she said, with a cordial smile.

“For a while there, Molly, you seemed to be the only one listening to me. . ”

She stole a glance at Angela in the kitchen, watching their every move. From the family room, Kay and Lynette were staring at them, too.

“Well, it seems you certainly have their attention now,” Molly said under her breath.

“Something tells me you’re the new neighbor on the block,” he said, helping himself to one of her Toll House cookies. “You don’t seem to be part of the clique here.”

Molly nodded. “You’re a very good detective.”

“Damn, these are great,” he said, munching on the cookie. “Better than the other batch. Why weren’t they passing these around?”

“Because I baked them,” she replied quietly. “Our hostess made the other batch. It’s a long story, Detective.” Grabbing a napkin from the table, she wrapped a few cookies in it and handed it to him. “Here, take some home with you.”

“Well, thanks.” His fingers grazed hers as he took the napkin.

Molly glanced at Angela in the kitchen and Angela’s gal pals in the Hahns’ family room. They were still staring.

Blazevich reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. “Listen — Molly, I appreciated your thoughtful questions earlier.” He handed her the card. “If you have any more questions or concerns, please don’t hesitate to call. My cell phone number is on there, too.”

Molly took the card. She saw the others were still watching and took a tiny step back from the cop.