Five young women, most of them close to Miranda’s own twenty-nine years, giggled around a small bonfire. Taking off her shoes, she settled on a piece of driftwood close enough to the group to eavesdrop on their conversation, yet far enough away not to draw attention to herself.

       “Hey, Carly, someone better fill you in fast. Has anyone told you about the Night Stalker yet?”

       A cute curly-headed brunette shook her head. “I heard a little from my new landlord, but nothing much.”

       A voluptuous blonde danced around the fire using a wine bottle as a microphone to lip-synch with the music playing on their CD player. In between song lyrics and sips, she relayed the local legend for the girl’s benefit. “Well, then you probably haven’t heard the best parts. See, this guy came here a long time ago. My mom remembers him and she’s really old. Anyway, he lives in that house. He hardly ever leaves and no one has ever seen him during the day.”

       The chubby girl seated nearest the fire added her two cents to the story. “Yeah, and no one knows for sure what he does for a living either.”

       The attractive blonde shot her a warning look. “Anyway…” she dragged out the word to emphasize her annoyance at her chubby friend, “people say he’s an eccentric scientist working on a cure for AIDS because he gets these deliveries of blood and other medical stuff every month.”

       Miranda stifled a chuckle. She bent her head to act interested in a crab crossing the sand in front of her. How could intelligent people believe such dribble and miss the so-obvious truth?

       “Tell Carly the best part, Katie.” The anxious expression on the chubbette’s features told Miranda she valued Katie’s approval more than she should.

       Katie accepted the ass-kiss with fervor and bestowed an imperial nod to the chubbette. “I’m getting to that, Brenda. Anyway, the best part is he’s drop-dead movie-star gorgeous. We’re talking hot with a capital H here. And…” She paused to make certain all eyes were on her. “They say he has magnetic eyes that can make a woman do anything he wants.”

       Her audience gave a collective gasp and she puffed up under their attention. Tossing her hair in the confident manner of a beautiful twenty-something-year-old, Katie made the ultimate announcement. “They say he brings in prostitutes from other countries to satisfy his sexual urges. He’s never taken a local woman to bed. Until tonight.” Katie preened under their astonished stares like a princess basking in the adoration of her subjects. “I’m going seduce him. If he comes outside, of course.”

       Miranda had to hand it to Katie. She knew how to play an audience. Silence followed her bold declaration until another young blonde woman spoke.

       "No way, bitch. You’re just talking.”

       Ah, a competitor. Miranda ran her gaze between Katie and her opponent for the group’s attention. Within seconds, she recognized a long-standing rivalry between the two.

       Katie glared at the other girl. “You watch me, Brit.”

       Brit laughed and pointed toward the house. “Well, here’s your chance. Let’s see you put your bod where your mouth is.”

       Katie shifted on her feet and dropped her bold attitude momentarily before she rallied her bravado. To her credit, she raised her chin, combed through her hair, and pivoted to face the house. Miranda heard her sharp intake of air in the same instant she saw him.

       The figure stood on the upper deck of the house, a black form nearly invisible against the dark gray exterior. The wind picked up his shoulder-length hair, drawing awareness to the broad expanse of his shoulders. He stood straight and tall, a stationary front against the wind and fog, with a bearing that shouted strength and resolve. Yet, even with her acute sight, Miranda couldn’t make out any facial features.

       He’s the one.