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frightened her. She could not imagine a rapist or murderer owning such a friendly animal. The dog was practically dancing around at the end of the leash as she approached, eager to make her acquaintance.
    “You’re the new owner, I take it?” he said.
    “Julia Hamill.”
    “Tom Page. I live right down the road.” He started to shake her hand, then remembered the plastic bag he was holding and gave an embarrassed laugh. “Oops. Doggy doo. I was trying to pick up after him.”
    So that’s why he’d crouched momentarily in the grass, she thought. He was just cleaning up after his pet.
    The dog gave an impatient bark and jumped up on his hind legs, begging for Julia’s attention.
    “McCoy! Down, boy!” Tom yanked on the leash, and the dog reluctantly obeyed.
    “McCoy, as in real McCoy?” she asked.
    “Um, no. As in Dr. McCoy.”
    “Oh.
Star Trek.
”
    He regarded her with a sheepish smile. “I guess that dates me. It’s scary how many kids these days have never heard of Dr. McCoy. It makes me feel ancient.”
    But he was certainly not ancient, she thought. Maybe in his early forties. Through her kitchen window, his hair had appeared black; now that she was closer, she could see threads of gray mingled there, and his dark eyes, squinting in the morning sunlight, were framed by well-used laugh lines.
    “I’m glad somebody finally bought Hilda’s place,” he said, glancing toward the house. “It was looking pretty lonely there for a while.”
    “It’s in rather bad shape.”
    “She really couldn’t keep it up. This yard was too much for her, but she was so damn territorial, she’d never let anyone else work in it.” He glanced toward the patch of bare earth, where the bones had been exhumed. “If she had, they might’ve found that skeleton a long time ago.”
    “You’ve heard about it.”
    “The whole neighborhood has. I came by a few weeks ago to watch them digging. You had a whole crew out here.”
    “I didn’t see you.”
    “I didn’t want you to think I was being too nosy. But I was curious.” He looked at her, his eyes so direct it made her feel uneasy, as though she could feel his gaze probing the contours of her brain. “How do you like the neighborhood?” he asked. “Aside from the skeletons?”
    She hugged herself in the morning chill. “I don’t know.”
    “You haven’t decided yet?”
    “I mean, I love Weston, but I’m a little spooked by the bones. Knowing she was buried here all those years. It makes me feel…” She shrugged. “Lonely, I guess.” She stared toward the grave site. “I wish I knew who she was.”
    “The university couldn’t tell you?”
    “They think the grave’s early nineteenth century. Her skull was fractured in two places, and she was buried without much care. Just wrapped in an animal hide and dumped into the ground, without any ceremony. As if they were in a hurry to dispose of her.”
    “A fractured skull and a quick burial? That sounds an awful lot like murder to me.”
    She looked at him. “I think so, too.”
    They said nothing for a moment. The mist had almost lifted now, and in the trees, birds chirped. Not crows this time, but songbirds, flitting gracefully from twig to twig. Odd, she thought, how the crows have simply vanished.
    “Is that your phone ringing?” he asked.
    Suddenly aware of the sound, she glanced toward the house. “I’d better get that.”
    “It was nice meeting you!” he called out as she ran up the steps to her porch. By the time she made it into her kitchen, he was moving on, dragging the reluctant McCoy after him. Already she’d forgotten his last name. Had he or had he not been wearing a wedding band?
    It was Vicky on the phone. “So what’s the latest installment of
Home Improvement
?” she asked.
    “I tiled the bathroom floor last night.” Julia’s gaze was still on her garden, where Tom’s brown sweater was now fading into the shadows beneath the trees. That old sweater must be a favorite of his,