CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
Juliet Bench had just sat down at a table in the train’s lounge car when she saw the man come in from the next car.
There he is again, she thought.
Shortly after she’d boarded the train, the same man had walked past her seat and stopped in the aisle to look at her—just long enough for her to notice—and then he had continued on his way.
And now he stood at the far end of the lounge car, looking at her again.
Do I know him? she wondered. The face didn’t seem familiar.
He was gazing downward now, his hands in his pockets.
Acting like he doesn’t notice me, Juliet thought.
But he looked up at her again and walked straight toward her table.
Juliet wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She didn’t travel much, especially by train, and she didn’t like to travel. Would tal
