Tears streamed down her face.

She collected up her darts and threw them one by one, hard, her aim off, but she gathered them up and threw them again, harder this time, her aim truer. It was the aftereffects of the shock of the attack, the confusion of dealing with Jeremiah and his jewel thief, the realization that she was alone, alone, alone.

At the end of the symphony, she was singing along like a maniac, and it was just as well her godfather was on another continent.

But she felt better. This, she thought, was what she’d needed. And maybe Jeremiah knew it.

She aimed a final dart, threw it, and stuck out her tongue in defiance when it went wild and hit a lamp. She returned to the kitchen, poured herself a glass of wine, and sat out on her deck, letting the sounds of the Palm Beach night soothe her tattered nerves and absorb her soul.

When she finally ventured to bed, she had it solid in her head once more: It would be stupid to fall for Jeremiah Tabak all over again.

Griffen and Deegan stopped by first thing Saturday morning with muffins, coffee, and the Palm Beach Daily News, or the Shiny Sheet, as the locals called it. They dragged Mollie out to the pool and made her sit in the sun. She noticed how the morning light intensified the yellows, pinks, oranges, and reds of the impatiens, hibiscus, begonias, and bougainvillea and brought out the nuances in all the different shades of green of the palms and live oak and shrubs, even the grass. She seemed hyper-aware of everything, and the smell of fresh, warm blueberry muffins struck her as perfection.

Griffen spread the muffins and coffee on a small table and mock-slapped Mollie’s hand when she started to serve herself. “You are going to sit back and be pampered-at least for ten minutes. Let’s see this neck,” she said, and winced when Mollie peeled back her polo shirt. “Ouch.”

“It only hurts when I touch it.”

Deegan made a face. “Nice color, anyway.”

“I consider myself lucky,” Mollie said. “He could have slit my throat.”

Griffen shuddered. “Don’t even think about it. I’m sorry we weren’t there to provide moral support, but we’d already made our exit. I’ve had my fill of Granny Atwood, that’s it, I’m on the move.” She handed Mollie a generously buttered muffin, coffee, and a napkin. “Sorry the napkin’s not cloth, but we have to work with what we’ve got.”

Deegan helped himself to a muffin. “You must have been scared shitless, Mollie. I can’t imagine. I’ve never been attacked like that.”

“It was pretty scary, but I’m feeling much better now.”

“Here we were thinking we had kind of a fun jewel thief on our hands-daring but nonviolent. Nobody sees him, nobody gets hurt. Now…” He shrugged, tearing open his muffin. “I don’t know.”

“Yeah,” Griffen said, “last night changes everything. I don’t think this guy’s in it for the money. It’s not greed with him, it’s the thrills. Maybe he changed his MO to get a bigger thrill. You know, go extreme.”

“What’s the Shiny Sheet say?” Mollie asked, biting into her muffin, trying to stay focused on the present, not relive last night.

Griffen showed her the article, which was short, stuck to the facts, and had nothing to report that Mollie didn’t already know. “It was silly of me to wear that necklace,” she said.

Griffen didn’t argue. “Have you told Leonardo?”

“Not yet. He’ll be very understanding-this’ll just confirm his suspicion that that necklace was jinxed. Deegan, how’s your grandmother? The attack really ended her party on a sour note.”

“I haven’t talked to her, but she’s an old pro. She’ll find a way to work it all to her advantage. My bet is she’ll throw it off onto the hotel. You’ll notice the article says you were attacked at the hotel, not at Gran’s pre-ball cocktail party. It doesn’t even mention the party, just says you were at the Sands for the charity ball.”

“I keep thinking if I’d been more alert…” Mollie sighed, sinking back into her chair with her muffin and coffee, the warmth of the sun on her. “If I’d at least gotten a good look at him.”

“Did you see him at all?” Griffen asked.

Mollie shook her head. “There wasn’t enough time. I tried to get back up on my feet-” She stopped, her stomach lurching at the memory. “I guess I didn’t really know if he was finished with me.”

Griffen shuddered, plopping down on a chair next to her. “Jesus, Mollie.”

“Well. It all worked out in the end.”

“I heard Jeremiah Tabak got to you first.” She angled Mollie a look. “You sure there’s nothing between the two of you?”

“Yes, I’m sure there’s nothing between us, but I guess-well, we did meet before, when I was in Miami on spring break in college. It was pure happenstance that we ran into each other again.”

“You’re kidding.” Instantly intrigued, Griffen sat up straight, muffin crumbs falling on her lap; she had on one of her many sundresses, looking exotic and beautiful even on a Saturday morning. “Must have been a hell of a spring break for you to remember each other.”

Mollie ate more muffin, welcoming the sweetness of the blueberries, noticing everything about this moment. The flowers, the sun, the slight breeze, the birds. If she could stay in the moment, she could keep herself from spinning totally out of control. She debated how much to tell Griffen about her past relationship with one of Miami’s more famous reporters, “I sort of got caught up in a drug-dealing story he was working on. I wasn’t involved or anything. Anyway, it ended up on the front page after I headed back to Boston.”

“I see,” Griffen said, dubious.

“It’s true.”

“I’m sure it is, as far as it goes.” She reached for another still-warm blueberry muffin and placed it on Mollie’s lap. “You need to eat. You’re still pale as a damned ghost. I wished I’d run into that thief last night.” She squinted up at Deegan, who was eating his muffins and drinking coffee on his feet. “We’d have nailed his ass, wouldn’t we, Deeg?”

He grinned at her. “I’d have let you have first crack at him.”

“And relax, Mollie,” Griffen said, giving her a friendly pat on the knee, “I’m not getting out the thumbscrews to find out the rest about you and Tabak, although, I don’t know…I think I can see you two together…”

“Griffen!”

She laughed. “You can be such a Boston prude, you know that? Honestly. However, we didn’t come here to harangue you. The police will step up their investigation now that this guy’s shown a capacity for violence. The Palm Beach crowd won’t stand for a cocky thief waltzing into their parties and ripping necklaces off their throats. I expect they’ll beef up security, too. In fact, I’m catering a luncheon on Tuesday on that very subject. One of the women’s societies is sponsoring it. You should come.”

“I might,” Mollie said.

They finished the muffins and coffee, chatting about the weather and the weekend goings-on and a little bit about work. Griffen and Deegan were off to the beach for a couple of hours before she had to pull together a small dinner party up in West Palm that evening.

After they left, Mollie found herself wandering around on the terrace and in the yard, smelling flowers, trying to stop herself from shaking. She’d thought she’d be fine this morning. And she wasn’t. She kept thinking of the gloved hand on her neck, of her relief when Jeremiah came to her side, of his questions and suspicions and his damned open mind.

“Damn it,” she said aloud, charging across the lawn. She didn’t stop at the pool’s edge. She just thought, to hell with it, and jumped in, clothes and bruised, cut neck and all. The muffins and coffee churned in her stomach, but the water was just cool enough, refreshing, swirling around her and slowly, inexorably easing out the accumulated tension in her mind and body. She swam until her muscles cried out in protest, then crawled out of the pool and lay on her stomach on the warm terrace, letting the sun dry her, telling herself if Jeremiah had stayed last night, they’d both be regretting it now.