The second thing he saw was Sophie. On her back on the kitchen table. Her arms hung on either side. Her empty eyes were open.

“No.” His hands started to shake. With the quiet, mechanical processing of shock, he saw the neat round hole in her forehead, and the gore spattered on the table. “No.”

Laney came up behind him. She gasped, hands flying to her face.

A man sat at the head of the table. His hair was gray, his face weathered. Duct tape lashed him to the chair. Deep cuts on his arms split the skin in red tears. Muscle and fat bulged through like fabric from an overstuffed cushion.

Laney whimpered. “Oh god.”

Daniel stared. The writer in him put the scene together. Bennett making Sophie watch as he tortured her lover. Asking questions. Telling her that it would all end if she told him what he wanted to know. If she told him where a half-million-dollar necklace was hidden.

Asking questions she didn’t know the answer to.

Laney came up behind him, buried her face in his back. He could feel her warmth, and the hectic beat of her heart. The vibrating ring of his cell phone hit like electric shock. He scrabbled back, slapping at his pocket with one hand, pulled the cell phone free. “Motherfucker. You evil motherfucker.”

“This is on you, Daniel.”

Bile spilled up his throat. “I swear to god—”

“Oh, stop. All you had to do was pay me.”

“I will never fucking give you—”

“Then I’ll visit someone else. Maybe Laney’s buddy. Robert Cameron. After all, he was nice enough to loan you his car.”

Daniel straightened, pushed away from Laney. How did Bennett know—

“A PT Cruiser, interesting choice for an actor. Distinctive, I guess, but a little pedestrian.”

Adrenaline dumped into his bloodstream. He shoved Laney back from the archway, sprinted to the living room, phone in one hand, gun in the other. Easing around the edge of the window, Daniel peered out. The porch was empty. So was the lawn and the front walk.

There was a silver Jaguar across the street. As his eyes fell on it, the dome light snapped on. The interior of the car glowed against the purple light of evening. Bennett lounged behind the wheel. He raised one hand. His lips moved, and a fraction of a second later, Daniel heard his voice through the phone. “Hi.”

Daniel narrowed his eyes. Took a step back, raised the pistol.

“Tricky one,” Bennett said. “Thirty yards with a sidearm through two panes of glass. And you’re firing one-handed. Plus . . .” The dome light snapped off, and darkness washed the interior of the Jaguar. “Now you can’t even see your target. What do you say, Daniel? Want to try for a lucky shot?”

He stared down the barrel, aimed square at the place Bennett’s head had been. He could do this. He knew he could. His hands were steady, his aim sure.

Do it. Now!

His finger wouldn’t move.

“On the other hand, I’ve got my pistol propped on the seat and aimed with both hands. What do you think, Sundance? Want to bet which of us hits? Want to guess what happens to your lovely bride afterwards?”

A shiver curled inside him as a vision of Laney in Sophie’s place flashed into his imagination. The car swam between the sights. Daniel lowered the gun, stepped away from the window. “We don’t have the necklace with us. If you kill us, you get nothing.”

“I know that. Why do you think I’m not inside?”

A terrible revelation seized him. “You killed her as a lesson.”

“That’s right. And you’ve got other friends. This isn’t a boxing match. We’re not going to fight fair. You try to screw me again and maybe it will be Robert Cameron tied to a chair and whimpering like a Girl Scout. You go to the police, and while they’re working on you, I’ll be working on Laney. No one can protect you. There is no safe place to hide. Do you understand?”

Daniel closed his eyes. The broken body of his friend stared at him from the darkness behind his lids. “Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I understand.”

“Now, I believe that you don’t have the necklace with you. You hid it somewhere. Go get it. Or tomorrow I visit another of your friends.” The line went dead. A moment later, an engine revved. Daniel stepped back in front of the window, watched the Jag pull away. He squinted, caught the license plate, 5BBM299. Of course, it’s not his any more than the one on the BMW is yours.

“Daniel?”

He turned. Laney was framed in the archway, silhouetted by the kitchen light.

“He’s gone.” But not far. Never far. It took him two tries to lock the safety on the Sig Sauer. His fingers were carved out of wood. His legs were heavy. Numb. “He said that we have to get him the necklace. That he would come after Robert if we don’t, and others. I should have—there was a second there, where I could have—why didn’t I shoot him?”

“Stop.” Laney stepped forward, wrapped her arms around him. He stiffened. Didn’t want to be touched, didn’t want comfort. Didn’t deserve it. A beautiful person, a beautiful friend, gone. Her last moments horror. Because of him.

The sob took him by surprise, seemed to break from somewhere deep inside. Laney reached up to stroke his neck. He struggled. “Let me—”

“Stop, baby.” She seemed to be wrapping her whole self around him. “Stop.”

He squeezed his eyes closed hard enough to see stars and spots. They almost blurred out the vision of Sophie. His body shook, his chest heaved. The sounds he made weren’t quite crying. More like grunting, an animal sound. No tears came. Just ragged heaves of pain.

“Shhh. Shhh.” She pressed against him, primal in her comfort.

He didn’t know how long they stood like that, while the world outside darkened and the pistol he hadn’t fired dug into his belly and Sophie . . .

Finally, he took a deep breath. Patted Laney’s back. He pulled away, and this time she let him.

Daniel rolled his shoulders, shook his head. He had a flash of Sophie in her kitchen, washing the coffee mugs, talking over her shoulder. The ease of that moment, the familiarity. She had been the first person to touch him. The hug she had given him this morning— my god, only this morning?—had brought him back from the dead.

He took a deep breath, then opened his cell phone.

“Who are you calling?”

“911.”

“What?”

Daniel pressed send, raised the phone to his ear, turned to look out the window. Be calm, but specific. Give them the address. Tell them there’s been a murder—