“There’s a party tonight. After a screening. It’s at a club downtown, Lux. The cast from the movie has rented out the VIP room. They’re rap stars, and they want to look tough, so there are going to be metal detectors at the entrance.”
Bennett laughed. “Why, Daniel, that’s ingenious. Bravo.”
“We’re going to get the necklace now. We’ll be at the club at nine-thirty.”
“Sounds like fun. I’ll see you there.” He started to hang up, then said, “Hey, what’s the movie?”
“What?”
“The screening, what is it?”
A beat. “It’s called Die Today.”
“Yikes. Bad omen, huh?”
Another long pause. “Nine-thirty. After that, you leave us alone.” The line went dead.
Bennett smiled. Leaned back on the stone of the pool deck. The sun had cooked the tiles, and the warmth felt nice against his back. He traced the dimpled scar tissue on his stomach, fingers finding the pockmarks of healed bullet holes, one-two-three. Mementos of a deal in Baltimore.
It was possible that Daniel and Laney still believed he’d let them live. But he doubted it. Before, maybe, but now things had gone too far.
No, they’d try to get clever. Maybe have police there undercover. Or a friend, some half-assed tough guy to help. Could even be the rap star.
Most important, they’d be counting on him not having his gun. Taking comfort in the location. Feeling safe because he was unarmed and all those witnesses were about, as if that meant nothing bad could happen to them.
It showed a lack of imagination on their part.
5
Daniel closed his phone, set it in the cup holder. Squirmed in his seat. The half a bagel and coffee he’d managed to choke down lay heavy in his stomach, and the ride out to Malibu wasn’t making it better. Last night he’d treated this like a story, and written an ending for it. But Bennett wasn’t a script problem. And no story had just one ending.
“They fixed it already,” Laney said.
“What?”
She took a hand off the steering wheel, pointed. He didn’t see
anything special, just a metal barrier on a wicked curve—oh. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Are you—”
“I’m fine. It’s just strange.” She spoke to the windshield. “It’s as though nothing ever happened. Already.”
“Life is a raindrop.”
“What?” She turned to look at him.
“Something Sophie told me. Life is a raindrop.”
“It’s pretty. What does it mean?”
“I don’t know.” He paused. “I guess that every life is beautiful and self-contained and unique and yet also short and totally insignificant.”
“You really know how to cheer a girl up.”
“Sorry.”
The traffic on Highway 1 was light. She kept it at the speed limit. The road was as beautiful as ever, the homes as magnificent, the view as lush, but it felt distant, as though seen through thick glass.
“Are you sure the cops won’t be there?”
“I don’t think so,” Daniel said. “They’re busy. Having someone parked on our block day after day would add up, especially since they wouldn’t guess we’re headed there.”
“They came when you were there before. Getting our wedding photo.”
“Yeah, but it was just a patrol. They probably drive by once an hour. And more at night.”
“What if—”
“We don’t really have a choice.”
She nodded slowly. Her grip on the wheel didn’t loosen any.
Half an hour later, they’d made it to their neighborhood. Everything seemed calm as ever. The PT Cruiser was spotless and shiny and no one should be looking for it. Laney had her makeup back on, the port wine stain painted around her eye, her now-blond hair down. At a glance, they were normal people.
They drove the neighborhood first, avoiding their street, just getting a sense of things. He used the time to review the plan again. Picturing it as a plot outline. Looking at surprises, at twists, at the expected actions of their antagonist. On paper, it looked good.
But she’s right. You don’t write the world.
His stomach churned, but he kept his face calm. “Looks clear. Let’s go.”
Three minutes later, they were pulling up to their security gate. It was strange how many different things it meant to him, this California Contemporary with a lot of glass. The house he’d seen on television. In his dreams. The one he’d visited when he didn’t know who he was, and returned to in order to find out when his life had begun. And now, this final visit, and final incarnation. The central element in their plan to win back their life—or die trying.
Laney keyed in the code. Their anniversary. Of course. The gate swung open, and she pulled in, then around the circle so the car was out of sight and facing forward.
The keys jingled in her shaking hands as she shut off the motor.
5
INT. DANIEL & LANEY’S FOYER—NOON
The shot is from a locked down camera, low and pointing at the front door.
The door opens. LANEY THAYER and DANIEL HAYES enter. He closes the door, then peers out the window beside it.
DANIEL No sign of him.
LANEY
Yet.
They walk toward the stairs.
DANIEL
We can always go to the police instead— LANEY
We’ve been through that.
They pass the camera as they climb. Their voices continue, tension evident, but the words unclear.
INT. MASTER BEDROOM—CONTINUOUS
The camera seems to be shooting from the nightstand. Laney moves to the dresser and starts opening drawers. Daniel glances longingly at the bed.
LANEY
You really don’t have any idea where you put it?
DANIEL
Nope.
He moves to the nightstand, checks it. Drops to his knees, looks under the bed.
LANEY
Anything?
DANIEL
Nope.
He straightens, looks around, obviously frustrated.
LANEY Maybe it’s not—
DANIEL It has to be.
LANEY Why?
DANIEL
Just keep looking.
They continue searching.
Laney straightens, rubs her back. They look at each other. She shakes her head.