Now.
Laney reached into her purse, feeling for the revolver. Her fingers traced the hard, cool edges of the—
—glass?
She jerked her hand out, found herself holding a heavy-bottomed tumbler, a couple of drops of amber liquid still in the bottom.
An image flashed across her eyes. Bennett coming up behind them. Close enough to her purse that all he had to do was look down.
He must have seen the gun and slipped it out of her purse, trading the glass in for weight.
Oh god. Oh, god, no.
She turned, wanting to warn Daniel, to tell him to run, but Bennett was right there. His smile was bland and cold. “So, Daniel, you were wrong. At your house today, you said at the end of the night, you’d be holding a gun”—Bennett reached for his waist, drew the pistol, and pointed it at her beautiful husband—“and I wouldn’t.”
No, it won’t work, not now, no—
“Tell me something. You’re a writer, you’re supposed to understand the human heart, all that stuff. Why is it that when you tell people to trust you, they tend to?”
“We want to believe in each other.”
“Simple as that?”
Daniel shrugged. “I wouldn’t say simple.” He looked at Laney. He’s waiting for you to hand him the gun. And all you have is a
glass.
Her head and heart screamed to move, to try something, to charge Bennett.
“Never made sense to me. Words are just breath with sound. For example, I promised I wouldn’t hurt you.” Bennett pulled the trigger.
The hammer fell with a click, as she expected.
“Actually,” Daniel reached behind his back and pulled out the snub-nose revolver. With his left hand, he drew out a handful of shells from his pocket. “What I said was, I’d be holding a loaded gun, and you wouldn’t.”
It was like she’d been bound by iron bands and someone had cut them. She could suddenly breathe, smile, even laugh. He’d done it. Somehow, her baby had pulled it off.
Then Daniel turned and pointed the gun at her. “Go stand over there with him.”
5
There was a high-pitched hum ringing through his brain, and he knew it for the howl he wouldn’t let himself make.
She lied to you. She and Bennett are in this together. There’s no way to win. But that doesn’t mean you have to let them.
Better all three of them end up on the concrete.
Laney said, “What?”
Bennett said, “How?”
“I hid two guns in the bathroom. We picked up this one,” he moved it to point at Bennett, “at the house this afternoon, and I hid it in the ceiling. The plan was to put it in Laney’s purse in case you searched me. But that was before I knew she was lying to me.”
“Daniel, what are you doing?” Her voice frantic. “What are you—”
“I saw your cell phone. You talked to him yesterday. From the hotel.”
She looked at Bennett, then back at him. “Yes. But it’s not what—”
“I don’t want to hear it.” His headache was an avalanche, a stampede, a typhoon. “You know, ever since I lost my memory, I’ve been looking for you. I thought you were the center of my world. But you were the reason I tried to kill myself, weren’t you?”
Bennett’s mask of cool had slipped, revealing the creature behind it, all angles and cunning. He looked from the gun to Laney to the street beyond the loading dock, then took a half step back.
“Don’t move, fucker.” Daniel raised the gun. It felt so right in his hand. No, wrong, it feels wrong, not right, you don’t want to, not ag— He blinked, tried to steady his hand. At this range, there was no way he could miss. All he had to do was pull the trigger. Swivel his aim a couple of degrees, at Laney, and pull it again. Then, finally, put the barrel in his mouth and finish what he’d started in Maine.
Laney’s eyes were pools of wide panic. She stepped toward him.
“Stay there.”
“No.” She stared at him, the woman who’d been lying to him— the woman you love—her face beautiful—terrible—a monster— your life—“You’re not going to do this, Daniel.”
“I have to.”
“No, you don’t. Don’t you remember?” She spoke softly. “I know you do. That’s why you couldn’t shoot him at Sophie’s house, and why you keep having that dream—”
“What are you—”
“—about the concrete canyon.” She took another step. “Only it’s not a canyon, Daniel.” Her eyes hypnotizing him. “It’s the river basin.” He felt dizzy, almost as if he were—
“Where you killed Bennett last time.”
—falling.
5
EXT. L.A. RIVER BASIN—EARLY EVENING
The sky is crimson and gold above a concrete canyon with a narrow trickle of water down the center. The skyline looms.
A silver BMW splashes through a puddle.
INT. BMW—CONTINUOUS
DANIEL HAYES pulls to a stop near an overpass. He clenches and unclenches his hands.
He peers out the windshield. Beneath the bridge, headlights blink on and off once.
On the seat beside him, his cell phone vibrates. The display has a picture of LANEY THAYER.
He looks at the phone, but does not pick it up. DANIEL
No, baby.
He opens the glove box, takes out a paper bag. DANIEL (CONT.) Not after what he did to you.
EXT. L.A. RIVER BASIN—CONTINUOUS
Daniel walks toward the overpass. He holds the bag in his left hand.
After a dozen steps, he stops at the edge of the shadow.
Footsteps ring on concrete.
A STRANGER’s silhouette appears. His features resolve as he comes closer. A stocky man of average height, with a shaved head and tattoos down both arms.
STRANGER
You’re late. Where’s your wife?
DANIEL
It’s just me.
The stranger digests this, then nods at the bag, holds out his hand.
STRANGER
Give it here.
DANIEL
I know about you. You’re a cockroach. STRANGER
Wow. Tough guy.
The man’s smile is bar fights and prison time. DANIEL
We’re not afraid of you. I’m giving you one chance, one, to leave us alone. STRANGER