He stared at it, wondering what he must have been thinking, putting an empty carton back into the fridge. So, he’d drink it black.

It took a long time to realize that the phone was ringing. Even longer to decide whether or not he cared enough to answer it. Whoever was calling was stubborn to the point of insanity. His brain kept count. Twenty-two rings, twenty-three, twenty-four.

Blessed silence. He’d just breathed a sigh of relief and slumped back down again when the fucking thing began to ring again. Jack jerked to his feet with a filthy epithet, and grabbed the thing off the wall. “Yeah! Who the hell is this?”

There was a nervous pause. “Uh, this is Rafael Siebling. Is Vivi there? Because I really need to—”

“No, she’s not here, and she’s not going to be in the future. Delete this number from your phone, and call her fucking cell.”

He slammed the phone down, suppressing a twinge of guilt at having been needlessly rude. The guilt evaporated in an instant when the phone rang again. He snatched it up. “What?” he bellowed.

“I will overlook what an asshole you are because this is so important,” Rafael said, his voice frigid. “I have to talk to Vivi, and I—”

“I told you! She’s moved out! Call her cell!”

“I did, you cretin!” Rafael yelled back. “Her cell’s not working! And I have to get in touch with her, like, now! It’s a matter of life or death!”

Jack finally registered the fear in the man’s voice. Life or death? A chill gripped him. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Well, since you’re so monumentally uninterested in anything having to do with Vivi, I won’t bore you with—”

“Cut the shit.” Jack’s voice slashed across the other man’s nervous bitching. “Just tell me.”

“It’s a creepy coincidence.” The other man’s voice shook. “I went to an opening at Brian Wilder’s gallery last night. The man is evil incarnate, but I thought it would be fun to do a little networking at Wilder’s expense and let that nasty dickhead know that Vivi’s happy and thriving, since he tried so hard to destroy her. But of course he didn’t succeed, because she’s a goddess with more talent in her pinkie than—”

“And the creepy coincidence?” Jack’s guts twisted nastily.

“It’s horrible.” Rafael’s voice rose in pitch. “The prick deserved it, if anyone ever could, but even so, it gives me the shudders that I was actually talking to him just hours before it happened, and he just—”

“What happened to him?” Jack bellowed.

“He…well, his assistant found him this morning. Impaled on the spikes of a big Waylan Winthrop bronze sculpture, like a hot dog on a stick. They say the sculpture was completely drenched with blood. Wilder’s assistant is in the hospital, having a total breakdown.”

Jack’s body was electrified with fear. Thrumming with the excess voltage. “And Vivi won’t answer her cell?”

“I’ve been calling for over an hour. As soon as I found out.”

Jack ran it through his head. “Did you tell Wilder where Viv was?”

“I did mention that I saw her at a concert in Pebble River night before last,” Rafael faltered. “And…but why should that…” His voice choked off for a moment. He gasped. “Oh, my God,” he whispered. “Oh, my sweet God. What the fuck is going on?”

“Are you at home now?” Jack demanded.

“No, actually. I left this morning to meet a friend up in East Hampton. Why?”

“Don’t go home,” Jack said. “Under any circumstances.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Rafael moaned. “What have I done? What in holy hell is she mixed up in?”

“It’s bad,” Jack said. “But it’s not her fault. And you’re mixed up in it, too, so watch yourself. I have to go.”

“But I…but no! Wait! Tell me what this is all—”

“I have to go find Viv. If they knew where she was late last night, they could be here by now. Or they could call someone in the area. Call this number.” He rattled off Duncan’s cell to the other man. “That’s Viv’s future brother-in-law. He knows everything. He’ll tell you what to do. Do not go home. You got that straight?”

“Got it,” Rafael echoed faintly.

“Good.” Jack hung up on him and dialed Vivi’s cell from his landline. The recording told him it was turned off or out of area.

The stench of burning rubber assailed his nose as he sprinted through the room. The coffee had all boiled away, and the heat had melted the rubber ring while he was on the phone.

He flipped off the gas, on the fly, and bolted toward his gun safe.

Vivi locked up her shop and headed toward her van. She’d finished painting the place, finally, and she was a rumpled, snarled, ivory-spattered mess. She caught sight of herself in the mirror as she started up the ignition, and winced. Yikes. Eyes red and puffy, face paper white, mouth blurry-looking. But who cared how she looked?

She pointed the van in the direction of Evergreen Acres. She’d asked around yesterday, and that was the one place she could afford that would accept her dog. It also bordered on a creek and had a little forested area nearby for Edna to run and catch sticks and do her doggie business. The downside was, it was a pathetic dump. It was clear that the creek had overflowed its bounds and flooded the rental units more than once. The number of discolored waterlines and the rotting carpet were her clues. And the overwhelming stench of mold, of course.

The cinder-block cube they’d assigned to her was the last in the row. Tiny and cramped, and it stank of cigarettes, damp, and, faintly, of urine. The ceiling was so splotchy, it looked like it would fall down right on top of her. The curtains were full of cigarette holes.

She pulled into the Acres, parked her van next to her wretched little abode, and stared at it, dispirited. Back to roughing it. Making do.

Well, then. Chin up. Feeling sorry for herself would not help. She’d learned that lesson so many times, in so many ways in her life, it still amazed her when the “poor-little-me’s” took her by storm.

She let Edna out of the van, and they headed down to the creek, so Edna could stretch her legs. After that, she would clean up, change, organize her stuff, and get motivated for some tight-assed, one-dollar-a-day grocery shopping. Not that she had any appetite, but still. Starving herself would not help matters. She had to be a grown-up.

She flung the stick for Edna until her arm felt like it was about to fall off, and decided to stop procrastinating. She walked back to the cabin. Staring at the flimsy door with the knob lock that a credit card could swipe open in one pass. At the single-paned windows with the warped, swollen wood sills that she was not able to wrench closed.

She hadn’t known how safe Jack’s infrared alarm and his tough, stalwart presence at her side had made her feel until now. She’d been so relaxed, soft and open inside, for weeks. Now that it was taken away, she felt like a snail with no shell. With fear her constant backdrop.

She shoved the key into the lock. Edna stopped at the threshhold and shrank back, whining, but Vivi was trying so hard to be tough and grown up, and not cringe at the stinky little room, she didn’t register the dog’s gesture until she’d stepped in, flipped on the light—

And found the two men lurking in the dark on either side of the door. Their pistols pointed straight at her.

Jack drove by the highway interchange for the third time, scoping out the parking lots of the budget hotels clustered there, scanning for her van. Her shop was locked up, at four p.m. Usually, she stayed there working until dark or later.

He could hardly breathe, he was so fucking scared. And furious at himself. So wound up in his self-pitying bullshit, he’d lost sight of the danger. He should have known a guy like Rafael would spew Vivi’s location to the four winds. He should have taken steps, been thinking clearly. About her. Not himself. Dick-brained asshole.

He pointed his truck back up the hill to Pebble River Heights, where the commercial district and Vivi’s shop were located, hoping this was just a paranoid freak-out. But the image of Wilder spitted like a hot dog on a stick jangled his nerves. Could be the fuckhead had other enemies, of course. But an enemy like that was rare and special.