The connection between body and mind strained. He felt like a marionette with half the strings cut, a jerky, drunken thing. Was he going mad, really mad? Had all of this been some crazy dream? How could she possibly . . .

He blinked, swallowed, made his lips move. “You? But. You’re—”

“Dead. I know. I’m so, so sorry, Daniel.” Emily Sweet’s voice, the one he’d followed home from the edge of death. And then Laney threw herself at him, her arms ringing his sides and squeezing, her body fitting tight, the smell of her, that old familiar smell of home.

His wife was alive. Alive, and in his arms.

The wife whose loss had driven him to suicide. The woman he had fallen back in love with only to realize she was gone. Somehow she had crawled out of the underworld to stand in his arms.

A choking sound wrenched from his chest, and he pulled her tighter. She responded, crying and laughing against him, her skin warm, and the charge running through his body was like a swim in ancient waters, like finishing a screenplay, like over-proof bourbon and an expensive cigar, like making love for the first time. He could flex his arms and knock down the world.

“I thought you were. My god, how— Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry.” Her words tumbling against his chest. “I wanted to find you, but you were gone, and I couldn’t go to the police, he had to think I was dead, it was the only way.”

“The only way to— What do you mean?”

“We have to go.” Laney pushed back from him, glanced down the hall. “Bennett’s here.”

“What’s a Bennett?” His fingers tasted the softness of her arms.

She cocked her head, said, “Huh?”

“I don’t know what—”

“Bennett, Bennett, the guy who.” She stopped. “Are you okay?”

“Well . . .”

Someone laughed out in the common area, and the echo of the sound made her jump. “Later. Let’s go. You have to trust me.” Laney’s eyes entreated. “Can you trust me?”

Nothing made sense. His wife back from the dead. Scared. Someone named Bennett was here. That must be the killer. The one he had been trying to trap. Only it had been Laney. And she wasn’t dead, so there wasn’t a killer. But then, someone had come after Sophie. And Laney was saying— He blinked, said, “Of course.”

“Hurry.” She grabbed his hand, their fingers lacing with easy habit; he could remember the way they slid together, but there was no time to savor it as she tugged him down the hall. The fluorescent lights a blur, his heart singing. They rounded the corner, stepped back into the market proper.

And directly in front of a man with a gun.

“Hello, kids,” the man said. “Miss me?”

Laney’s fingers tightened on his, hard enough that he could feel the fear humming in her skin.

“You look good for a dead woman, sister. You made a hell of a cleaning lady too.” The guy seemed relaxed, like he was chancing on old friends. His black shirt and pressed slacks, his neat hair and bland expression juxtaposed against the pistol to create a shattering dissonance. What had Sophie said? He was so calm. Smiling, always smiling. I think he could have done anything to me, and then gone on about his day. Not felt a thing about it.

“Bennett?” Daniel asked, knowing the answer.

“The one and only.” The man had his back to the patio area, gun held low and out of sight, and none of the hundreds of people behind him seemed to have a clue what he was doing. “Let me guess, I look different than you expected. Taller, and with a bigger cock.” He smiled, turned back to Laney. “Speaking of my cock, it’s nice to see you again, sister.”

“I’ll scream,” Laney said.

Bennett shrugged. “Go for it.”

She opened her mouth, hesitated.

“Thought not. You scream, maybe the man who comes to rescue you is a cop. And you don’t want to be talking to any police, do you?”

Daniel turned from one to the other. He felt like he was lagging behind the conversation. By the time he’d processed one set of words, the next had come and gone. It had to be a blackmail thing, he’d put that much together, but the way this guy was goading Laney, it seemed like he knew her personally. And what was she doing? Why not scream? “Why don’t we want to be talking to the police?”

Bennett laughed. “I love it. Why do you think, Dan?”

“I have no idea.”

“Sure you do—”

“No, I fucking don’t. But if you don’t stop pointing a gun at my wife, I’m going to . . .”

“What? You’re going to what? Kill me?”

“Stop it,” Laney said. “You can’t shoot us. If you do, you don’t get the necklace.”

“I don’t have to shoot both of you, sweetheart. For your next role, how about life as a widow?” The pistol swung half a degree to center on Daniel’s chest.

She stiffened. “No.”

Daniel wanted to act, to do something, but he didn’t know what. It had felt right to threaten Bennett, but jumping him would be suicide. The man may have been all smiles and ease, but the pistol was steady, and his finger was inside the trigger guard.

“I want what I’m owed, sister. Then we can all get on with our lives. I promise.”

“I remember what your word is worth.”

“Oh, snap,” Bennett said. “Ouch. I’m cut to the quick.” His smile could have curdled milk. “Let’s go. Back down the hallway.”

“I don’t think so.” Laney’s right hand blurred to her shirt and came out with a gun of her own.

What the fuck?

Bennett snickered. “You can’t shoot me, Laney. Any more than you could go to the police.”

“I’m not going to shoot you,” she said. “I’m going to put you in the spotlight.” Then his wife pointed the pistol skyward and pulled the trigger three times fast.

The crack of gunfire was unbelievably loud, setting his ears ringing. For a moment, nothing happened, just silence and the slipping smile on Bennett’s face.

Then the screaming began. Chaos hit as if God had flipped a switch, everyone lunging into motion at the same time. People threw themselves to their feet, upended tables, sent chairs clattering. Everyone went in different directions, tangling with one another as they searched for an exit or looked for the source of the gunfire. Dropped glasses shattered on the concrete, and somewhere someone shrieked, a high-pitched sound like steel on his teeth.