The noise startled her, but she didn’t back away. She kept looking out the window, as if searching for whatever it was that had sent that lone leaf streaking toward her with so much force. She saw nothing, but in her heart she knew that she was mistaken. Something was definitely out there. She just couldn’t see it. Or maybe it was Esteban who couldn’t see it.

Stop using his eyes!

The door swung open. A burst of cold air hit her like an Arctic front. Goose bumps covered her arms and legs. Her silk nightgown shifted in the breeze, rising to midthigh. She somehow knew that she was colder than ever before in her life, though she didn’t really feel it. She didn’t feel anything. A numbness had washed over her, and though her mind told her to run, her feet wouldn’t move. It was suddenly impossible to gauge the passage of time, but in no more than a few moments was she strangely at ease with the silhouette in the doorway.

“Daddy?”

“Hi, sweetheart.”

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s Tuesday.”

“So?”

“Is Jack here?”

“He’s sleeping.”

“Wake him.”

“For what?”

“It’s our night to play poker.”

“Jack can’t play cards with you tonight.”

“We play every Tuesday.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy. Jack can’t play with you anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re dead.”

With a shrill scream she sat bolt upright in bed. Confused and frightened, she was shivering uncontrollably. A hand caressed her cheek, and she screamed again.

“It’s okay,” said Jack. He moved closer and tried putting his arms around her.

She pushed him away. “No!”

“It’s okay, it’s me.”

Her heart was pounding, and she was barely able to catch her breath. A lone tear ran down her face. She wiped it away with the back of her hand. It felt as cold as ice water.

“Take a deep breath,” said Jack. “Slowly, in and out.”

She inhaled, then exhaled, repeating the exercise several times. In a minute or so, the panic subsided and her breathing became less erratic. Jack’s touch felt soothing now, and she nestled into his embrace.

He sat up beside her and wrapped his arms around her. “Was it that dream again?”

She nodded.

“The one about your father?”

“Yes.”

She was staring into the darkness, not even aware that Jack was gently brushing her hair out of her face. “He’s been gone so long. Why am I having these dreams now?”

“Don’t let it scare you. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“I know.”

She laid her head against his shoulder. Jack surely meant well, but he couldn’t possibly understand what truly frightened her. She’d never told him the most disturbing part. What good was there in knowing that her father was coming back-for him?

“It’s okay,” said Jack. “Try to get some sleep.”

She met his kiss and then let him go, stroking his forehead as he drifted off to sleep. He was breathing audibly in the darkness, but she still felt utterly alone. She lay with eyes wide open, listening.

She heard that sound again outside her bedroom window, the familiar scuffle of boots cutting through a carpet of dead leaves. Cindy didn’t dare close her eyes, didn’t even flirt with the idea of sliding back to that place where she’d found the cursed gift of sight. She brought the blanket all the way up to her chin and clutched it for warmth, praying that this time there’d be no knocking at the back door.

In time the noise faded, as if someone were drifting away.

•

Jack Swyteck was in Courtroom 9 of the Miami-Dade courthouse, having a ball. With a decade of experience in criminal courts, both as a prosecutor and a criminal defense lawyer, he didn’t take many civil cases. But this one was different. It was a slam-bang winner, the judge had been spitting venom at opposing counsel the entire trial, and Jack’s client was an old flame who’d once ripped his heart right out of his chest and stomped that sucker flat.

Well, two out of three ain’t bad.

“All rise!”

The lunch break was over, and the lawyers and litigants rose as Judge Antonio Garcia approached the bench. The judge glanced their way, as if he couldn’t help gathering an eyeful of Jack’s client. No surprise there. Jessie Merrill wasn’t stunningly beautiful, but she was damn close. She carried herself with a confidence that bespoke intelligence, tempered by intermittent moments of apparent vulnerability that made her simply irresistible to the knuckle-dragging, testosterone-toting half of the population. Judge Garcia was as susceptible as the next guy. Beneath that flowing black robe was, after all, a mere mortal-a man. That aside, Jessie truly was a victim in this case, and it was impossible not to feel sorry for her.

“Good afternoon,” said the judge.

“Good afternoon,” the lawyers replied, though the judge’s nose was buried in paperwork. Rather than immediately call in the jury, it was Judge Garcia’s custom to mount the bench and then take a few minutes to read his mail or finish the crossword puzzle-his way of announcing to all who entered his courtroom that he alone had that rare and special power to silence attorneys and make them sit and wait. Judicial power plays of all sorts seemed to be on the rise in Miami courtrooms, ever since hometown hero Marilyn Milian gave up her day job to star on The People’s Court. Not every south Florida judge wanted to trace her steps to television stardom, but at least one wannabe in criminal court could no longer mete out sentences to convicted murderers without adding, “You are the weakest link, good-bye.”

Jack glanced to his left and noticed his client’s hand shaking. It stopped the moment she’d caught him looking. Typical Jessie, never wanting anyone to know she was nervous.

“We’re almost home,” Jack whispered.

She gave him a tight smile.

Before this case, it had been a good six years since Jack had seen her. Five months after dumping him, Jessie had called for lunch with the hope of giving it another try. By then Jack was well on his way toward falling hopelessly in love with Cindy Paige, now Mrs. Jack Swyteck, something he never called her unless he wanted to be introduced at their next cocktail party as Mr. Cindy Paige. Cindy was more beautiful today than she was then, and Jack had to admit the same was true of Jessie. That, of course, was no reason to take her case. But he decided it wasn’t a reason to turn it down, either. This had nothing to do with the fact that her long, auburn hair had once splayed across both their pillows. She’d come to him as an old friend in a genuine crisis. Even six months later, her words still echoed in the back of his mind.

•

“The doctor told me I have two years to live. Three, tops.”

Jack’s mouth fell open, but words came slowly. “Damn, Jessie. I’m so sorry.”

She seemed on the verge of tears. He scrambled to find her a tissue. She dug one of her own from her purse. “It’s so hard for me to talk about this.”

“I understand.”

“I was so damn unprepared for that kind of news.”

“Who wouldn’t be?”

“I take care of myself. I always have.”

“It shows.” It wasn’t intended as a come-on, just a statement of fact that underscored what a waste this was.

“My first thought was, you’re crazy, doc. This can’t be.”

“Of course.”

“I mean, I’ve never faced anything that I couldn’t beat. Then suddenly I’m in the office of some doctor who’s basically telling me, that’s it, game over. No one bothered to tell me the game had even started.”

He could hear the anger in her voice. “I’d be mad, too.”

“I was furious. And scared. Especially when he told me what I had.”

Jack didn’t ask. He figured she’d tell him if she wanted him to know.