eight-inch Henckels slid easily into my grip. I raised it over my head and ran back into the living room.
Peter, standing by the bedroom doorway, now had the gun trained at my face. He actually laughed as he watched me coming.
Still chuckling, he tried to pull the trigger.
Nothing happened. Instead of disengaging the safety, I must have put it on!
I kept coming and swinging as I dove forward. The barrel of the gun hit me in my mouth, knocking two of my teeth loose. I still kept coming.
My knuckles brushed the smooth underside of Peter’s freshly shaven chin as I came down with all my might.
I opened his throat and buried the knife to the hilt in his collarbone.
He fell back into my bedroom, making a wet, gagging sound. I remember warm blood in my eyes and on my cheeks as I turned and ran for Emma. Kicking books away, I found Emma’s hand and dragged her to the door before she groggily got to her feet. We hobbled out of the apartment and down the stairwell, clutching each other.
A woman with a bad face-lift, walking her Labradoodle, screamed and took off sprinting when she saw me come out of the building’s service entrance onto the sidewalk in my bloody bathrobe. When we got to the Korean grocery store on the corner of Third Avenue, I stopped by the florist sink beside the racks of cheap roses. I was still hosing the glass out of Emma’s eyes when the first cop car jumped the curb.
Epilogue. ONE YEAR LATER
Chapter 117
“JEANINA! Get in here!” Charlie screamed from the office at ten to seven on Saturday morning.
I lifted my head off the pillow and sighed at the pet name Charlie had invented on the way back from our honeymoon the month before.
Charlie’s was the first face I saw when I woke up in the hospital a day after Peter’s attack and the last one I’d seen every night since. Not only had he forgiven me, but he’d done the impossible: helped me to forgive myself.
I’d also underestimated the response from my boss and firm. Tom couldn’t have been more supportive or understanding once everything came out. I even got a postcard from Justin Harris. It was from Antigua, where he’d relocated after he was finally cleared. He’d given me a standing offer to visit anytime.
He was going to be waiting awhile. I didn’t think I’d be heading back down to the Caribbean any time soon.
“Jeanina!” Charlie called again.
I crawled out of bed and stepped into the hall.
“What’s he hollering about?” Emma said with a groggy smile as she poked her head out of our new Upper West Side apartment’s second bedroom.
“No idea,” I said, happily noting the lack of bags under Emma’s eyes. She’d been having fewer and fewer nightmares. She was definitely moving on and so was I. We’d just about wiped the last of Peter off our shoes.
“Jeanina!” Charlie screamed again as I walked into his office. “Oh, there you are.”
“What is it?” I said.
“We need to celebrate,” Charlie said, springing up from his office chair.
He clicked a button on his laptop. The printer turned on with a long beep before pages start spitting out.
“I’m done!” he said triumphantly. “My book is finally done.”
“You’re done? Congratulations! Oh, Papa Charlie,” I said, giving him a kiss. “But wait a second. What’s your story about, anyway?” I said coyly, as if I hadn’t been editing the damn thing for the last year.
It was actually a really good lyrical detective story set in Dallas, where Charlie had grown up. Charlie had talent. Tons of it, in fact. Grisham had to watch his back.
“OK, here’s the pitch for Spielberg,” he said, his bathrobe billowing as he raised his hands. “It starts out with this young, very attractive girl on spring break in South Florida.”
He was joking, of course. I decided to go along. I’d go along with Charlie anywhere from here on out.
“A young Gisele Bundchen type?” I said, leaning in and kissing him.
“Exactly,” Charlie said with an intense nod. “She falls in love with this unbelievably handsome, muscular lawyer.”
I grabbed his biceps. “So it’s a romance with a sexy lawyer? I’m liking this already. Is there a trial?”
“Better,” Charlie said. “They get a guy off death row.”
I smiled at him, started laughing. “Does everyone live happily ever after?”
Charlie stopped. He grabbed his stubbled chin, thinking it over, as he looked up at the ceiling.
“You’ll just have to wait for the sequel,” he finally said with a grin.
AN INNOCENT ART STUDENT FINDS $13 MILLION IN DIAMONDS. LET THE MANHUNT BEGIN.
FOR AN EXCERPT, TURN THE PAGE.
One
It was almost eleven p.m. The evening rush was long over and the crush of commuters was now only a thin stream of weary travelers.
The Ghost was wearing an efficient killing disguise. His face was lost under a tangle of matted silver and white hair and a shaggy beard, and his arsenal was hidden under a wine-stained gray poncho. To anyone who even bothered to take notice, he was just another heap of homeless humanity seeking refuge on a quiet bench near Track 109.
He eyed his target. Walter Zelvas. A great hulk of a man with the nerves and reflexes of a snake and a soul to match. Zelvas was a contract killer himself, but unlike the Ghost, Zelvas took pleasure in watching his victims suffer before they died. For years the ruthless Russian had been an enforcer for the diamond syndicate, but apparently he had outlived his usefulness to his employer, and the Ghost had been hired to terminate him.
So the Ghost watched his opponent closely. The screen on the Departures monitor refreshed, and Zelvas cursed under his breath. His train was delayed another thirty minutes.
He drained his second cup of Starbucks cappuccino, stood up, crumpled his empty cup, and deposited it in the trash.
That’s why he was leaving town by train. Train stations aren’t like airports. There’s no baggage check, no
