Luke grumbled. “All right. We’ll have another go at the old guy, but the lady…what’re you gonna do about her?”

“Don’t know yet. We can’t do her unless we can get to her. I’ll think of somethin’. But it’ll have to wait till the lights is done. I ain’t lettin’ nothin’ get between me and the lights.”

“Awright. But what do we do till the lights come? We goin’ panhandlin’ as usual?”

“Not durin’ the lights. We’ll just hang out. Besides, we don’t need to go beggin’ cause we’ll be gettin’ a hunk of cash from those dredgin’ guys when they finish at noon.”

“What if they try to stiff us?”

“They won’t. They ain’t gettin’ out of the lagoon less’n they pay up.”

But Semelee didn’t want to think about dredgin’ or money or nothin’ cept the lights. Anticipation thrummed through her like she was a plucked guitar string. The lights’d start tonight and run for three days. But this year would be like no other. This time they wouldn’t be underwater, which meant they’d be bigger and brighter and better than ever before.

Starting tonight, everything in her life would change. She sensed it, she knew it.

3

Tom had been watching the Weather Channel’s reports on Hurricane Elvis. It continued to move south off Florida’s west coast; although its winds had increased to 90 miles an hour, it was still a Category I. And no threat to Florida at this point.

He was just finishing his cup of coffee when Jack came through the door, dripping with sweat.

“I was wondering where you were.” He’d been a little anxious after awakening to finding the house empty and Jack’s car still parked outside. Obviously he’d been out jogging. “I don’t suppose you’d care for a cup of hot coffee right now.”

“After my shower I’d love one. Never turn down coffee.”

As Jack ducked into the bathroom, Tom rinsed out the French press and began to make another serving. He noticed his hand shaking a little as he spooned the ground coffee. He touched the fresh bandage on his head. The stitches were still a little tender under there. He’d been shocked at the sight of his bruised, black-eyed face in the mirror this morning. He felt so good he’d almost forgotten about the accident.

Now he couldn’t get it out of his head. Someone wanted him dead. Why?

Last week his life had been safe and sane, prosaic, maybe even a little dull. Now…

What was happening? He didn’t live the sort of life where he got on people’s wrong side. Was it a mistake? Had he been mistaken for somebody else? Who on earth would want to kill him?

He pondered those imponderables until Jack returned, in fresh shorts and T-shirt, his wet hair combed straight back.