Cab charged toward the vine-covered walls surrounding Diane’s house. The mop heads of the palm trees shot spikes through the air, forcing him to duck. The bay seemed to be coming for them, like an entire ocean slouching down the street. He reached the iron gates of the estate, which swung wildly, bouncing open and then snapping shut like the jaws of a giant turtle. He and Lala waited. When the wind split the gates apart, Cab grabbed Lala’s hand and dragged her through the gap just before the heavy wing reversed course and took aim at them with the speed of a train.

They bolted up the cobblestoned driveway, but someone was in their path, blocking their way. A man waited for them on his knees. His arms drooped at his side, and when the man’s fist emerged from the water, it held a gun. He didn’t point it at them. Instead, the man’s torso swayed, and the gun fell from his hand. His whole body sank sideways, and he went limp.

Cab and Lala ran forward. It was Garth.

The masseur’s tanned face looked pale for the first time in his life, and watery blood pulsed from a scorched bullet hole near his shoulder. His brow and bulbous nose were contorted in pain, but he relaxed when he saw Cab.

‘I chased him back here,’ Garth mumbled. ‘Bastard killed the guard. He got me, but I think I got him, too.’

‘I’ll stay with you,’ Lala said.

‘Forget me. He’s heading inside.’

‘Just one?’ Cab asked.

‘Just one guy. One guy with a big gun. Déjà vu, huh?’

*

The storm raged. The house shook.

Tarla and Diane sat on opposite sides of the sofa on the north wall. Caprice stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out at the garden. ‘You’d think the eye of the storm would be coming across soon,’ she said.

Tarla hoped that was true. They needed a break where the wind died and the rain stopped. Chayla seemed to become more violent as the hours passed. They felt as if they were in a cage, with zoo animals roaming free just beyond the black glass.

The room smelled of cranberry, like Christmas, an oddly comforting aroma in the hot summer. A fat scented candle burned unevenly on the table near the patio doors, and its liquid pool of wax glistened. A tapered white candle flickered in front of them, casting a shimmery glow on Diane’s face. Otherwise, they were in the dark. With the power off, the air had grown hot and heavy.

‘What’s happening?’ Diane asked. ‘And where’s Garth? How long has he been gone?’

‘Do you want me to go look for him?’ Tarla asked.

Near the doors, Caprice shook her head. ‘I don’t think we should go anywhere alone.’