LANEY
Anything?
DANIEL
Nope.
He straightens, looks around, obviously frustrated.
LANEY Maybe it’s not—
DANIEL It has to be.
LANEY Why?
DANIEL
Just keep looking.
They continue searching.
Laney straightens, rubs her back. They look at each other. She shakes her head.
They exit.
INT. DANIEL’S OFFICE—CONTINUOUS
The camera angle is high and wide. The couple walk into the room and resume the search. Daniel ransacks his desk, tossing the contents on the floor. A rain of paper and pens and junk. LANEY
It’s not going to just be laying in a drawer.
DANIEL Why not?
LANEY
Because Bennett would have already found it.
Daniel yanks a drawer out, turns it upside down. Everything falls to the floor. He squats to sort through it.
LANEY (CONT.)
If it’s here, it’ll be hidden.
DANIEL
Do we have a safe?
Laney shakes her head. Then a thought strikes her. She stands.
LANEY
Wait a second.
She walks to the bookcase, reaches for something near the camera. Steps back, smiling. She’s holding a thick book, which she passes to Daniel.
DANIEL
Studies in Contract Law, Volume 2?
LANEY
Open it.
He does.
The book is hollow, a hiding place for small valuables.
LANEY (CONT.)
You and your toys. You always wanted a reason for that thing.
He dips his hand inside, comes out with a breathtaking DIAMOND NECKLACE. It glitters like it’s lit from within.
DANIEL
So that’s what half a million dollars looks like.
(shakes his head)
This is Sophie’s life. A string of sparkly stones.
LANEY
I’ve been thinking. I want to pay him.
DANIEL
No.
LANEY
He’ll go away if we do.
DANIEL
I don’t want him gone away. I want him dead.
LANEY
You’re not a killer.
Daniel tucks the necklace into his pants pocket. He closes the book, tosses it on the desk. DANIEL
We just have to focus. Get through tonight.
LANEY
So you can pretend you’re Charles Bronson?
DANIEL
What do you want, Laney? He almost killed you and he cost me my memory and he murdered my friend.
LANEY
So you’re going to commit suicide? Daniel shakes his head. He turns to face her. DANIEL
This will work.
LANEY
What if it doesn’t?
Daniel strides to the door. Laney hesitates a moment, bites her lip, then follows.
LANEY (CONT.)
I’m sorry, but I love you, and I don’t want to see you hurt. And Bennett is a killer. They leave the room.
DANIEL (O.S.)
Not tonight.
INT. DANIEL & LANEY’S FOYER—CONTINUOUS
The two of them hurry down the stairs, Daniel in the lead.
LANEY
Listen—
Da niel whirls to face the ca mera. He raises his arms in a what-do-you-want-from-me? gesture. The movement tightens his black T-shirt, revealing a SIG SAUER tucked into his belt.
DANIEL
I don’t know what to tell you, Laney. I don’t have any choice.
LANEY
(softly)
I’m scared. If anything happens to you . . .
DANIEL
Look. At the end of the night, I’m going to be holding a loaded gun. And he’s not.
5
Bennett hit pause and leaned back in D’Agostino’s ergonomically correct chair. On the laptop, Daniel Hayes was frozen. The pistol butt protruded from his belt. Bennett clicked his tongue against his lip, looked out the window, where the Valley spilled out in all its earth-tone glory. It looked better at night.
He could send someone else. Little Suzie hadn’t worked off her debt just by making a run out to the pier. And no way, no way would she try ripping him off.
On the other hand, Daniel and Laney probably wouldn’t give her the necklace. If they wanted to take their turn trying to kill him, they wouldn’t give up the only thing that would bring him there.
He could make an end run on the whole thing. Maybe snatch Laney’s actor friend. Call them at the last minute, make the guy whimper into the phone, give them a new venue. But it would mean yet another body, and more police attention. Besides, why bother? He knew what they were up to. A secret plan wasn’t much good once the secret was out.
They had the necklace. They were willing to meet.
So meet. But do it your way.
5
Daniel hadn’t slept much.
When was the last time you did, amigo? He rubbed at his eyes, yawned deeply. Lifting his shirt, he pulled out the Sig Sauer, opened the glove box, stowed it inside. Then he put the Smith and Wesson snub-nose he’d taken from his desk drawer beside it. The two guns looked ominous in the dim light.
Hope we don’t get pulled over.
He must have snatched a few hours of sleep toward dawn, because he’d dreamed again. The concrete canyon, the darkness, the guilty terror. And a new dream too, Sophie screaming, but when she opened her mouth, the sound that came out was the roar of jet engines. He’d come to propped in the desk chair, his feet on the windowsill. Stiff and sore and too tired to move, he’d just sat there, let himself drift.
For some reason, he’d been thinking of last Christmas. Some years they flew to Chicago to see her family, but the visits were always glum and awkward times. His father-in-law was a mechanic, a man who fixed broken things. He didn’t know what to make of a life spent creating something so ephemeral as entertainment. And her brother had the conversational skill of a watermelon.
So last year they’d decided to stay home. They’d slept late, lounged over coffee and scripts. Her first Christmas gift for him, she’d looked up from the other end of the couch, said, “Want me to be Emily for you, baby?” They’d piled into the bedroom laughing, and she’d stayed in character, made love to him like Emily Sweet, her moves and mannerisms and moans all her but just a little different, and it had been so hot they’d both finished fast and coated in sweat. They spent the afternoon watching movies and reading and cooking an elaborate supper. She was a mostly-vegetarian, but had always wanted to roast a chicken, and it had turned out weirdly picture-perfect, crispy and golden brown. They’d eaten with their hands, fingers shining with grease, pairing it with store-bought eggnog spiked with rum, a combination that had flattened them both, left them food-stoned but warm and happy. Around nine they’d shared a joint in the backyard, sitting beneath the avocado tree he’d strung Christmas lights in, staring up at what stars they could see and holding hands.