Coughing and gasping, Denise saw a young man try CPR on Paul and then fall back, choking as well. She pressed her fingers to Paul’s throat. Nothing.

Almost a dozen people stood over her, but none of them seemed to be reaching for their cell phones.

“Call a goddamn ambulance,” she got out, pounding on Paul’s chest and trying to blow into his mouth even though she could hardly breathe herself. “Come on, Paul! Don’t do this!”

Through her blurred vision, she saw her cousin’s face turning a darker shade of blue. His mouth was slack, his chest motionless under her hands. But Denise continued to pound on his chest, cupping her hands around his mouth to blow into it without her lips coming into contact with more pepper spray.

She didn’t stop until the paramedics arrived, seemingly an eternity later. When they pulled her off, Paul still wasn’t breathing.

“You’re saying the man just…disappeared?”

The police officer couldn’t quite keep the disbelief out of his tone. Denise fought the urge to slap him. She didn’t know how much more she could take. She’d already had to call her family and tell them this unthinkable news, then grieved with them as they arrived at the hospital, then gave her report to the police. The one they seemed to have such trouble believing.

“As I said, when I looked up, the killer was gone.”

“No one at the bar saw anyone out there, ma’am,” the officer said for the third time.

Denise’s temper snapped. “That’s because they were inside when we were attacked. Look, the guy choked my cousin; doesn’t Paul have bruises around his neck?”

The officer glanced away. “No, ma’am. The medical examiner hasn’t looked at him yet, but the paramedics didn’t see any signs of strangulation. They did say they found evidence of cardiac arrest…”

“He’s only twenty-five years old!” Denise burst, then stopped. Ice slid up her spine. Who has a heart attack at twenty-three? Paul had asked just hours ago, followed up with a statement she’d summarily dismissed. I think I’m being followed, too.