Which is absolutely ludicrous, so I must either be dead or getting damn close…

He knew he couldn't get his hands on the money, even if something happened to me. He knew from day one that my inheritance was untouchable. So why did he do this?

It made no sense to Joey Perrone. Nothing did.

Not Chaz; not the lazy, sweet-smelling, rough-skinned shark; not the seagulls piping excitedly overhead-can't a person even die in peace?

Not the low chug-a-chug of an outboard engine, growing louder; not the slappety-slap of the waves against… what, the hull of a boat? Don't believe your ears, Joey told herself. What would a boat be doing all the way out here?

Didn't make sense. Neither did the faraway voice calling to her, a man's voice urging her to hang on, honey, just hang on for another minute.

Then the same voice saying it's okay, I've got you now, so let go, come on, let it go!

Something lifted her as if she were as light and free as a bubble. Glassy droplets streamed down her bare legs as she rose from the water, her toes brushing the foamy tips of the waves.

Then came a huddled warmth, the smell of dry linen and a sleep nearly as deep as death.

Three

"Don't move," the man said.

"Where am I?"

"Safe. Try to lie still."

"What about the shark? Did I get bit?"

"What shark?"

"The one I was hanging on to when you found me."

The man laughed softly. "That was a bale of grass."

"Don't tell me," Joey said.

"Sixty pounds of Jamaica's finest."

"Terrific." In her delirium she had mistaken the burlap wrapping for shark hide. "Where am I?" she asked again. "I can't see a damn thing. What's wrong with my eyes?"

"They're swollen shut."

"From the salt? Please tell me that's all-"