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wake.
    Christina and Jason Cardiff rarely spoke, even when they passed each other in the hall, from that point on.
    These thoughts were with Christina on the first night of her widowhood as she fell into a troubled sleep on the living-room couch inside her house on an isolated stretch of East Hampton beach.
     
    She woke up sometime later to discover she was not alone.

CHAPTER 5
    S omething was wrong.
    Christina sensed it even before she opened her eyes.
    Someone was there with her in the dark.
    Close. Too close. Invading her personal space.
    Looming above her. Blocking any chance of escape.
    Shifting from sleep mode to full-scale panic, Christina’s first instinct was to scream. But the sound withered in her lungs.
    The intruder’s hand clamped down hard on her mouth.
    A strangling sound gurgled up from her throat.
    Christina was alone with him, and no one to help.
    She was awake enough now to remember she was in her living room, dark as a tomb under a moonless sky. She had left the back door open. She remembered the photographer at the end of the drive.
    In the space of the seconds that passed while she recalled these facts, he lowered himself on top of her.
    Tyler had already lost one parent. He couldn’t afford to lose another.
    Christina fought back, scrabbling with her fingernails until they caught the soft flesh of his face and neck.
    He grunted with pain, and Christina seized the moment to raise her knees and curl into a protective ball.
    It was no use.
    He brushed her legs aside with little effort.
    Leaving her open, vulnerable to attack.
    “Christina! It’s me. Stop it! Goddamn it, Christina!”
    She knew that voice, knew that familiar scent of Old Spice and cigarettes.
    The hands pinning her down in the darkness were not there to hurt her.
    “Dan, oh my God, Dan.” She went limp with relief.
    Daniel Cunningham released his grip and rocked back onto the cushion next to her. “Jesus,” he breathed, rubbing a hand across his face. He pulled it away and tested it with his tongue.
    She was close enough to see him scowl in the dark.
    “I’m bleeding.”
    Christina was too busy trying to figure out if she was having a heart attack to speak, so she reached to pat his shoulder with a hand that shook.
    He shrugged her off, half-raising an arm. His hands were balled into fists.
    “I’m sorry.” She drew her hand away, pushing up to a sitting position. Every muscle in her body twitched. “You scared me.”
    He whipped his head around so fast she cringed. “ I scared you? ” He shook his head slowly from side to side, scowling at the tips of his fingers, which, she supposed, were wet with his blood.
    Dan had a temper. He had lost his contracting business because of it. He hadn’t told her that in so many words, but Christina remembered the story now. Itwas why he freelanced now, painting and plastering for other contractors around the East End during the summer months. He had told her he spent winters in West Palm.
    She forced herself to reach out and pat his leg. “You scared me,” she said again, keeping her tone soothing and low. Not whiny. Dan hated that. “And this day…oh, my God, Dan. I’m glad you’re here.”
    His shoulders unhunched as he considered this, and she felt her own adrenaline begin to drain off.
    Dan leaned against the back of the couch, angling his body so it faced her.
    Christina allowed herself to relax now that the crisis had passed.
    “The back door was open. I let myself in.” He shrugged.
    Christina nodded.
    “There was a guy out there in front,” he said by way of explanation.
    “I know.”
    “Some prick with a camera. I didn’t want to make things worse for you, so I parked a couple houses down. A friend of mine did a job there last week. They’re gone for the summer. I left my car in their driveway and took the cut-through to the beach.”
    Officially, there was no public access to the ocean in this neighborhood. Unofficially, there was a path behind the movie