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at the curtains, desperate for the door handle. Her mind reeled.
    He’s shooting! He’s got a silencer!
    She yanked open the slider and lurched onto the balcony as the bedroom door burst open.
    She screamed—a shrill, piercing sound. She was on a second-story balcony overlooking a tile patio. She glanced at the neighboring balcony and then the tile patio below. The curtains moved behind her. She heard cursing. She scrambled onto the adobe wall and leaped onto the neighbor’s balcony, where she landed hard and crumpled to her knees.
    Omigod omigod omigod. He has a gun!
    She cowered beside a propane grill and found herself face-to-face with a plastic garden gnome.
    Noise on the other side. Voices. She crawled to the sliding door and pulled on the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. The room was dark, silent. The neighbors weren’t home. Kelsey’s heart slammed against her rib cage. Her body quivered. She felt paralyzed with terror, but she couldn’t stay here. She had to move.
    A noise from within the apartment. She peered through the glass. A light went on in the hallway and a silhouette appeared.
    Him!
    Kelsey jumped to her feet. Blake’s balcony was empty now. She hitched herself over the wall and looked down at the ground-level patio. More tile. A garden hose. A tricycle. The door behind her slid open and she leaped to the ground. Pain zinged up her legs, but she managed to roll sideways and under the overhang.
    Noise at the side of the building. Trent? God, what was happening ?
    She scrambled to her feet and raced to a wrought iron gate. Terror shot through her as it squeaked open, giving away her location. She raced down the side yard between the condos. Carport. Empty. No one home, no one to help her. She spotted the main entrance to the shared courtyard and forced herself to think. She remembered a gate that led to the trash cans. But she’d have to double back.
    Shouts behind her. Kelsey’s pulse jumped. Instead of going back, she bolted for a concrete wall, about six feet high. She climbed it, ignoring the pain in her ankles as she scraped for a foothold. She pulled herself over and landed on her back on the asphalt. For a long moment, breathless shock. Then she rolled to her feet, sucking in air.
    Voices nearby. Trent’s voice.
    She glanced around. She was in an alley behind a row of buildings. On one end, a brick wall. On the other end, traffic. She scooped her purse off the pavement and sprinted for the cars, keeping close to the concrete wall she’d just scaled, hoping the shadows might conceal her. Blake is dead. Blake is dead. Blake is dead. The words pounded through her brain, keeping time with her galloping heart. Her breath came in gasps. Her thighs burned. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her toward the noise and safety of the crowd.
    A man stepped into view. The short one. Kelsey stumbled to a halt and glanced back over her shoulder.
    Several buildings down, a door was propped open by a milk crate. She ducked low as she darted across thealley, praying he wouldn’t shoot. She squeezed through the door and found herself in a dim lobby that smelled like ammonia. Hysteria bubbled up as she glanced around. Marble tile. Vintage staircase. There was an information board on the wall displaying the names of businesses. From upstairs came the high-pitched whine of a vacuum. A janitor. But she didn’t want to risk getting trapped up there. She raced through the lobby and tried the front door. Open.
    Kelsey rushed into the muggy night air and glanced up and down the street. A few parked cars. Some panhandlers on the corner near the River Walk. She hurried for the people as thoughts tumbled through her head.
    They killed Blake. They’re after me. What is happening?
    She ran down a few stairs toward the noise. She stopped, chest heaving, and looked around. Mariachi music filled the air, along with the smell of fresh tortilla chips. She saw neon signs, riverboats, umbrella tables filled with people