Meg didn’t think before she shot her husband. She didn’t think afterwards either. Or in the split second it took her to pull the trigger, for that matter.

She watched the television screen in the bedroom for almost thirty seconds. Then she went to the hall closet upstairs, stepped on two shoe boxes, reached up to the shelf, and pulled down the pistol she had bought ten years ago when James Murray was stalking her. She didn’t know the year or the make, but that didn’t really matter when you were going to shoot someone. All that mattered was that it was loaded and the safety was off.

She went out the kitchen door and headed up the walk to the library. Ben was probably in his study writing a screenplay or having phone sex with his secretary.

She stepped into the library and stopped to listen. She didn’t hear any groans coming from the door at the other side of the room, so she figured he was writing. She walked across the room and opened the door. He swiveled his chair around to face her, smiled, and she shot him between the eyes. No thinking necessary.