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He looked at the wreck, at the Volkswagen that isted and broken, one headlight shining into the sky like a single unseeing eye The horn was still blaring; he could barely hear it above the shrieking of the wind and the ha of the rain

Then he saw his body, draped over the hood of the car, one arht Even from here he could see the blood that pooled beneath his stark, white profile and dripped down the hood A fine dusting of glass sprinkled across his ripped, bloodied cardigan His eyes were open

People surged across the road, clustered around the remains of the car One of the policemen picked up his limp wrist There’s a pulse

Back in the patrol car, the other officer spoke urgently into a hand-held radio, spitting out words that Francis couldn’t quite make out

Francis wanted to call, I’m here, over here, but he couldn’t see warers whirl around his body, poking, prodding

An eerie pulling sensation started in the pit of his stomach and radiated outward The world tilted slowly, slowly, and he felt hi draay from the road Or the road disappeared out fro, closer, closer, the sky curling around hi him

His last thought was Madelaine

And then there was nothing

Chapter Fifteen

At s and rose from the couch Credits rolled across a black screen on her television set, acco, romantic music She dabbed at her eyes, e roo at such a bad movie Not that she’d ever been able to help herself It was the strangest thing—she hadn’t cried when her ood Hallmark commercial and she wept like a baby

She glanced at the clock on the mantel: 12:15

Francis was late

Nothing new in that, of course; he was always late She reached down for her cup of decaf tea and downed the last lukewar the roo onto the porch She flicked the overhead fixture on and stood in the puddle of light

The stor itself intoon the ay Beside her, the porch swing creaked and rocked off kilter A distant ru

She frowned, staring through the glooroaned,