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MADELINE WESTFIELD NEVER saw the car co

It was late at night, and chilly for the beginning of Nove to cross Park Avenue at East Eighty-Eighth Street Lost in thought, yes, and with h reason these days She was an e between pedestrians, taxicabs and speeding motorists was second nature to her She’d been a Manhattan resident for most of her life

She’d watched for the walk sign to flash frolance around

The crossas still

She took her initial steps into the street

The screech of tires was her first warning Then came the flash of motion from her peripheral vision

Her head snapped around, and she cahts A black SUV was roaring in her direction It veered sharply at her, leaving no doubt that its goal was to hit her head-on

Self-preservation kicked in She lunged away, hurling herself backward and crashing to the sidewalk, a pile of wet leaves doing nothing to cushion her fall

The iainst the concrete rocketed through her Her head struck the ground—hard She cried out in pain, saw stars

Somewhere in the dim recesses of herof tires, and the terrifying thought occurred to her that the driver was going to try again

“Miss, are you all right?” a gravelly ed to rounded the corner

Madeline had never felt such great relief at the sound of another huentle a leash The Brussels griffon at the other end of the leash was eye level with her He trotted over to take a sniff

“No, Max!” thedown at Madeline, his forehead creased in concern “Did you trip? Can you move?”

He hadn’t seen what happened He wasn’t a witness

As Madeline opened her ine roar in the distance as it sped down Park Avenue

“I” She shifted her weight and winced Her right side was killing her Her head was throbbing violently And “Max” looked like two dogs, not one Double vision A concussion Not to mention some major bruises—possibly even sons