Contents
COVER
TITLE PAGE
WELCOME
DEDICATION
THIS USED TO BE MY HOME.
I DRIVE TO THE UNIVERSITY OF ROCHESTER.
I PUSH THROUGH HERMETICALLY SEALED DOUBLE DOORS INTO THE PSYCH BUILDING.
“STOP!” A MAN SHOUTS.
MIKE TAKES OFF THE CAMPUS COP JACKET AND HANGS IT ON A METAL FENCE POST.
I PRESS DOWN ON THE GAS, AND THE ACCORD RESPONDS WITH A ROAR.
I WAS LOCKED IN A SMALL ROOM.
“YOU REMEMBER THAT DAY, DON’T YOU?” MIKE SAYS.
IT TAKES A LITTLE OVER AN HOUR TO GET TO CAYUGA HEIGHTS.
MIKE OPENS HIS BACKPACK.
IT SEEMS LIKE A NORMAL KITCHEN IN A COUNTRY HOUSE.
I EDGE FORWARD, MOTIONING HOWARD AND TANYA TO FOLLOW.
HOWARD AND TANYA ARE IN THE BACKSEAT.
BACK AT THE TABLE, TANYA IS NOSE-DEEP IN A PLATE OF WAFFLES.
I GET US AWAY FROM THE DINER, AWAY FROM WHERE WE HAVE LAST BEEN SEEN.
I KEEP US NINE MILES OVER THE SPEED LIMIT.
TANYA’S EYES ARE PUFFY FROM CRYING.
A CAR ACCIDENT.
THE ARTICLE CALLED IT FITCH’S BRIDGE.
THE STATE POLICE BARRACKS ARE IN A SMALL, BROWN-BRICK BUILDING OFF WATKINS ROAD.
THE WATER IS BORDERED BY THICK PINES ON ALL SIDES.
CHILDREN CRY IN THE FOREST.
I’VE SLEPT TOO LONG.
A NIGHT’S SLEEP HAS DONE WONDERS FOR HIM.
WE PASS A CONVENIENCE STORE THAT LOOKS PROMISING.
I WAS RIGHT.
THE LAST THING THEY WOULD EXPECT IS FOR US TO DRIVE UP TO THE GATE.
THE NEXT MOMENTS WILL BE CRITICAL.
SILBERSTEIN USES A BADGE TO UNLOCK THE SECURITY DOOR.
THREE GUARDS WITH GUNS ON THEIR BELTS.
THERE IS BLOOD.
TANYA HAS PULLED THE CAR UP TO THE DOOR.
TANYA DRIVES LIKE A WOMAN ON A MISSION.
ALIVE.
MOTHER LOOKS OUT AT ME FROM THE IPHONE SCREEN.
FIVE HOURS IS A LONG TIME.
I TURN ON MY PROGRAM PHONE.
I RUN.
MY EYES ARE OPEN.
I DO NOT DREAM.
WE LIE IN BED AFTER, WRAPPED IN EACH OTHER’S ARMS.
I WALK INTO THE KITCHEN.
I PASS THROUGH THE GARAGE.
MOTHER SOUNDS WORRIED.
I USE EVERY INCH OF THE THREE MILES I’VE GIVEN MYSELF.
HOWARD ISN’T IN THE GARAGE.
THE ELECTRIC DOORS OF A KMART SLIDE OPEN.
THE SMOKE DRIFTS IN WAVES, MOVING ACROSS THE STORE ON AIR-CONDITIONED CURRENTS.
DARK FIGURES MOVE THROUGH THE SMOKE.
COPS ARE DESCENDING ON THE AREA FROM EVERY DIRECTION.
IT RINGS FOUR TIMES.
IT’S EARLY EVENING BY THE TIME WE ENTER THE SARATOGA SPRINGS CITY LIMITS.
I NOTE THE SECURITY CAMERAS SUSPENDED ABOVE THE GATE.
THE MAYOR TAKES ME INTO THE DEN.
IT’S DONE.
THE SOUND OF THE DOOR WAKES ME.
THE BEEPING OF A HEART MONITOR PULLS ME TOWARD CONSCIOUSNESS.
I FEEL THE WARMTH OF THE SUN ON MY FACE.
I’M NOT IN A HOSPITAL.
WE STEP INTO A LARGE, EMPTY GYMNASIUM.
I STAND ALONE ON THE STAIRS OUTSIDE THE GYM, TRYING TO UNDERSTAND WHAT I’VE JUST SEEN.
I STEP INSIDE.
MOTHER IS ALONE, WAITING FOR ME ACROSS THE CAMPUS LAWN.
TANYA GUIDES ME INTO THE BASEMENT OF A NEARBY BUILDING.
THIS USED TO BE MY HOME.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
COPYRIGHT
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