CHAPTER THREE

Driving the lonely stretch of highway at night, it seemed even his headlights gave up after only a few feet in their attempt to pierce the darkness ahead.  The cabin of their car was unusually silent, and he strained to hear his own breathing.  There was no road noise, either, but a soft sound--a single pitch--gnawed at his brain with insistence to be heard.  The sound grew in both volume and intensity, but instead of searching for the source in front where it surely lay, he turned his head to look behind.

Riley, his only daughter, looking like pictures of her mother at that age, sat quietly strapped in her car seat with her head turned, staring out the window.  Her yellow dress, the one her mother had picked out only hours before, was brighter than anythi...

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