Back home felt even emptier than it had. The empty silence was overwhelming. I laid down in the bedroom upstairs. Trying to sleep was pointless. My thoughts raced. That childhood dream... the dog attack, and now the appalling scene at Stockman Hospital. How could this be happening? With a growing apprehension I went back downstairs to my study. I examined the stack of papers lying beside the old machine and reread the excerpts I had written so far. Each was more gruesome than the next. I sat down in front of the old machine with my fingers trembling on the keys. My thoughts drifted to Shelley’s whereabouts and the accusatory investigator. Like a nervous child, I began biting at my fingernails. Worry consumed me, and within moments I bit too deeply. I jumped at the pain, and when I squeezed the small wound my f...

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