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with the visor curled the way Matty did his. He looked about the same age, same size . . . |
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She sipped her coffee and glanced over the front page, grateful she had something to keep her distracted. But her mind could not hold any of it. There was an article about a Middle East terrorist attack. A big parade was planned for Portland tomorrow. On the bottom left were the headlines: NEW BIOTECH CZAR TO REVIEW PENDING GENE LEGISLATION. There was a picture of the man . . . he had a high forehead and a lean face, lidded, intelligent eyes. She thought about reading it but decided it meant nothing to her. None of it did. The world did not touch her life. |
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Up the street the paperboy was pushing his cart. |
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And then she remembered . . . Matty was wearing the locket the day he died, and the stainless steel emergency tag the doctors insisted he wear. Along with his remains they had found charred scraps of his shoes and clothes, the buckle of his belt, a few coins, and his Swiss pocket knife. But no chain, no pendant, no tag. And they had gone over the place with a metal detector . . . |
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Terry went into the house and called the airline. The only available seat was on the evening flight. She called Calvin at his hotel and told him to meet her at Logan Airport at eight-thirty. When he asked her why, she didn't say. All she knew . . . felt . . . was the urge to go back home, even if it made no sense. |
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Calvin tried to talk her out of it but finally gave up. After all, what difference did it make? She had nothing left to lose. |
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