that's how I see him. With that little red club. For a long time I hadn't been able to picture him like that. He's so much like a man now. But since he's been gone, all I see is that little, happy kid in the backyard hitting golf balls."

Myron nodded. He stretched out his hand toward hers.

"Let's go, Linda," he said gently.

She stood They walked together in silence. The night sky was so bright it looked wet. Myron wanted to reach out and hold her hand. But he didn't. When they got to her car, Linda unlocked it with a remote control. Then she opened the door as Myron began circling for the passenger side. He stopped suddenly.

The envelope was on her seat.

For several seconds, neither of them moved. The envelope was manila, big enough for an eight by ten photograph.

It was flat except for an area in the middle that puffed up a bit.

Linda Coldren looked up at Myron. Myron reached down, and using his palms, he picked up the envelope by the edges. There was writing on the back. Block letters:

I WARNED YOU NOT SEEK HELP

NOW CHAD PAYS THE PRICE

CROSS US AGAIN AND IT WILL GET MUCH WORSE.

Dread wrapped Myron's chest in tight steel bands. He slowly reached out and tentatively touched the puffy part with just a knuckle. It felt claylike. Carefully, Myron slit the seal open. He tumed the envelope upside down and let the contents fall to the car seat.

The severed finger bounced once and then settled onto the leather.

Chapter 18

Myron stared, unable to speak.

Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod . . .

Raw terror engulfed him. He started shivering, and his body went numb. He looked down at the note in his hand.

A voice inside his head said, Your fault, Myron. Your fault.

He tumed to Linda Coldren. Her hand fluttered near her mouth, her eyes wide.

Myron tried to step toward her, but he staggered like a boxer who didn't take advantage of a standing eight count. "We have to call someone," he managed, his voice sounding distant even to him. "The FBI. I have friends- " `

"No." Her tone was strong. ~

"Linda, listen to me .... "

"Read the note," she said.

"But "

"Read the note," she repeated. She lowered her head grimly. "You're out of this now, Myron."

"You don't know what you're dealing with."

"Oh no?" Her head snapped up. Her hands tightened into fists. "I'm dealing with a sick monster," she said.

"The kind of monster who maims at the slightest provocation." She stepped closer to the car. "He cut off my son's finger just because I talked to you. What do you think he'd do if I went directly against his orders?"

Myron's head swirled. "Linda, paying off the ransom doesn't guarantee "

"I know that," she interrupted.

"But . . ." His mind hailed about helplessly and then said something exceedingly dumb. "You don't even know if it's his finger."