She craned her neck and squinted, straining to see through the foggy curtain of snow lit by the headlamps of the taxi. “What?” she asked.

“There’s someone on the bridge.”

“What do you mean?”

He slowed and pulled over. “There. Isn’t that a jumper?”

A woman stood alone on the wrong side of the bridge rail. She had somehow gone around the protective chain-link fencing and was facing out over the river. She wore no coat, and the wind whipped her hair around her face.

Chills zipped down Elaine’s spine. “What’s going on? Is that woman...” She stopped, unable to voice her fear.

“They say this is the time of year for it.”

She wrenched open the door of the taxi and got out. Eerily, there was no one in sight—only the taxi...and the woman on the bridge rail.

Elaine walked through the snowy night, feeling the cold feathers of snowflakes on her face. She headed toward the woman, no longer intent on finding Tony but on trying to help.

It was absurd, of course. What could she possibly do to help? She whipped a glance around, but still no cars emerged from the storm. “This is the busiest bridge in the city,” she muttered through chattering teeth. “How can it be deserted?”

Down on the river, the heartbeat rhythm of a boat motor pulsed into the ghostly stillness of the night. The winter wind off the water smelled cold and harsh. Shuddering with apprehension, Elaine approached the woman. The misty glow of a sodium vapor light illuminated the slender form, the delicate profile, her features seemingly frozen by the wind off the water. She wore nothing but a suede skirt and cashmere sweater—no coat, no hat, no gloves.

An icy sense of recognition raced over Elaine. Her heart jolted. Numbed by dread, she stepped to the chain-link fence and clutched at the cold wires. “Bobbi,” she said, obeying an instinct to keep her voice low. “It’s me, Elaine.”

Bobbi didn’t seem startled, so that was something. Nor did she seem in the least surprised to encounter Elaine. As fragile and brittle as a snowflake, Bobbi did not move. She simply stood there, like a figurehead at the prow of a ship.

“Go away,” she said simply, her voice clear and firm.

“Not on your li—not in a million years. I’m so glad I’m here,” she said. “Please don’t hurt yourself, Bobbi. Please.”

“What does it matter to you?”

“Well, for one thing, I didn’t get a chance to tell you how sorry I am about today.”

“Oh, that’s great, Elaine. Let’s make this about you.”

Elaine was slightly encouraged by Bobbi’s anger. “That’s not what I’m doing.”

“Then what are you doing, Elaine? Trying to improve my life for fun and profit?”