Anne followed the jump to the first page of Metro, and there was the note Raleigh had written before his suicide attempt:

There is a demon inside my soul. My demon tries to lead me down paths I do not want to follow. My demon is working inside my soul again, filling me with despair and taking away my hope.

All of my life people have seen me as strong. The truth is just the opposite. I am the weakest of the weak. People have seen me as good. The truth is just the opposite. I am the baddest of the bad. People have seen me as virtuous. The truth is just the opposite. I am the lowest of the low.

Pray for Peggy, take care of my children, and forgive me the pain I inflict on so many. I have grown weak. God has remained strong. Therein lies your hope. I have none.

Anne stood there in the plume of exhaust as it billowed across the lawn.

The end of a new year. Same old shit.

That evening, Anne and Daniel Malone sheered along Northwest Highway, heading east into the dark streets of Lake Highlands. The rain was coming down in a thin sleet, and Anne was nervous that the roads were icing over. Her tension filled the cold air inside the car—the heat in the Zephyr was diverted entirely toward defrost. There was no room for chatting; Anne had to concentrate—on the lookout for patches of black ice and other unknown perils. That it was a gloomy winter evening in East Dallas, an unfamiliar part of town, added to her worry. Dan had the Mapsco on his lap and had already rerouted them once. Anne had been heading on Walnut Hill to Lake Highlands High School, but that wasn’t where the swim meet was—they had to find the White Rock Natatorium, and they were a little lost. Dan raised the map into the glare from the headlights of the cars behind them. If they had just taken the LBJ, like he suggested, it was easy. But highway driving in these conditions was inconceivable to his mother, who clutched the steering wheel awkwardly at nine and six o’clock, afraid to go hand over hand in the turnoff for Garland Road. The only problem was there was no turnoff for Garland Road. Then a sign. construction on garland road. alt route, jupiter road.

“I don’t know where we are.”

“It’s okay, this will loop back.”

“So take it?”

“Make a right.” Dan looked up from the Mapsco, scanning the darkness for a street sign or landmark. “This is better, actually.”

Back to anguished silence. Luckily they did loop back to Garland Road and, after a couple more turns, were relieved to find the parking lot for the pool.

“What time does this end?” Anne asked over the crunch of tires on gravel mixed with sleet.

“Eight or nine, I guess.”