“I can’t believe it,” Echo said as Dodge pulled her up.

He caught her face in his hands. “I can. Didn’t I tell you? The ones who love you always come back.”

She smiled, her eyes sparkling, and looked at Charlie, Viper, and even her mother. And finally, back to Dodge. “Yes. I guess they do.”

And then, as the northern lights arched over them, and the massive hulk of Denali watched, he kissed her.

Because Dodge Kingston was finally home.

Someone had turned on the television.

She knew because of the ads—they played over and over, with funny jingles that now, unfortunately, stuck in her head.

Like the one for MyPillow.

And, “Like a good neighbor” . . . If she heard the State Farm song again, she might throw a pillow at the television.

If she were awake. If her body didn’t feel like glue under layers of gauzy film. If she didn’t constantly succumb to the sense that she had her fingers around something, grasping freedom, only to fall back into the shadows.

If the darkness didn’t feel so . . . enveloping. Because she could hide in the darkness. Didn’t have to wake and face it all.

“It’s up to you.”

Roy again, his voice soft and deep in the folds of her mind.

Stop.

She focused on the television and recognized the game show Jeopardy. Listened to the chosen category. “Figures in History for two hundred.”

“After the deed, he leaped to the stage, shouting, ‘Sic semper tyrannis!’”

She knew this one. Who was John Wilkes Booth, after he shot Abraham Lincoln?

“Who was John Wilkes Booth?”

Latin. She knew Latin. Thus always to tyrants.

Of course she knew Latin. She hadn’t forgotten everything lying here.

“What’s Up, Doc, for one hundred.”

Yes. This was her category.

“Some algae have been classified in this kingdom, neither fully plant nor animal.”

Oh, oh—what is Protista?

“What is Protista or protists?”

Biology 101, people.

She could smell dinner, or something like it—chicken soup, mashed potatoes—filtering in from the hall. It was clearly after 5:00 p.m., which meant the nurse with the soft hands would be coming in soon. The one who sometimes stood at the foot of her bed, her hand on her leg, humming. Maybe praying.

The one who took her hand, deep in the night, when the past found her, haunted her. The soft-handed nurse comforted her and told her it was okay to wake up.

Maybe. Maybe not.

“In 1816 French physician René Laënnec fashioned the first one of these instruments from a hollow wooden tube.”

What is a stethoscope?

“What is a stethoscope?”

“Good evening, Jane.” The voice spoke over the television, and she tried to ignore it, listening to the game show host.

She could feel something awakening inside her.

“Often found in areas with large deer populations, this bacterial inflammatory disease was first identified in 1975.”