He had tried to reach Helen by phone, but the house line was busy and he knew she didn’t have her cell on. Think, you son of a bitch. Think. Had he left the phone off the hook after the conversation with Amanda Seigel this morning?

For the life of him, he couldn’t remember.

About halfway to Jackson, he finally had to slow down. The car was fishtailing wildly around the corners, its skinny tires slipping in the snow that blanketed the road. The driving was getting worse. He switched on the radio, hoping to take his mind off things a little, take the edge off the silence, maybe catch a weather report. The radio was playing a country song, “Take This Job and Shove It.” Appropriate, he thought. Except I’m going to do a lot more than shove when this is all over. He thought of Mike Olmstead, and their friendly first meeting; it made him feel sick inside, like someone had thrust a knife into his stomach and twisted.

The song ended and the announcer came on. “Looks like an ugly one out there,” he crackled, fading in and out. “Hope you’re inside, wherever you are. It’s the ninth of March and it’s snowing, folks! It’s been forecast as the largest spring storm since the one that dumped over sixty centimeters on us in eighty-six. Keep warm, people.”

He switched off the radio, feeling even more anxious than before. The wipers slipped across the windshield, scraping softly, and he turned them up a notch. Outside, the snow came down even harder, if that was possible. He stepped gingerly on the brakes, slowing the car down to fifty-five, which was still breakneck speed. Thank God there’s no traffic, he thought. A car had passed by him on the way out of town, but he had yet to come up on one traveling the same direction; apparently, nobody else was stupid enough to drive in one of the worst storms in recent history.

The clock on the dashboard read ten fifteen. He was only about twenty minutes from the house, but he fought the urge to press the accelerator to the floor again, knowing that if he did, he might never make it to the house at all.

They’re fine, Davey, just fine. Take it easy.

But there remained the very real possibility that he was dealing with a madman here, a man who had been under the influence of some sort of chemical hallucinogen for God knows how long, and the last thing he wanted to do was run off the road and into a tree. His family needed him. He prayed he had not already let them down. Why did I leave them this morning? Why didn’t I take them with me?