“We’ll meet at the stadium to watch the Indians invent a new way to lose real soon,” Mitch offered, to break the awkward silence. Then they turned to look at their wives.

Carolyn and Rachel were holding hands and looking into each other’s eyes. Of course they were both crying, and making promises to stay in touch and speak every day. Finally, Danny and Mitch had to pull them apart. They climbed into the car, with Rachel mouthing “every day, every single day” to Carolyn, and then Danny pulled their big maroon SUV out of the driveway and they headed off to Akron.

When they were just about twenty feet down the road, Rachel screamed “wait!” and suddenly the car screeched to a halt. She jumped out and ran over to Carolyn; she had forgotten to give her something. She handed her a piece of paper, and then ran back to the car and off they went, this time for real. Carolyn opened the paper and recognized her own handwriting, and the phone number she had written on it the day they met.

CHAPTER 6

November Sky

What’s done cannot be undone.
—William Shakespeare, Macbeth

EIGHTY-THREE CAVES ROAD, Danny and Rachel Turner’s new home, was set back on an acre of land, like all the other houses in the Wingate subdivision. Its long, curving driveway made the house feel isolated and remote. Tom Schroeder reduced his speed as he rolled up the driveway, until the house came fully into view. Unlike the other homes in the neighborhood that were bustling with activity on this typical Wednesday morning, the Turner house was completely dark, which was the first thing to strike Tom as odd. What was it that Tony had said about the weird voice mail or e-mail he’d gotten from Danny?

The barren trees that framed the house gave an already bleak November morning more of an ominous feeling, sending a shiver through Tom. His whole body shook uncontrollably for an instant. “Where the hell did that come from, Schroeder? Goose walk across your grave?’ he said out loud in an attempt at frivolity meant to counter the creepy sensation that had suddenly descended upon him.

Before getting out of the truck, Tom scanned the windows, room by room, hoping to see even a single light. But every room was black. For an instant he thought he saw a figure at the window of the master bedroom, but when he glanced back it was empty and dark. Something told him he might wind up having to shimmy open a window, so he rummaged around in the glove compartment until he found a screwdriver; however, he knew he really was hesitating because of an overwhelming, irrational desire to leave.