by P J Parrish
“Any time.”
He started toward the door.
“Mr. Kincaid?”
He turned back.
“You didn’t tell me. Did you find what you’re looking for?” she asked.
Louis hesitated, then nodded.
Back outside, he paused to turn up his collar and hurried back across campus to retrieve the rental car. He drove with the window down, the brisk April air still bringing the smell of phantom lilacs. The Burton Tower bell was striking four as he pulled up to the red light on State Street.
A left turn led him south toward the airport. A right turn would take him across the river and up north.
He looked at his watch. It was late, but there was still time.
The light turned green. The car behind him honked once, twice.
Louis swung the wheel to the right and headed north. She was four hours ahead of him, but if he drove fast, he’d be there before dark.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
We need to mention several people whose help was essential to this story’s creation.
First, a huge thank-you to Holly Van Sickle, who allowed us to wander the grounds and prowl through the rooms of her splendid old family farm in Michigan. The real farm is a lovely place, as far from hell as one can get.
Second, the usual thank-you to Dr. Doug Lyle for his medical advice.
Third, our gratitude to Daniel, our editor of first-resort; to our talented editor at Pocket, Mitchell Ivers, who lets us sing in our own voice; and to our friend and agent Maria Carvainis.
Finally, we owe a debt in our research to Dr. Brian Weiss, M.D., whose books on past-life regression gave this story its grounding. And for futher reading on the Underground Railroad and slave journals, we highly recommend The Great Escapes: Four Slave Journals, introduction and notes by Daphne A. Brooks.
*Published by POCKET BOOKS
*Published by POCKET BOOKS