Excerpt from AFTERMATH:

He rang the night bell several times before Mrs. Flanagan shuffled to the door tying her robe at her waist as she came. At first glance, he thought her eyes were red-rimmed from sleep, then realized the woman was crying.

 

 “Is something wrong?” He put the professional tone in his voice, hoping to make the question sound less invasive.

 

“Oh, yes, David. Everyone in town’s just sick about the news this morning. That precious Memory Smith is dead.”

 

 “What?” He choked on the word and blinked to focus.

 

“Killed right out there on the highway, she was. Run over. They found her body not two miles down the way.” She indicated the highway in front of the motel. “The poor, sweet thing. She was so tore up, they figured it must have been one of those eighteen-wheelers that got her.” She mopped her nose with a tissue. “Tore all to pieces, they tell me, layin’ right there by the side of the road. That precious, precious child.”....He nodded, glad he knew exactly where Memory was and in what condition, which was most decidedly not dead.