The Edge

guest room for Sherlock and Savich."

    I called Maggie Sheffield and told her where we'd be if anything happened to turn up, which I strongly doubted. So did she, but she was nice enough not to say so.

    I fell asleep in Laura's very comfortable bed, at arm's length from Laura because Grubster had decided to pun-the night away snuggled against her side.

    I dreamed I saw headlights, bright and sharp, piercing through a dense fog that seemed to cover everything in a thick veil of white.

    Odd, but I could clearly see the road ahead. It was coming at me quickly, too quickly. I wanted to yell and smash down on the brakes, but I couldn't. If there were brakes, I didn't know where to find them. I wanted to get away from that highway that was moving so quickly, but I was helpless. I was trapped.

    I couldn't draw a breath I was so afraid. Suddenly, I heard a soft keening sound from beside me. It was a woman moaning as if she hadn't anything left, as if there was nothing more for her and she knew it and accepted it.

    I wanted us both to stop, but the road kept coming up through those bright headlights, faster and faster. I tried to tell her I was here with her, that I would help if I could. But she couldn't hear me.

    I heard her speaking now, quietly. She was praying. I was nearly part of her in those moments when she prayed for forgiveness.

    I knew I was dreaming despite what I thought, what I felt. I wanted to wake up but I couldn't.

    The road disappeared. I was thrown forward hard, but then everything seemed to fade away. We were flying out into the fog, sailing high, then dropping toward the water.

    I was aware of immense pain slamming through me, a tremendous pressure against my chest that didn't really hurt but was just there. Then it too was gone. There was just an eerie sense of calm, of finality. So easy, I thought, it was so very easy. I smiled at the gentleness of it, smiled even as everything simply went black, and I felt nothing at all.

    The next morning the four of us stood together on the cliff, looking out over the water. It didn't take long. A man in scuba gear split the surface of the water and yelled, "She's down here!"

    I'd known Jilly would be. In my dream I was down there with her.

    Another man came up beside him. He called out, "There are two cars down there, next to each other. There's a white Porsche that looks like it's been there awhile and the one she's in looks like a rental car."

Epilogue

    Washington, D.C. Three Months Later

    Squawk." "Keep your feathers on, Nolan." I dumped a pile of sunflower seeds in my palm and reached inside his cage.

    "Squawk."

    "Here you go."

    Grubster rubbed against my bare leg. "Yep, you're next, fella."

    You'd look at Grubster and believe he'd eat anything that didn't move out of his path he was so big, but it wasn't true. Grubster ate only gourmet cat food. That had started the day we'd all moved into a new town house in Georgetown.

    "He thinks he's upscale now," Laura had said. "It's his statement of self-worth."

    I put a slice of bread into the toaster and got out the can opener. I forked out an entire can of salmon and rice into Grubster's big white bowl, with a smiling cat face on the bottom, petted his back, rubbed his ears, and listened to him purr as he chowed down.

    "Squawk."

    I waved a hot slice of toast until it cooled and broke off small pieces for Nolan.

    "Everyone happy now?"

    There was blessed silence.

    It was Saturday morning, already warm and promising to be hot by noon, and Laura was still asleep. I was about to go back to bed to kiss her awake when the doorbell rang.

    "Just a minute," I called out and went into the bedroom to pull on a pair of jeans.

    "A registered letter. Are you Mr. MacDougal?"

    I nodded. "Who is it from?"

    "It's from Oregon, that's all I know."

    I don't know what I expected, but this wasn't it. It was a short note from a lawyer in Salem, Oregon, telling me only that my sister wished this to be mailed to me exactly three months after her death had been confirmed.

    My hand shook as I smoothed out the pages.

    My dearest Ford:

    I wonder if you will be with me tonight. If so, you will know what it is I have done. I am so sorry to cause you this pain, but I will be grateful if you are there with me.

    How can I begin? At the beginning, I suppose. Paul and I had such great hopes for my brainchild. I managed to bond a neurotransmitter involved with memory to an opiate, and was surprised when the compound