Face Off

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Thanks to Anne Sowards, my editor, for her much-appreciated patience and support, and to Sara and Bob Schwager, copy editors extraordinaire, who always make me look good. I would also like to thank John Liguori, Paul Carroll, and An-drew Schieffelin, who patiently listen to my rants and still return my calls knowing one’s coming. And special thanks to Jack, who gave me the time and space to write.

THE DESOLATE ROAD stretched off into the darkness like a black scar through the woods. In the predawn light, the trees leaned forward, their leaves dull gray, void of true color, their trunks shadows among shadows. Laura Blackstone shifted in her car seat, the engine a soft rumble behind the classical music whispering from the speakers. Watching the road, she sipped her coffee. Other cars sat hidden among the trees, a bit of chrome here and there gleaming beneath the waning moon, the glow of cell phones dancing like orange fireflies as others waited with her.

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