The long way home

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The Killer in the Mirror The man with the knife was a stranger. I never saw him before he tried to kill me.

I was in the Whitney Library when it happened, about seven miles from my hometown of Spring Hill. I'd been there for about forty-five minutes. I had come with a plan-a plan to clear my name, to get free, to get home to my family and out of danger. Now I had to leave. It wasn't safe for me to stay in any one place for very long.

I was in the main research room on the library's second floor. I went down the hall and pushed into the men's room. I took off my black fleece and hung it on the door of one of the stalls. Then, wearing just my jeans and black T-shirt, I stood at the sink and splashed cold water on my face.

I was tired-way tired. I had been on the road-on the run-I don't know-several weeks-a long time. I had to fight to stay alert. If I didn't stay alert, I wouldn't stay alive.

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