Ten weeks ago

She wasn't wearing any shoes. That was his first impression.

His second impression was that the attractive brunette was completely insane. She had to be if she was approaching him.

He watched warily as she struggled through the narrow opening in the barrier and stared out at the sight before her. She was now perched alongside him on a support beam of a tall bridge high above a very dark, cold river.

Her eyes, wide with fear, finally landed fully on him.

"Hey!" she called out. The swift wind blew the bottom part of her thin, silky dress up above her knees to show off her long legs. Her leather coat, more fashionable than adequate as protection against the cool early winter chill, gaped open in the front.

Don't come any closer, he thought. She was going to get herself killed climbing out past the safety barrier of the bridge. Dying was his goal that night, but he'd rather not see anyone else suffer the same fate.

"Go away," he said simply.

She didn't go away. Instead her gaze moved around erratically. "Holy crap. This is high up, isn't it?"

A marvelous observation. He eyed her as she shuffled closer to him. Insane. Most definitely insane.

"Help me!"

He frowned. "Help yourself. Can't you see that I'm trying to kill myself here?"

Quelling any thoughts of empathy, he gazed down at the dark waters of the Don River hundreds of feet below them. Quite honestly, there could not be a worse time for him to have been interrupted. She was putting herself into extreme danger.

"Help me first and then kill yourself," the woman suggested.

Who was she? What was she doing there? Did she know who he was? Had she been sent to stop him from ending his already overlong life?

No. The young woman who'd chosen to climb out onto the bridge in bare feet at the very end of a particularly cold month of November hadn't sought him out in particular. He could see it in her eyes. He could taste her fear. This was merely a coincidence.