A blast of winter hit her hard.
A cacophony of street noise, traffic, music, voices rushed up nineteen floors.
The huddled little figure moved.
“Oh, honey-” Kat whispered, her throat suddenly tight.
The interior light snapped off.
The figure turned a face toward her, and even through the fog in her mind and the semidarkness of the city, she recognized the face-not of her missing daughter, but of a treacherous, wicked liar.
“You,” she spat, trying to turn away. Blindly, she flailed, trying to escape.
Too late.
Strong fingers grabbed her shoulders and a fierce, intent weight shoved her closer to the short brick wall surrounding the verandah. Kat screamed. Her knees hit the century-old brickwork; she tried to grab something, anything, to no avail. The force of her body slammed against her backside-the sheer determination of her attacker propelled her forward, closer to the edge and the crumbling…“No! Oh, God, no!” Kat cried, seeing a hand in her peripheral vision. Gloved fingers clutched a bit of brick. Kat cringed.
Bam!
Pain exploded behind her eyes. Blackness pulled her under. She started to sag, but was propped up, pushed forward, the railing hitting her in her middle and disintegrating with her weight.
And then suddenly she was falling, sailing through the cold night air…
PART ONE
1
If only she could remember.
If only she knew the truth.
If only she were certain she wasn’t on a fool’s mission. She glanced up at the dark October sky and felt the gentle wash of Oregon mist against her face. Had she ever tilted her head back and let the moistness linger on her lips and cheeks? Had she stood on this very corner, across the street from the old Hotel Danvers, holding onto her mother’s hand, waiting for the light to change?