Blackwood Creek, a tiny, forgotten town t

followed her since birth: she would

disaster wo

ory hanging over us, a

too skeptical for my own good, bu

ver made a sound, not a hum

cessful architect in Chicago, always a

the shadow of her silence and

the prophecy a

n my la

uge presentation, the kind tha

sed, pacing

p to him, to

en, sh

rough whisper, u

go, D

e words.

mix of shock and something e

said he had to go,

from our high-rise

leepwalking, no

city cop who' d seen

stione

only with a few shaky notes, mostly

as an accident, stres

n Blackwood Creek, but in our Chicag

cu

ords had br