metallic, something sweet, filled the

nst the Chicago twilight. Then I saw the car, a low-slung, obscenely

en I s

lay on the asphalt, a few fee

small crowd, my heart hammering against my ribs. A

on't want to

streetlights. My husband, Andrew, was a still, broken shape on the ground. My son,

sound escaping my li

pression lit a cigarette. He flicked his lighter shut and gl

enough for me to hear. "This is

om his cigarette, then

e you st

raw whisper.

me back. Paramedics were there, but they weren't ru

his car. He swaggered over, pulling a thick wad of cash from h

g with contempt. "Buy yourself a n

shock. I tried to stand, to launch my

his back to me, and angled it to get the wreckage and my crumpled form

. Someone yelled

as too busy typing a capt

unding Barney protectively. An older man, his face a mask of cold fury, emerged. Mr. Hu

e bodies of my husband and son. He looked

," Mr. Hughes said, his

y community outreach work, looke

. Hughes cut him off. His lawyers were already talking

ent, and his face went slack. He hung up and looked at me, h

The initial report... it seems your husban

school zone! There are signs ever

appear to be malfunctioning," the captain said

ly to his men. They mo

ng to my feet. "Don't you

mbulance, not a city one, pulled up. They were loading my husban

ou taking them?" I cried, strugg

to look at me, his eyes as

aner this way. We've arranged for a cremation

l smirking, gave me a little wave be

The Lamborghini was loaded onto a

s empty, except for me, on my knees, and the bloodstains on the pa