Prologue
It was dark and cold, the end of a long day, and I hoped as I left my office that I'd make it home before the
approaching storm arrived. I was saying good night to my staff when I noticed that my assistant Michael was on a call
that was clearly troubling him. He looked at me, mouthed the name of a client I remembered fondly from a few years
back, and pantomimed that she was crying. I stepped back into my office, closed the door, and picked up the phone,
barely noticing the low rumble of thunder that shook the window beside me. "Robin, it's Sylvia."
"Oh, Sylvia, thank God I got through to you. You're my last hope. Or should I say our last hope. It's about my
husband." I could hear the fear in her voice as a disturbing story spilled out of her. It seems that one day four years
earlier her husband, Rick, a successful landscape architect, had headed out for a routine trip to the grocery store,
returned without ...
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