By dawn he’d reached the great stone ramparts of the Brooklyn Bridge, faintly blue in the chill morning air. The rain had stopped, and a heavy mist rose from the gray waters. As he looked at it, he thought of Lazar, all the photographs he’d taken of people huddled together, shrouded in the mist, waylaid by the storm, but searching through it anyway, enduring and eternal, relentless as the unrelenting rain.
A chill breeze swept up from the river. He lifted his collar against it, briefly headed back uptown, then thought better of it and turned southward again, moving out onto the bridge, walking steadily until he’d reached its towering center. The wind was cold as it blew unhindered over the river. It chilled his lungs and tore madly at his hair, but he continued to stand silently between the great gray arches, with emptiness below, he knew, and above, more emptiness.
And yet?
Standing.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
copyright © 1991 by Thomas H. Cook
cover design by Jason Gabbert
This edition published in 2011 by MysteriousPress.com/Open Road Integrated Media
180 Varick Street
New York, NY 10014
www.openroadmedia.com
