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Would he die without her?  
    Abby wasn't trained in any medical procedures. She'd seen CPR done on TV, but that was it. Still, she had to do something .  
    She had to help him.  
    Where was the man who did this?
    Snow had blanketed the windows again, obscuring her surroundings. Her neighbor could be anywhere. Waiting. Although it was possible the man had left her husband for dead, there was a chance he was still in the area. He'd seen Abby. He'd seen them both. He knew she was in here, for God's sake.
    I even waved to him.  
    The thought chilled her bones. She thought of the way the man had stared at her, the way he'd refused to return her gesture. She'd known something was off about him. She shouldn't have sent Rob out there alone.
    Oh God, what have I done?
    But it was too late.
    She threw on her gloves and reached for the door handle.
    Hurry! Rob's bleeding and he's dying and he's on the ground. You need to get to him before that man does.  
    Resisting every instinct in her body, she hit the unlock button. The doors clicked. For a brief, terror-filled second, she was certain the man who had attacked her husband would fling open the doors and pull her from inside, but no one did.
    The man's gone. He's probably running right now, thinking I've called the police.  
      She tried to convince herself of the idea as she pushed open the door. The hinges creaked as the door swung open. The snow whipped all around her.
    Abby threw herself into the storm. The chill bit into her bones, finding its way through the crevices of her jacket. She scanned the street, but saw nothing. Rob wasn't in front of the car. That meant he'd fallen on the passenger side.  
    She took a tentative step. Then another. The wind heaved, and she held up her hands to shield her eyes.
    "Rob?" she called out, her voice cracking.  
    She glanced around frantically, but there was no one else in sight. She trudged forward, making slow progress against the wind. She cleared the tire. Then the front quarter panel. Then the hood. A few more steps and she'd see the passenger side of the vehicle.
    Keep going.
    A puff of snow blew from the roof of the car, temporarily blinding her. She battled the whipping white flakes with her sleeves. When her vision finally cleared, she crept to the front of the car, then leaned forward past the hood.
    Rob's body was gone.  
    All that remained was a puddle of his blood in the snow.

    Abby spun in a circle, hoping to discern her husband's whereabouts. She saw several tracks in the snow, but most of them were caved and filled in, and it was impossible to tell which direction they were going. Some were going up the Pierces' driveway; some were going up the street. To make matters worse, there were also the tracks they'd made around the vehicle. The snow was coming down harder than ever, obscuring her vision. It was as if the storm had taken her husband and was intent on covering its tracks behind it.
    But Rob had landed here. She knew it. She wasn't crazy.
    The proof was in the snow—bright splashes of blood that colored the white powder red. She looked back at the windshield and traced the cracked pane with her eyes. Rob was out here, and he needed help.
    She needed to call the police. She needed to get to the landline.
    Abby ran for the house. Her throat felt tight, as if someone was restricting her windpipe, and she struggled to breathe. Though she was terrified, she knew she needed to focus. In order to help Rob—to save him—she'd need to pull it together. Every second he was missing could mean the difference between life and death. The neighbor was out there somewhere, and so was her husband.  
    Rob's probably dead right now.  
    Stop it. Don't think that way.
    The snow slid into her boots, creeping around her socks and skin, and the wind whipped at her cheeks. She ran faster, certain that hands would appear and grab her, but she continued unimpeded.  
    She was almost at the front door when she heard a muffled cry from