The mountain road had been repaved since the night of the crash, though the fresh black asphalt still stood out sharply against the cracked gray concrete of the older sections.

A heavy steel guardrail now ran along the sharpest curve of the bend, shielding drivers from the steep drop down to a rocky stream hidden by thick underbrush.

I pulled onto the gravel shoulder, turned off the engine, and stepped out into the crisp mountain air.

The air smelled strongly of damp earth and pine needles, and the sound of rushing water echoed faintly from deep in the ravine.

I checked the printed map I had pulled from my desk before leaving the house.