I asked to see the policy before we drove into the park.

He said he would show me at home.

He started the engine.

I got in.

He turned onto the road leading toward Rocky Mountain National Park without answering.

On the cliff, after the fall, after the words about fifty million dollars, after Ashley asked if I was dead and Michael said I had better be, the helicopter came.

The silver-haired man who knew my name was Robert Hale.

He was the man in the photograph my mother had kept.