Free Never Look Away by Linwood Barclay

Keeping me company on my way to an interview.
    I'd brought along my pen and notepad and digital recorder. If possible, I wanted to get this woman's revelations on tape--okay, it's not really tape anymore, but I'd yet to find another way to say this that didn't sound funny. But I had my doubts she'd want to have her voice recorded.
    I had the recorder tucked into my pocket just in case.
    "Not bad traffic," I said as we headed up the interstate.
    Jan turned slightly sideways in her seat, not an easy thing to do in the Jetta. She alternated looking at me, the scenery, the road behind us.
    "There's something I should tell you," she said.
    I suddenly got that feeling again, the one I'd had in the restaurant. "What?" I said.
    "Something ... I did," she said.
    "What did you do?"
    "Actually, it's more like something I didn't do," she said, looking out the rear window, then back out the front.
    "Jan, tell me what's going on," I said.
    "You know that day we took a drive in the country?"
    I shook my head. "We do that a lot."
    "I can't even remember the name of the road, but it's a place I can find, you know? Like, make a right turn at the white house, keep on going until you go past the red barn, that kind of thing?"
    "You've always been able to find your way around," I said. "You just don't have much of a memory for street names or road numbers."
    "That's right," she said. "So I don't know if I can even tell you where I was, I mean, the road or anything. But you know that back road, it's well paved but it's out in the country and it doesn't get a lot of traffic? On the way to the garden center?"
    That narrowed it down a bit.
    "And you come up to this bridge? You know where the road narrows a bit to go over it, and even though there's still a line down the middle, if there's a truck coming the other way you slow down and let it go through first?"
    Now I knew exactly where she was talking about.
    "And it goes over the river there, and the water's moving really fast over the rocks?"
    I nodded.
    Jan glanced out the back window again, then looked at me. "So I drove up there the other day, parked the car, and I walked out to the middle of the bridge."
    I don't want to hear this .
    "I stood there for the longest time," Jan said. "I thought about what it would be like to jump, wondered if a person could survive a fall like that. It's not all that far, but the rocks, they're pretty jagged down there. And then I thought, if I'm going to jump off a bridge, I should just use the one that goes over Promise Falls. Remember you told me that story, about the student who did that a few years ago?"
    "Jan," I said.
    "I stood up on the railing--it's made of concrete and it's quite wide. I stood there for a good thirty seconds, I'm guessing, and then climbed back down."
    I swallowed. My mouth was very dry. "Why?" I asked. "What made you not do it?"
    Because she loves us. Because she couldn't imagine leaving Ethan and me behind .
    She smiled. "There was a car coming. A farmer's truck, actually. I didn't want to do it in front of anyone, and by the time I was back down, the moment had passed."
    I have to take her to a hospital. I need to turn around and drive her to a hospital and have her checked in. That's what I need to do .
    "Well," I said, trying to conceal my alarm, "it's a good thing that truck came along."
    "Yeah," she said, and smiled, like what she'd told me was no big deal. Just something she'd thought about, and then the moment had passed.
    I asked, "What did the doctor say when you told him about this?"
    "Oh, this happened since I saw him," she said offhandedly. She reached out and touched my arm. "But you don't have to worry. I feel good today. And I feel good about tomorrow, about going to Five Mountains."
    That was supposed to be reassuring? So what if she felt good right now? What about an hour from now? What about tomorrow?
    "There's something else," Jan said.
    I gave her a look that said, "What?"
    "It might be my imagination," she said,