She drives away, of all things, in a minivan, about the last vehicle I’d ever expect to see Vicky Townsend driving. But she has a different life now, different priorities.

I stand where I am for a while, waiting for the heaviness in my chest to subside, choking back emotion, until hypothermia becomes a real possibility. I finally manage to smile.

What does the word “pithy” mean, anyway?

I thought it meant clever, but turns out, from a quick search on my phone, it’s defined in two ways. One: “consisting of or abounding in pith,” which is a big help. Two: “concise and forcefully expressive.” Nothing about being witty or humorous or sardonic? If I were mad and said, “Shit!” that would be concise and forcefully expressive. So that would qualify as a pithy comment?

That doesn’t seem right. Not at all. I might need to add “pithy” to my list. This is going to require extensive thought . . .

Acknowledgments

Thank you to my early readers: my agent, Susanna Einstein, and my friend and first editor, Sara Minnich Blackburn, for your patience and encouragement and insights and devotion to the story. This novel would not have been the same without you.

A special thanks to my new friend and editor, Danielle Dieterich, for not missing a beat, for “getting” the novel and its oddball author from the get-go, and for final touches that (hopefully) made this novel shine. Looking forward to many more with you!

And most of all to my wonderful wife, Susan Nystrom Ellis, who knows me better than I know myself, for listening when I whine and for your brilliant insights into matters large and small in this novel. This novel never would have happened without you, lady. I love you.

About the Author

David Ellis is a judge and an Edgar-award-winning author of ten novels of crime fiction, as well as eight books co-authored with James Patterson. In December, 2014, Dave was sworn in as the youngest-serving Justice of the Illinois Appellate Court for the First District. Ellis lives outside Chicago with his wife and three children.