The search goes on.

Vicksburg. I'm walking down a city street. I find my way to a new mall area and descend a flight of steps inside that take me to a lower level. The steps are small and wooden, each one rickety and difficult to walk on--despite the relatively new mall. I come to the lower floor and go into a shop, which is the Attic Gallery. There I find Daniel, who I knew when I lived in Vicksburg. There are several people behind a counter waiting on people who need artwork framed. Daniel tells me that I've come at a bad time, because he and his wife Leslie have just divorced. I leave the area but cannot now find the steps, and I'm forced to clamber out of the lower level through a window. Potted plants partially block my way.

I return home (my home in Athens) and it is night. As I pull up to our long driveway I see that there is a police car parked by the mailbox. Its blue lights are on and flashing. I drive past it and go down the driveway. The house, when I enter, is lit up but no one seems home. I look around for Sandy. In the kitchen, which is very brightly lit, I discover that the back door is open and that the dining table is missing. Cold air is pouring in through the open door, which I close.

I enter the bathroom and first see what I think to be Sandy sitting on the closed toilet. I'm shocked, because her head seems to be missing. But it's not her, or anyone. Instead, it is her clothes stuffed with something so that they vaguely resemble a scarecrow. Up close it's clear that the job has been done casually, and no once could mistake the thing for a real person. I glance over at the bathtub and see Sandy under the water in the tub. I'm struck with fear because she looks dead, but I see a small bubble of air escape her mouth. I reach into the bath and pull her up out of the water by her shoulder. Once out, she stands and peers around with an expression both dazed and haughty. She seems not like herself. I wake gasping and shaking.