The deep, gruff voice of a man flowed out of the speaker, “…that’s all for sports this morning. Traffic and weather after the break, but first this tragic story. A well-loved, local businessman is dead this morning, the only victim of a horrific one-vehicle accident that occurred last night. John Milton Johnson was found crushed to death, his over-turned truck in a ditch that runs alongside the road between Burnsville and Hartford. It is believed that while driving home after a visit to Burnsville, Mr. Johnson apparenetly fell asleep, causing him to drive off the road, overturning and landing partially submerged in the muddy ditch. This is Reaper Rick at X-KIL, 102.3 on your dial, and now a brief word from our sponsors…”

Startled by hearing this news, Susan eased herself down onto the floor in shock. After a few moments, she looked up at her husband where he stood frozen, staring down at her. “No,” she whispered. “It can’t be the same John. It just can’t be.”

Kneeling beside her, Justin placed his hands on her shoulders and said, “Susan, baby, yesterday while we were talking, I commented on his name and John told me he was the only John Milton Johnson in the area.” Cupping her chin in one hand, he lifted her face so he could look into her eyes. “It was John, and he’s dead.”

Shrugging out of his grasp, Susan stood and began pacing the room, her movements jerky and the pitch of her voice rising as she spoke. “It’s our fault he’s dead. If we hadn’t contacted John, he would still be alive! We caused his death! We Killed Him!”

Grabbing her tightly by the upper arms, Justin gave her a little shake to break her mildly hysterical rant. “Susan, snap out of it! We’re not responsible; he had an accident! That’s all—an accident, nothing more!”

She stared at him a moment, then said, “My God, Justin, that’s what Archibald was trying to tell us last night.” He looked at her blankly, so Susan continued. “He was letting us know that he can reach us—reach any of us, anytime he wants to, and we are helpless to stop him.”

Tears began rolling down her cheeks and brushing the moisture off one cheek, then the other with the back of her hand, she whispered, her voice cracked and husky with emotion, “Sorry, Justin. I don’t know what came over me.” She leaned into the curve of his shoulder and continued, her words slightly muffled by his chest as she said, “I didn’t even realize John had made that much of an impression on me.”

Wrapping his arms around her back, Justin angled his head slightly and rested his cheek on the top of Susan’s head. Taking a deep breath, his senses were filled with the fragrance of her shampoo and the subtle underlying scent that was uniquely her own. Drawing on the comfort of her familiar aroma, he tried not to think about how close he had come to losing her, on more than one occasion, and tried not to wonder about what was still to come.

After holding her for a few minutes, Justin leaned back so he could look at his wife and asked, “Feel okay?”

“Better,” she replied, keeping her eyes focused downward. “But I still feel a little guilty.”

“About?” he prompted, lifting her chin so he could see her face, when she didn’t say anything else.