Lost Daughters
Three young women in black party dresses stood by the side of the “suicide bridge” and looked into the darkness over the guardrail. Drew dropped his Audi to a crawl as he passed them then stopped, put it in park, and watched the women in his rearview mirror. His tail lights gilded them electric red. It was well after midnight and there were no other vehicles or pedestrians around, but the girls paid him no attention.
He opened the door, stepped halfway out of the car, and called against a chill wind, “You ladies okay?”
The three turned together and looked at him.
Black streaks of makeup ruined by tears lined their cheeks. Their dark hair was mussed and wild and their stylish dresses torn ragged along the hems and spotted with dry leaves and flecks of mud. They were baref
