CHAPTER SEVENTEENWalter Scoggins bored right in. “What was it like? How did it happen?” Camcorder on shoulder, directional mike pointing like a foam-covered projectile. “What time of night? What was the weather like? How did the fire start? Did anyone come to your aid?”
Anthony Roland waved a hand. “Take it easy, Walter. You’re not on Eye-Witness News. Give Mr. MacReedy a chance.”
But the old man merely nodded. He leaned over the desk, studying the pictures. If this were only a Twilight Zone episode, Lindsey thought, the old man would dissolve into that scene of 1934. He would be a young man again. He would be with his bride again.
And we would be sitting here in this stuffy office, looking at the pictures, and there he would be, looking back at us.
But we are not in the Twilight Zone.
