Dread wrapped Myron's chest in tight steel bands. He slowly reached out and tentatively touched the puffy part with just a knuckle. It felt claylike. Carefully, Myron slit the seal open. He tumed the envelope upside down and let the contents fall to the car seat. The severed finger bounced once and then settled onto the leather. Chapter 18 Myron stared, unable to speak. Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod . . . Raw terror engulfed him. He started shivering, and his body went numb. He looked down at the note in his hand. A voice inside his head said, Your fault, Myron. Your fault. He tumed to Linda Coldren. Her hand fluttered near her mouth, her eyes wide. Myron tried to step toward her, but he staggered like a boxer who didn't take advantage of a standing eight count. "We have to call someone," he managed, his voice sounding distant even to him. "The FBI. I have friends- " ` "No." Her tone was strong. ~ "Linda, listen to me .... " "Read the note," she said. "But " "Read the note," she repeated.
