After examining it for evidence, the cops had towed it to his parking lot and plunked it down in the exact spot he’d always parked in, practically outside his patio. What the police expected to find in a car washed to the bottom of the Long Island Sound, he didn’t know, but they seemed to run in small circles with very little knowledge of why they were doing the things they did. Flynn kept hearing Danny’s voice in his head, telling him not to give up on the car. He would start to answer aloud and stop himself in time. Of course he planned on repairing the Charger. It would take as much money as time, but he had no choice. Both he and his brother had died in it. He’d blow his savings to get it back up and running. The car had some kind of mystical resonance now. It connected him to himself more than ever. The car was packed full of ghosts, including his own. He awoke in the middle of the night to find his mother standing over his bed, staring down with a brittle expression. It happened three nights in a row.
