I went to the window to watch her leave. Wiping the steam from the pane with the palm of my hand, I saw her black figure walking unsteadily behind her flashlight beam.

She crossed the patio and ambled toward a grove of oak trees. Suddenly, from the distance, a sign of light appeared in her direction. It was another flashlight blinking on and off. Beatrice followed the brightness, drawn to it like a moth. And I felt a shiver run up my spine.