The telephone in faraway Indiana rang, first in their agreed sequence, then twenty times before Dean gave up and turned out the light. The time would be near sunrise later in the year, but now the night and his world was as dark as midnight.
In spite of all that had transpired, Dean couldn't think. He slept, fitfully, though this time he remembered no dreams. Suddenly, a loud sound from above awakened him with a start. He lay there, trying to comprehend if the noise were in his mind's fantasies or in the real world of Bird Song. And then he recalled an earlier dream!
Dean leaped from his bed and charged up the stairs to Edith Shipton's room!
His heart raced as he began to sense what he would find. Her door was ajar and the chill from an open window washed over him as he approached, somehow knowing what lay beyond. He pushed the door further but hesitated entering, as if remaining outside would absolve him of responsibility from what lay beyond. The pale glow of the moon shone through the uncurtained window, casting an elongated shadow from the overturned chair.
She turned slowly, propelled by a tender breeze from the cold night air that filled the room. Her long blonde hair, unfastened, cascaded about her shoulders. She had once again donned the white dress, and the hem touched the tops of her bare feet. Her hands were by her side, turned out, tranquilly, as if to say, peace at last. She had tied the silk cord to the brass gas lamp at the ceiling in the center of the room, before knotting the other end about her soft white neck. He could picture her climbing onto the velvet chair, perhaps even smiling, before kicking it away, and waiting the few agonizing moments until death set her free. For seconds he was frozen to move toward her, knowing in his heart it was too late. You couldn't be a cop for fourteen years and not look death in the face and recognize its gruesome glare. Too late for anything. As he watched, spellbound, she slowly revolved toward him, but he closed his eyes lest he see her face. But he was too late for even that.
Two crumpled dollar bills lay on the bed.