1:32 p.m. General Hospital, La Crosse
Maggie sat by a hospital bed, concentrating on the rise and fall of the sheets.
A nurse tapped her shoulder. “Rachel’s asking for you.”
Maggie didn’t respond.
“There’s nothing you can do here,” said the nurse. “He could be in a coma for days, maybe weeks. Your daughter needs you.”
Maggie sighed. “My daughter’s dead.”
She reached for John’s unresponsive hand.
2:22 p.m. Somewhere, Costa Rica
In a tiny Costa Rican village, a small boy kicked a soccer ball.
A woman’s voice called, “Peter!”
He turned. For a second, his dark eyes and hair flashed in the sun.
