gasps. “Goin’ cold. Real fucking cold, man.” “Charles, is there anyone in Miami I should call?” “Too late, man . . .” “What d’you mean?” “She’s gone. Wife and my boy aren’t moving . . . Blood everywhere, man.” He began to sob. Reznick’s mind flashed up terrible images. “Cold. So goddamn cold, Jon. Can’t feel anything, man.” “You will not fucking die on me, you hear? You will not fucking die on me!”
