He looked at the motel office, thought of the little room where the tiny woman had sat for God only knew how many years. From poodle skirts, big hair, and probably dreams beyond Drake, West Virginia, to death by worn-out body six decades later. He had met the woman all of two times, didn’t even know her last name. But for some reason he didn’t think he would ever forget Louisa, if only because he had failed to save her. He hoped he’d have better luck saving the rest of the people who lived in Drake.
