The entire vision—from the ponytailed imp with peppermint breath to the toy rabbit lying on rain-puddled pavement in the grip of a hand without its girl—surely must be a premonition of terror oncoming. Whether it is a chain-reaction traffic accident involving many vehicles or something else, he can’t imagine how it can evolve from—or have a connection to—Danny Doyle. It must be an event that will occur a week from now, or in a month, a year.
