Still Life Read Free Page A

total screwup. Four years after Casey graduated college, her parents were killed when their private jet crashed into Chesapeake Bay during inclement weather, officially making her sister a total screwup.
    It was these thoughts that were absorbing Casey’s attention as she walked along South Street, Philadelphia’s answer to Greenwich Village, with its collection of pungent smells, seedy tattoo parlors, funky leather shops, and avant-garde galleries. Truly a world unto itself, she was thinking as she crossed into South Philly and headed toward the large indoor parking garage on Washington Avenue. That was the problem with having lunch in this area—it was almost impossible to find a place to park, and once you got away from South Street, the dividing line between Center City and South Philadelphia, you were pretty much in Rocky territory.
    Casey entered the parking garage and took the elevator up to the fifth floor, retrieving her car keys from her oversize black leather bag as she walked toward her white Lexus sports car at the far end of the platform. She heard the gunning of an engine in the distance and looked over her shoulder, but she saw nothing. Aside from the rows of multicolored automobiles, the place was deserted.
    She didn’t hear the car until it was almost on top of her. She was approaching her Lexus, right arm extended, thumb on the button of the remote to unlock the driver’s door, when a silver-colored SUV came careening around the corner toward her. She didn’t have time to register the driver’s face, to ascertain whether a man or woman was behind the wheel. She had no time to get out of the way. One minute she was walking toward her car, the next she was being propelled through the air, her arms and legs shooting into four different directions at once. Seconds later, she came crashing down, a limp repository of broken bones, her head slamming against the hard pavement.
    Shortly after that, the SUV disappeared into the streets of South Philadelphia, and Casey Marshall slipped into oblivion.

TWO
    S he opened her eyes to darkness.
    And not just ordinary darkness, Casey thought, straining to catch even a glimmer of light. It was the blackest black she’d ever seen, a wall of impenetrable density she couldn’t see over or around, affording not even a hint of shading or shadow. As if she’d fallen into a deep underground cave. As if she’d accidentally stumbled into the black hole of the universe.
    Where was she? Why was it so dark?
    “Hello? Is anybody there?”
    Was she alone? Could anybody hear her?
    There was no answer. Casey felt a tiny bubble of panic materialize inside her chest and tried to control its growth with a series of measured, deep breaths. There had to be a logical explanation, she assured herself, refusing to give in to her fear, knowing that if she did, it would expand until there was no room for anything else, and then the now monstrous bubble would burst, spreading its poison through out her veins and circulating to every part of her body.
    “Hello? Can anybody hear me?”
    She opened her eyes wider, then squinted, hearing Janine’s reprimand in the back of her head, reminding her that squinting causes wrinkles. “Janine,” Casey whispered, vaguely recalling their lunch together…. When? How long ago?
    Not long, Casey decided. Hadn’t she just left her? Yes, that was right. She’d had lunch with Janine and Gail on South Street—she’d had a delicious warm chicken and papaya salad and a glass of pinot grigio—and then headed over to Washington Street to retrieve her car. And then what?
    And then … nothing.
    Casey pictured herself walking up the sloping concrete of the old parking garage toward her car, heard the heels of her black Ferragamo pumps clicking along the uneven pavement, and then another sound, a rumble, like distant thunder. Coming closer. What was it? Why couldn’t she remember?
    What was happening?
    It was at that precise moment Casey realized she