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Prologue

The icy drip of water on his forehead must have been what revived him. He shook his head and, ignoring the pain that stabbed at his temples, opened his eyes. He was shrouded in darkness and wasn't sure for a moment whether he'd actually opened his eyes or not. But soon he began to make out vague, hazy shapes in the darkness. Grunting, he struggled against an unknown restraint. He groped around, trying to find out what was holding him in place.

A seatbelt. The discovery did little to lessen his confusion. He had no clue where he was or how he'd gotten there. As he continued to struggle, his world suddenly spun, and he felt his stomach lurch as he realized everything around him was upside down. The screech of metal as it twisted and bent was deafening. The scream that erupted from his throat was lost in the cacophony of noise that assaulted his ears as his world pitched and spun again. The seatbelt that he'd cursed moments ago became his savior as the car shifted and began to tumble end over end.

It seemed like the car rolled forever. Time and space had no meaning as he flopped around the interior like a rag doll. Finally it did come to a rest, though, and the shrieking and groaning gave way to a few creaks and shudders before all was silent again. The only thing he had the strength to do was to try and turn his head to the side as he emptied the contents of his stomach before groaning and closing his eyes again.

He must have lost consciousness for a while because when he opened his eyes again there was light coming through the shattered windshield. He was afraid to move after what had happened the last time, but he also recognized that he couldn't stay where he was.

With a deep breath and a grunt, he pushed the seatbelt release button and cried out in pain as his body was freed and he collapsed in a heap. Struggling to sit up, he began to gain his bearings. The car had tumbled and landed on the driver's side and was surrounded by leafy foliage. A large branch had lodged itself through the windshield, narrowly missing him, he noted thankfully, and was protruding well into the backseat.

Somehow he managed to find his cell phone. It had ended up on the floor, which was now on his right side, wedged in the center console. He scooped it up before carefully pushing his way up through the windshield, holding the branch to one side. Slowly he clamored up and out of the vehicle and stumbled unsteadily away from the car. His head spun, and he grabbed onto the trunk of a nearby tree to steady himself before pushing the button that he hoped would bring his phone to life. He said a quick, silent prayer as he waited for the phone to respond. He had no idea where he was and could only hope that he would have service.

Relief surged through him as the phone lit up, and he dialed the three digits with shaky fingers. He felt a second wave of relief when the emergency operator answered.

"Hello, I need help. I've been in an accident," he cried in response to the operator's greeting. His voice was hoarse from disuse and fear.

"All right, where are you, sir?" The woman's professional voice was calm and reassuring.

"I—I'm not sure." He looked around, trying to find something that would jog his memory. He took a few steps back toward the vehicle.

"Okay, sir. Are you calling from a cellular phone?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered, scanning the vehicle. This was his car; that much he knew. He recognized the few shiny parts of his Lexus that hadn't been mangled when it had tumbled off the road. But everything else seemed like a mystery. Something elusive tugged at his consciousness but was gone almost before he realized it.

"We'll be able to use your phone's GPS feature to locate you, sir; one moment. Are you injured?"

He shook his head and immediately felt nauseated. "Um, I don't think so." He waited, leaning his forehead against the rough bark of a tree, the action somehow soothing. A moment later, his head shot up. What was that? Had he really heard what he thought he had? He froze, holding the phone away from his ear so he could concentrate. A moment later he heard it again. It was faint, but he was sure now. The operator's voice came through the phone still clutched in his hand, small and tinny, but he paid it no mind at the moment.

He raced around to the other side of the car. His heart dropped when he reached the passenger side. He'd failed to notice before; the tree branch had blocked his view.

In one sickening moment, the entire evening came back to him. He fought the urge to vomit again as he peered through the jagged opening that was once his passenger side window.

"Edward, help me," she whispered, opening one eye and reaching toward him through the shattered glass.

Trembling, he brought the phone to his ear again. "Hurry please! We need help. Now!" he cried, his voice breaking on the last word.