Salem Falls [antikvár]

March 2000 North Haverhill\ New Hampshire Several miles into his journey. Jack St. Bride decided to give up his former life. He made this choice as he walked aimlessly along Route 10, huddling against the cold. He had dressed this morning in a pair of khaki pants, a white shirt with a nick in the collar, stiff dress shoes, a smooth-skinned belt — clothing he'd last worn 5,760 hours ago, clothing that had fit him last August. This morning," his blue blazer was oversized and the waistband of his trousers hung loose. It had taken Jack a moment to realize it wasn't weight he'd lost during these eight months but pride. He wished he had a winter coat, but you wore out of jail the same outfit you'd worn in. What he did have was the forty-three dollars that had been in his wallet on the hot afternoon he was incarcerated, a ring of keys that opened doors to places where Jack no longer was welcome, and a piece of gum. Other inmates who were released from jail had family to pick them up. Or they arranged for transportation. But Jack had no one waiting for him, and he hadn't thought about getting a ride. When the door closed behind him, a jaw being snapped shut, he had simply started walking. The snow seeped into his dress shoes, and passing trucks splattered his trousers with slush and mud. A taxi pulled onto the side of the road and the driver unrolled the window, but Jack kept struggling forward, certain that the cab had stopped for someone else. 'Car trouble?' the driver called out. Jack looked, but there was no one behind him. 'Just walking.'