A grave could be visited. Ashes could be scattered. But vanishing? That ripped a hole in the world the size of a life, and through that hole sighed a terrible wind repeating a single note:
Gone.
For years, Aggie had forgotten the real Joanne, the way her sister had laughed, fought, been.
But now that the videotape made her real again-no matter how many times the recording changed, no matter how terrifying the flickering images-it was all Aggie wanted. To trade the Gone for the One. She owed Joanne that much. To say she was sorry. That it had been her fault.
It had been all their faults.