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"Good folk can't leave the Emerald Isle, don't you know?"
Owen turned to Cat for confirmation. She nodded her head. Her neon green eyes were still sparkling, but most of the color from the rest of her face was gone.
"I don't want to live without you, Cat. I'll stay here with you. I'll come back on the next flight."
Cat shook her head. "Impossible. You're already claimed by the dead. I was trying to prevent the inevitable. I should have known better."
She tried to kiss him again, and he tried to embrace her but it was like trying to hug cigarette smoke.
"Goodby, my darling. I love you, Owen Collins."
Cat speaking his name hit him like a cannonball. And she was gone.
Owen jumped up to search the plane, but it was empty. He was the only one on board. Not even Liam and Neal were in their seats any longer. He crumpled into his first class seat, and pushed the emergency button.
Nothing happened.
The plane landed at O'Hare International Airport near Chicago. When the gateway was opened, the agents found only one body on board. Owen Collins, attorney, age thirty-five, with tear stains on his cheeks and his name written in cursive on a tattered, torn page in his hands.
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