Megan scans the short blog post on the prostitute killing, then closes the web browser. “They thought they did. They also thought the legs looked like Sandy’s.”
“Your brother? That can’t be, could it?”
Megan shakes her head. “Mom called me on her cell phone, just frantic. They were both screaming that they thought they had hit a deer but killed Sandy instead. I told them they were crazy, that Sandy’s been dead for years, but she kept screaming, ‘He’s right here! He’s right here! We hit him!’ Then the phone went dead.”