Because he knew me. And I must know how he knew me. And none of it makes sense.
There was a small book in the breast pocket of the coat and Sutton slipped it out. The title was in gold on black leather, and even in the moonlight Sutton could read the letters that flamed, from the cover to hit him straight between the eyes.
THIS IS DESTINY By Asher Sutton
Sutton did not move.
He crouched there on the ground, like a cowering thing, stricken by the golden letters on the leather cover.
A book!
A book he meant to write, but hadn't written yet!
A book he wouldn't write for many months to come!
And yet here it was, dog-eared and limp from reading.
An involuntary choking sound rose unbidden in his throat.