I don’t know how stories are supposed to end. We are in the midst of our lives, when life seems to drift on without us, fading away into the future. Nothing ends. Things dissolve into a new story, someone else’s story. What happened to Mackenzie Philips and his crazy death lock with God? Was Tom O’Malley able to nurture his tortured soul? And what about Frank and Monique? And Greg Tower? And the widow Henderson? And the killer watching from the shadows on the fringe of these stories? All these tales tightly intertwined for a brief spell only to loosen and unravel. Into what? God, I wish they all could have found some peace.