The first time she saw a dead body, Kate was crossing the bridge into Wenatchee. The man lay on the steep bank, face down, naked, his skin a startling white in the yellow dust. An ambulance was parked on the shoulder, and the attendants leaned against it, smoking. Kate could hear loud hard-rock music coming from the car radio of a couple who, like her, had slowed down for a look. She wondered who that man was and why he was naked. It seemed symbolic, somehow, as if he had just been reborn and would, at any moment, lift his head, put on his clothes and begin a new life.  Read more . . .