 Recorded Books presents a Rio Audio production of Within the Shadows by Brandon Massey. This unabridged recording is narrated by Dion Graham and directed by Drew Sussman. This book is copyrighted 2005 by Brandon Massey. This recording is copyrighted 2006 by Recorded Books, producer and publisher of Rio Audio. At just 31, Andrew Wilson has it all. Close friends, a great house in suburban Atlanta, and a successful career as a mystery writer. Only one thing is missing, a special woman to share it with. But as Andrew will find out, it often pays to be careful what you wish for. And now, Within the Shadows. At half past seven o'clock on the evening of May 15th, Andrew Wilson was riding back to Atlanta with his father, only a few minutes away from the accident that would change his life forever. Immersed in thought, Andrew gazed out the passenger side window of the Ford Expedition. A thunderstorm was brewing. Like an advancing army, a front of dark clouds chased away the sunlight. Gusts scurled around the truck and flung dead leaves across the windshield. Far in the distance, lightning slashed the horizon. Sighing, Andrew turned away from the window and glanced at his father behind the steering wheel. Looks like a storm's coming. Andrew said, stating the obvious. Sure is, Dad said. We'll have to cut right through it. Thunder grumbled, a sound that echoed in Andrew's bones. Pondering something else to say, and hesitant to speak the thoughts that weighed on his mind, Andrew studied his father. Almost six feet tall, Raymond West was lean and muscular, with big hands that could palm a basketball as easily as a cantaloupe. He had a cinnamon complexion, laugh lines delicately drawn into his youthful face. His salt-and-pepper hair was trimmed short. His goatee was so meticulously cut, it might have been sketched with a fine pencil. Dapper, as always, his father wore a tan polo shirt, khakis, and a Kangol golf hat. A sleek Movado watch glimmered on one sinewy wrist, a gold bracelet sparkled on the other. Whenever Andrew looked at his father, he had the impression of viewing himself twenty years older. Sensing his scrutiny, Dad turned. His deep brown eyes were curious. Something on your mind, son? Just wanted to say that I had fun this weekend. A knot formed in his throat. For a moment, he was unable to say another word, and he had left much unsaid. He wasn't accustomed to sharing positive comments with his dad about their relationship. They drove on Interstate 16, heading back to Atlanta after spending a day and a half in Savannah. They'd arrived on the coast late Friday afternoon, had dinner at a seafood restaurant, and rose the next morning for a seven o'clock tea time. After playing 18 holes, they hung out at the clubhouse, ate an early dinner, napped at the hotel, and hit the road to return home. It was the longest duration of time that Andrew had spent with his father in 19 years. The experience left him with a lot that he wanted to say, but he lacked the words to adequately express himself. It frustrated him. He was a writer. He'd published three suspense novels to growing a claim, had ditched his computer programmer job to write full time, and had never looked back. He earned his living with words, but right then he felt no more articulate than a newborn baby. A pitchfork of lightning stabbed the earth, followed by a burst of thunder. Wind rattled the elms and maples that flanked the highway. We had a good time, Dad grinned. I'm not such a bad guy to hang with, am I? Andrew cleared his throat, breaking up the lump there. You're all right for an old man. Oh, man, huh? This old man spanked you out there. You got some lucky shots. Come on, man, you had two eagles. That was a once-in-a-lifetime game. All in the days worked for a scratch player like me, young buck. Dad smiled. Wanna bet it happens next time? Aw, man, you know? Thought so, Andrew said. Dad laughed. So did Andrew. They'd done a lot of laughing together on this trip, and it felt good.