Last Track, The by Sam Hilliard Page B

character.”
    “Hearing declines with age,” Crotty said. “Like your logic.”
    “Whatever is to be done, it needs to happen quickly,” said the Partner. “The sooner the search ends, the better.”
    Crotty said, “Let’s just get to the heart of this. You’re less worried about what Mike Brody is looking for than what else he might find.”
    A long pause, then a concession from the Partner. “Maybe.”
    Satisfied with the exposed bluff, Crotty continued. “Stop worrying. I’ll take care of it.”
    “How exactly are you going to handle this?”
    “The fastest way to anyone is through the people they love.”
    “Wait a second. What are you going to do?” the Partner asked.
    “You mean, we .”
    12:27:55 PM
    Andy’s rapid progress in the riding pen delighted Jessica. The boy, while not a natural, needed far less instruction than the other guests. Mr. Jones was more horse than Andy could handle, but he grasped the basics. She was proud of her son’s ease.
    What satisfied Jessica most was that Andy got this trait from her. Mike could not claim it came from him. Watching Andy in the saddle, feet hooked through the stirrups, hands clutching the reins, she saw herself. This was an unusual experience; she welcomed it. One way or another, Jessica had committed herself to learning a little more about Andy on this trip. To Jessica, these were the sort of moments that were only possible on vacation. If Mr. Mike Brody passed on the opportunity, well then that was his loss.
    Lunch was homemade chili around the fire pit, just as the Pine Woods brochure outlined. Sizing up the crowd at breakfast, the chef, Chappy, had estimated the number of people who wanted seconds and prepared exactly the right amount for lunch. A biker with a grayed-out ponytail and tattoos peeking past the ends of a long-sleeve shirt—Chappy was a model of food-service efficiency.
    The woman ahead of Jessica asked Chappy, “Is this vegetarian?”
    Chappy heaped a massive glob into her wooden bowl and said “There’s vegetables in it, sure, uh-huh.”
    Douglas fir pines cast long shadows over the group as they sat cross-legged in a circle; the shade cooled them. Many leaned against the tree trunks for support. The scent of chili powder and leather polish filled the air. The food was delicious, the blend of herbs and spices warm and rich. Serving the last wrangler, Chappy dropped the cast-iron lid into place, snuffed the fire by kicking dirt over the embers, and left.
    Erich appeared halfway through the meal. “How’s everyone doing?” Bringing his hands together, palms clasped tightly for punctuation. A dramatic gesture from an engaging man.
    The crowd concurred that everything was going well. Erich stood at the edge of the circle, closest to Jessica. At least that was how it seemed. She decided his proximity was coincidental, that it meant nothing. Erich just needed a place to stand, she told herself. Yet the glare of his charm was infectious, almost addictive, as was his effect on an audience when he spoke.
    “Remember this is just the beginning,” Erich said. “Now that everyone has a feel for riding, tomorrow is a half-day excursion. We’ll take you down to the base of the lake. We might see a bit of rain, so please bring a jacket with a hood or a hat. Afterward you’ll learn a little bit about tending cattle. And don’t forget the bonfire tonight!”
    Jessica had a question, and hesitated. Her own recalcitrance was surprising. For the third time today, she wondered what was wrong with her.
    Killing time between activities, she went back to her room to wash her face and make some phone calls. On the way she got Mike’s voice mail and had some ideas for Lisbeth, how she might help the search. Jessica had a lot of contacts and it sounded like they were needed.
    Heading toward the room with Andy, she saw a woman with twins in the hallway. Jessica had noticed them at meals, but had not yet been introduced—only caught a mention that the