Page 76 of The Fire Line

Four nights.

Harris took Red’s reins while Jay hit the ground.

He had spent three days knowing exactly where Jay was—behind him on the trail, across the table, in the other bunk. Apparently that had been enough time for four nights to sound like a long time.

“I need ten minutes to shower,” Jay was saying.

Priya looked him over. “Take fifteen. You smell like livestock.”

“Professional cruelty.”

She was already turning away. “Hurry up, Jay.”

Jay looked at Harris over Red’s neck. “Thanks for not letting me die.”

“Was close.”

“My riding that bad?”

“Worse.”

The corner of Jay’s mouth moved.

Priya shouted his name from halfway across the yard.

“Coming!”

Jay started toward the lodge, then looked back. “See you in a few days?”

Harris met his eyes. “I’ll be here.”

Something in Jay’s expression softened. “Good.”

Twenty minutes later, the SUV pulled away. Harris happened to be near the barn when it did.

Jay sat in the passenger seat with his hair still damp, turned partly toward Eli. At the bend, he looked back. Their eyes met through the open window, and then the SUV passed beyond the cottonwoods.

Something happened somewhere else, and Jay went toward it.

That was basically the gist of his job.

The ranch did not become empty after he left. Guests crossed the porch until after dark. Somebody dropped a metal pan in the lodge kitchen. Willa and June conducted a screaming property dispute over a plastic horse. Evan caught Harris outside the barn and kept him there twenty minutes discussing the north-boundary fence. At dinner, Walt asked about the homestead roof while Della ignored Harris’s refusal and put another helping of potatoes on his plate.

Everything was where it belonged.

Jay simply was not among it.

Harris noticed the difference often enough to become irritated by the fact.

By ten, he had showered, opened a beer, smoked half a cigarette on the porch, and run out of anything useful to do. He felt too restless to read.

His laptop sat on the kitchen table where he had left it, and a quick search confirmed that Nell’s emails were still there. Not for some sentimental reason, but because Harris never deleted anything. Somewhere in his inbox were appointment confirmations from a dentist he had stopped seeing seven years ago and a shipping notice for boots he no longer owned.

The message he was looking for appeared near the top of the search history.

SUBJECT: WATCH THIS BEFORE YOU SAY NO

HARRIS. This guy’s GOOD.