into Sheridan’s room. It was different, and it took him a moment to figure out what had changed.
“Where are your falconry posters?” he asked her. Over the past three years, Sheridan had filled a wall with depictions of falcons and hawks of North America, as well as National Geographic wildlife shots of falcons in flight and going for a kill. They had been replaced by photos of rodeo cowboys and rock musicians cut out of magazines. He looked at her bookshelf and saw that the books on falconry that Nate had given her were gone.
Sheridan looked up from her homework. “I guess I’ve got new interests.”
“That came about pretty quickly,” he said.
“Dad,” Sheridan said, “Nate is gone. Didn’t Mom tell you that?”
“No.”
“I guess I’m not all that surprised,” Sheridan said.
Joe continued down the hallway, puzzled.
Marybeth and Missy were having coffee at the table when Joe came into the dining room.
“What’s this about Nate?” he asked, interrupting Missy, who was talking about Venetian glass.
The look on Marybeth’s face struck Joe. There was some fear in it, as well as caution. “He’s been gone for three days,” she said.
“That’s not so unusual,” Joe said, thinking of Nate’s long absences.
“This time, his phone is disconnected,” Marybeth said. Joe still didn’t understand the gravity behind Marybeth’s meaning.
“Joe,” she said, “he seems to have vanished the same night Sheriff Barnum disappeared.”
“And good riddance to that man,” Missy chimed in.
Now, Joe got it.
It was late in the evening when he returned to the house. Missy was finally gone, and Marybeth had fallen asleep on the couch with the television on. Joe hung up his jacket in the mudroom and gently woke her.
“Did you find him?” she asked, rubbing her eyes and stretching. Stretching provocatively, Joe thought.
He shook his head. “The bison’s gone,” Joe said. “His mews is empty, and the house is locked down tight. His Jeep is gone too.”
“Joe, do you think—”
“No,” he said, sitting down beside her. “He’s somewhere.
But it sure seems strange that he wouldn’t let you know he was going since he agreed to watch over things here.”
Something passed over her face that he couldn’t read, something he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out more about.
They sat in silence for a moment, and she said, “I’m so glad you’re home.”
He nodded. “Me too.”
“What are we going to do, Joe?” she asked.
“That’s a big question. You mean with my job?”
“That,” she said, and didn’t finish her thought.
“It depends on who gets elected governor,” Joe said.
“Trey thinks a lot depends on the election, and who is appointed director of the agency.”
“I’ve heard Randy Pope’s name mentioned.”
Joe sighed. “Me too.”
She seemed to want to tell him something, he thought, but she remained silent.
...
They opened a bottle of wine left over from Missy’s wedding and took it to bed with them. They made love voraciously the first time, tenderly the second. What struck him was how different she felt at the outset, and familiar she became.
He watched her wash her face at the sink beneath the mirror, and studied her as she climbed back into bed with him.
“Don’t ever leave for so long again, Joe,” she said, snuggling up to him.
“I won’t,” he said. Then: “We’ve got to work on some things, don’t we?”
He felt her tense up, then gradually relax. “Yes, we do.”
The next week, Joe said, “Remember when you told me about that fawn in the yard?” Marybeth was next to him on the couch, and he reached over and brushed her hair behind her ear.
“Yes.”
“You said Nate picked up the body and took it away.”
She nodded.
