There was a note on the table in his neat printing. I'm at work. Call me if you need me. Mountain Dave called. The two horses came out of the park at Summit Road. Dave hasn't talked to the cyclist named John yet, but he says he'll keep looking. And Dave absolutely will not talk to the police. Love to you-Blue Slowly I set the piece of paper down on the table. The horses, and possibly Barbara, had exited Lorene Roberts at Summit Road. I knew exactly where-a dirt road I'd hiked down myself, many years ago. What if... if? What was it Barbara had said? She had a sister named Paula who lived on Summit Road. What if Barbara had merely chosen an unconventional way to go stay with her sister? And how in the world could I find her, armed simply with the knowledge of a woman named Paula who lived on Summit Road. I tried getting a Paula King's phone number out of the information operator. No luck. What now? Drumming my fingers on the table, I stared out the big windows into the garden. Mid-afternoon was easing into the mellow, golden light of late afternoon.
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