Had it really been a note for me? I hadn't exchanged a significant sentence with the guy in years, and yet he had written, “I'm afraid I misled you the other day.” The other day. What had happened the other day? Did that mean yesterday? Two days ago? The last I'd spoken about Logan was with his wife, Jamie, and Logan hadn't known about that. And of course I'd talked with my family about him when Fritz told me he was missing and gave me the tape. The tape, I thought. “The tape,” I said aloud.“What?” asked Jack, his eyes on the winding road.“It's got to be the tape!” I yelled, opening the glove compartment and rummaging around inside. Jack had messed it up with his music, and at first I feared the tape was gone, but finally I found it, marked with Logan's own distinctive printing. “Jack, we have to play this,” I said. I held it out with a trembling hand. “I think Logan left a message on it.”Jack understood at once, and wordlessly he ejected one of his own tapes from his machine.
