One horse was tall and inky black with a wavy mane; the other was the color of a new penny with a short mane but flowing tail. The black one skidded to a stop abruptly while the copper horse continued to the end of the fence, turning with ease and gradually slowing down to a trot. I wondered if they knew what they were running from. The house sat at the end of a circle drive, an abnormally large garage on one side. The yard was done in white rocks, a few cacti, and a large juniper tree. A gray sedan with a Florida plate was in the driveway, but the street was otherwise deserted. Maybe everyone was at work or school or they parked in their garages, sheltering their cars from the relentless desert sun. I opted to park in the street and shouldered my backpack, wondering how to tell Gustav about Antonia, hoping he could help me find her. The door was tucked inside an alcove, the adobe archway providing some shade on a small front patio. When the door swung open I felt the rush of cool air, and goose bumps immediately rose on my arms.
