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Show 131 something happens." Did he believe that? The next day, Lane Pierson called. 4 "Hey, Painter . . . you play tennis?" "I'm sorry . . . Not really," Hunt had said. In the background, just before he hungup, he could hear Lane's wife, Andi, asking, "See if they play doubles!" In bed, mid-August, late into the night, Leah, in a voice struck of energy, said to Hunt: "We have no friends." "What?" Hunt wrestled his mind awake. "We have no friends," Leah said simply. The dark, outside, was a turquoise-lavender. "The Groates." "The Groates are in New Hampshire." "We're friends with the Chapels." "Hunt: You know the Chapels will always live in Connecticut." "Well, we have Rudy." "Kelly?" "Sure." Hunt truly loved Rudy Kelly- Rudy was a kind of song. Images of trout streams and Manhattan streets, bars, lights, flooded Hunt. "Wherever he is?" "Well ..." "And when was the last time we heard from him?" "I don't know. But probably ..." "Ten months, at least. Eleven. Maybe over a year. How can you say |
