Chapter 19

Nate drove the car to where the station’s asphalt met the road and stopped, even though traffic was clear. “The wild Orongorongos,” he asked, “or the airport?”

Rusty laughed, and when he spoke, he let himself slip into his rarely heard New Orleans drawl, which had been heavily influenced by his Cajun grandfather. “Well, yeah, from time to time, I like to venture over to the wild side. I’ll vote for those Orongorongos.”

Once again Nate’s eyes sparkled with his smile. “That makes it unanimous.” He took a CD from a cover with a sunburst on it—Evermore again, Follow the Sun—and slid it into the player. He switched through the tracks until he found, apparently, the song he wanted.