86Early the next morning, Becca drove the battered brown truck down the highway, following the directions Oscar had given her on the phone. She expected to see a business complex or perhaps a home office, but when she turned at the road following the milepost he indicated, the truck rumbled along a dirt track, a fantail of dust rising behind. She approached an area that, unlike the rest of the surrounding desert, boasted massive green trees, cottonwoods clustered by the riverside. Oscar's SUV was parked in the shade at what appeared to be the end of the road.
She found the psychiatrist sitting in a folding chair, an Audubon Society ball cap covering his head, a pair of binoculars obscuring his face as he looked into the sky. The river flowed placidly, both banks bright with foliage.
“Wha
