17
March 30, 2019
Taos, New Mexico
Pete Miami was the only redheaded friend Ramsey had ever had. He was a tall, lanky bundle of brains. Einstein on steroids, Paige had called him. He played the bongo drums and the bass, wrote music, and could do cube roots in his head. In his personal interactions, he was like a great Dane puppy, running around the house, skidding on hardwood floors, knocking over tables and chairs, barreling straight at you, and at the last moment sliding to a jackknifing, claw scratching stop. They’d met as postdocs studying under Myriam at the University of Oregon and it was deep fellowship at first sight. They became inseparable except when either of them was on what they euphemistically called a “mission.” It was a kind of code they used when either of them was bus
