Fielder's Choice

  Matt didn’t want to admit that having Alana in the stands was distracting, but he spent nearly as much time glancing over at her as he did paying attention to the game. A grounder nearly got by him in the second inning.

  He scuttled into the dugout and grabbed his batting helmet. The Giants needed a run to shoot ahead of the Cubs. Alex was batting ahead of him; with a little luck between them, they ought to be able to put something on the board. Alex knew the Cubs’ pitcher and had reminded Matt that the guy had heat but usually let a fat one slip in over the plate by the third pitch. He’d have to be patient.

  Matt’s phone buzzed as he grabbed for his helmet and headed to the on-deck circle.

  It was Sophie’s ringtone.

  She’d never call during a game unless it was dire—he had to answer. Let Walsh chew him out for having his phone on him and taking a call; he didn’t have a motherless six-year-old.

  Matt cupped his hands over his ears and felt the blood go out of him when the camp director told him that Sophie had been missing for several hours. When he asked why Sophie didn't have her cellphone on her, the director told him they took cellphones away from campers during the day. She'd called him with Sophie's with the hope he'd answer. Her attempt at a calm tone didn't hide her desperation as she reported that they’d scoured the grounds and were about to call the sheriff.

  As Matt pocketed his phone and stepped into the on-deck circle, Alex dinged a seeing-eye ball between first and second, and the crowd went wild.

  Matt stepped into the batter’s box.

  Nothing looked normal. Not the field, not the pitcher. He felt a tinge of nausea as his mind flashed though options. He’d have to go through with the at-bat. What he needed right then was a home run; it’d get him off the bases. Then he’d just tell Walsh he had an emergency and had to leave the game.

  He sucked in a breath and stepped out of the box, calling time. The catcher muttered, but Matt didn’t care. He closed his eyes, and in his mind he saw his hit sail into the center field bleachers. He stepped up to the plate and focused, felt the energy swirl through him. It was all he could do to let the first two pitches go by. Adrenaline pricked through him and his mouth went dry.

  The pitcher wound up and released the ball.

  Matt stepped, pivoted and heard the crack of the bat. The ball soared high, higher, out into the bay. He ran the bases in a blur. He vaguely heard a rookie in the dugout say he wanted Matt to teach him how to call up energy like that.

  Matt stepped over to Walsh and tried to stay calm as he told him the situation.

  “There’s no need to alarm anyone,” Matt said to the astonished Walsh. “Win the game. I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.”

  Walsh didn’t ask questions as Matt left the dugout. He started for the clubhouse, then turned and made his way through the surprised fans until he reached Alana. He came up behind her and Jackie.

  “Uniformed player in the stands?” Jackie said. “Are you crazy?”

  Matt went down on one knee, bringing him level with Alana’s face. He held her head and whispered in her ear.

  “Sophie’s missing, maybe for several hours. I got the impression they’re not sure how long it’s been since someone last saw her. Evidently they caught her two nights ago out roaming around, but didn’t bother to tell me until now.”

  “Oh my God—”

  “You know the ranch, Alana, better than anyone. You told me you wandered it as a kid.”

  Alana stood. “Let’s go.” She quickly filled Jackie in.

  “I’m coming too,” Jackie said.

  “I have my sports car,” Matt said. “You’ll have to drive behind...”

  “You can try to keep up with me,” she said.

  They raced out of the stands and to the parking lot.

  Matt sped along the Embarcadero toward the Golden Gate Bridge. Prayed with every mile that there’d be no traffic snarls. Wished he had a helicopter, but his driving skills would have to do.

  Alana reached under her feet and pulled up the drawing he’d thrown into the car that morning. It portrayed a woman, an older, wrinkled woman.

  “Who’s this?”

  Matt glanced at it.

  “I don’t know. Maybe one of your staffers. I was going to ask you. Sophie’s made several drawings like that.”

  He gripped the wheel until his knuckles blanched. His fury and nerves sliced through his control.

  “How could you let your people allow kids to roam alone? It’s dangerous. It’s irresponsible. There should be procedures, standards and—”

  “You’re being an ass,” Alana said in a measured tone. “And you’ve made your point. I obviously do not meet your standards. I got it.”

  “It’s not just my standards, it’s common sense. Anyone with a kid—”

  “Stop arguing and drive. There are calls to make.”

  She whipped out her phone and within minutes had the sheriff and the fire department on the way to the ranch.

  He kept his temper under control as she continued to make calls.

  “Peg? It’s Alana. Tell the staff to clear the way for the emergency vehicles. I asked the sheriff to bring the dog team, but they’re in the north county and can’t get there for at least two hours. But lock up the chickens just in case. And look, I don’t want the other kids scared. Jackie’s on her way just behind us.” She paused. “You know, Jackie Tavonesi.” She paused again. “No, I’m with Matt Darrington, Sophie’s dad. Look, when Jackie arrives, have her take the kids down to the pond or out for a game or something. We don’t need the whole camp traumatized.”

  Matt was amazed at how quickly and competently Alana had taken control. It was a side of her he’d never seen. A side of her that perhaps he was guilty of not bothering to look for.

  Still, though she sounded steady, Matt saw that her hands were shaking.

  He slipped one of his own hands under his thigh, not wanting her to see that he was just as shaky as she was.