he said. "I want the truth."

"Could this be a hoax?"

Jack shot a quick glance at Diane Hoffman. She mowed slightly. Might have been a nod. He turned back to Myron. "What do you mean?"

"Could Chad be behind this?"

The longer flyaway hairs got caught up in a crossbreeze and fell down into his eyes. He pushed them away with his fingers. Something came across his face. Rumination, maybe? Unlike Linda Coldren, the idea had not snapped him into a defensive stance. He was pondering the possibility, or perhaps merely grasping at an option thatmeant safety for his son.

"There were two different voices," Coldren said.

"On the phone." _

"It could be a voice changer." Myron explained what that was.

More rumination. Coldren's face scrunched up. "I

really don't know."

"Is it something you can imagine Chad doing?"

"No," Coldren replied. "But who can imagine anyone's kid doing something like this? I'm trying to remain objective here, hard as that is. Do I think my boy could do something like this? Of course not. But then again, I woudn't be the first parent to be wrong about my kid;

now, would I?"

Fair enough, Myron thought. "Has Chad ever run away?"

"No."

"Any trouble in the family? Anything that might make him want to do something like this?"

"Something like fake his own kidnapping?"

"It doesn't have to be that extreme," Myron said.

"Maybe something you or your wife did that got him upset."

"No," he said, his voice suddenly faraway. "I can't think of anything." He looked up. The sun was low and not very strong anymore, but he still sort of squinted up at Myron, the side of his hand resting on his forehead in an eye-shading salute. The posture reminded Myron of the photograph of Chad he'd seen at the house.

Jack said, "You have a thought, Myron, don't you?"

"Barely."

"I'd still like to hear it," Coldren said.

"How badly do you want to win this tournament, Jack?"

Coldren gave a half-smile. "You were an athlete, Myron. You know how badly." .

"Yes," Myron said, "l do."

"So what's your point?"

"Your son is an athlete. He probably knows too."

"Yes," Coldren said. Then: "I'm still waiting for the point."

"lf someone wanted to hurt you," Myron said, "what better way than to mess up your chance of winning the Open?"

Jack Coldren's eyes had that sucker punched look again. He took a step back.

"I'm only theorizing," Myron added quickly. "I'm not saying your son is doing that .... "

"But you need to explore every avenue," Jack Coldren finished for him.

"Yes."

Coldren recovered, but it took him a little time. ' 'Even if what you're saying is true, it doesn't have to be Chad.

Someone else could have done this to get at me." Again he glanced over at his caddie. Still looking at her, he said, "Wouldn't be the first time."

"What do you mean?"

Jack Coldren didn't answer right away. He turned away from both of them and squinted out toward where he had been hitting balls. There was nothing to see. His back was to Myron. "You probably know I lost the Open '