When I was finally approached again it was by a Routt County sheriff's investigator who was flanked by both a Steamboat Springs police detective and an FBI agent. I shook myself from my stupor and asked about Kimbers condition.

None of the the cops answered me. I asked about Kimbers health. They declined to tell me that, either. Their demeanor convinced me that I might still be in some legal jeopardy for defending myself against Phil Barrett up in the blow down so I asked to be allowed to make a phone call. They exchanged wary glances before they assented. I used the opportunity to phone Lauren. She listened to my lengthy story with remarkable patience and restraint, inquired twice about my well-being, and ordered me not to talk to anyone until she was by my side. She promised she'd be in Steamboat within four hours.

The cops weren't happy with me when I told them that at the advice of an attorney I was choosing not to speak with them, at least temporarily. Percy Smith was recruited to try and goad me into cooperation. They could not have known that he was absolutely the wrong emissary. After I refused to change my mind, it was clear that the cops remained unhappy with me. I knew that the alternative was my wife being unhappy with me. My decision to stay silent was not a particularly anguished one; I wasn't planning on going home with any of the cops.

Before I nodded off again, I wondered about Flynn and Russ and Dell Franklin and whether they were secreted away close by. I doubted that if I asked the cops I would get a straight answer. I didn't ask. Instead I curled up and slept on the floor in the corner of the interview room until my wife arrived.

Lauren poked her head in the door around two o'clock in the afternoon.

She brought concern, a sweet smile, a little shake of her head that amply conveyed

"You are so pathetic but I love you anyway," and lunch in a bag. I was grateful for three out of four. After Lauren kissed me she informed me wryly that she should also have fetched a toothbrush and a razor.

The most important gift she bore was her legal acumen, which she feared I greatly needed.

I asked about the baby and how she felt after the long drive. As she touched her belly her eyes told me everything was fine. She explained that she had called Sam and asked him to drive her over the Divide so she wouldn't get so exhausted by the trip. Satoshi had insisted on coming along, too. I was comforted to know that Sam was close by and hoped I would get an opportunity to be the one to tell Satoshi exactly what had happened to her sister.

I was also hungry for news.

While I ate, Lauren talked. She wasn't able to provide much of an update on Kimber. All she knew was what she had heard on the car radio on the drive up from Boulder-that he had survived his gunshot and was in surgery at the local hospital.

Raymond Welle's detention by the Routt County sheriff was the day's big event.

Lauren's impression was that none of the national news organizations had pieced together the intricacies of the story. No one was yet reporting anything about the two girls who had died in 1988 at the Silky Road Ranch. And no one was reporting anything about the crazy denouement in the blow down on the Routt Divide or the discovery of Dorothy Levin's body. But having a United States congressman under suspicion in the attempted murder of an ex-FBI agent was big enough news for the time being. Lauren said that she expected dozens of satellite crews to descend on Steamboat within the next few hours. She also said that she was sure that the right-wing blonds on the cable news talk shows were already piecing together the skeleton of a "make-my-day" defense for Welle to employ for shooting Kimber. Shortly after they had all checked in for about the hundredth time on the Monica Lewinsky pathos, Lauren had decided that she wasn't fond of the right-wing blonds on the cable news talk shows.

I asked what defense Welle might concoct for arranging to have his wife, Gloria, murdered by Brian Sample.

Lauren smiled and said she couldn't think of a single one.

It became clear that Lauren wasn't at all concerned about the ill-advised decision that Kimber and I had made to enter Raymond Welle's home while seeking shelter from the storm of Kimber's panic attack. Based on my rendition of events she was far more concerned about my claim of self-defense for burying the butt of Kimber's gun into the side of Phil Barrett's head. She pointed out that my only corroborating witness was unconscious the last time I had seen him. After a few more questions, our much-too-brief reunion was over. Lauren kissed me again and left. She had some negotiating to do on my behalf.

The minutes passed like a gallstone. Waiting, it turned out, had been much easier when I was asleep.

After a half hour she returned.

"I need you to think carefully," she said, her back to the closed door.

"Have you told anyone but me about Welle's responsibility for Gloria's murder?"

"No. I didn't have a chance to say much of anything before they started treating me like a criminal."

"And you're absolutely certain about what Welle told you?"

"Yes, he confessed to arranging Gloria's murder. It was an insurance scheme with Brian Sample. Ray walked me through motive, plan, everything."

"You'll testify against him?"

"Of course."

Her eyes brightened.

"Good. The police don't seem to know anything about it. I'm going to offer them a little trade. I think it will be your ticket out of here."

"Great. Any news on Kimber?"

"He survived the surgery and corroborated your account of Phil's death."

I hissed, "Yessss," as I thrust my fist into the air like Sam always did at Avalanche games.

She walked up to me and ran her fingers from the back of my head to the base of my spine and embraced me tightly.

"I don't usually do this with clients," she purred.

"But occasionally?"

"I try to take it one client at a time."

The interview with the assembled authorities lasted over three hours.

Lauren stayed with me for the duration. The discussion covered the entire previous night. The meeting with Rat. The trip to Clark. The blow down Phil Barrett's demise. Cathy Franklin's demise. Douglas Levin's stalking of his wife and shooting at her at the Welle fundraiser in Denver. Barrett killing Dorothy.

The apparent discovery of Dorothy Levin's body. Rescuing Flynn and Russ from their Lincoln Log jail. Kimber's panic attack and the decision to seek shelter at the Silky Road Ranch. The confrontation with Ray Welle and Welle's admission that he had arranged for his wife's murder. The closet.

Everything I knew. Three times.

At ten minutes after six they handed me an envelope with my car keys and my wallet in it and told me I was free to go. I'd find my car outside in the lot.

Sam was waiting for Lauren and me at the bottom of the concrete steps.

"If you were my kid," he said with a big smile when he saw me, "I wouldn't let you go out of the house without a helmet on." "Or at least a lawyer in tow," I said as I kissed Lauren on the cheek.

"Thanks for driving her up here, Sam."

He shrugged.

"Gotta keep that baby of yours happy. I take it you're free to go?"

"Apparently. I traded my freedom for that of a congressman."

His eyebrows reached for his hairline.

"Welle?"

I nodded.

"He murdered his wife, Sam."

His eyebrows reached for the sky.

"No? I told you the story of that kidnapping was goofy. You have details? You know how he did it?"

"I do. How about I fill you in a little later?"

"Sure." He pointed toward his Cherokee. Satoshi was sitting on the front seat.

She waved. Sam said, "Satoshis anxious to hear what you learned about her sister. Are you up to it?"