“Time?”

“We have about ten minutes.”

“Bob, you better comb your hair. And change your clothes. We’re going to a restaurant tonight.” Kurt said this, and Bob went. No back talk.

Kurt sat down on the couch in front of the fire. “Can you sit down for a minute? I’d like to know a little more about your case. Do you have time?”

“Since I’m dragging you into this, I had better explain.” She sat down at the other end of the couch. He smiled at her, right at home. He had always been one of those people who do the right thing, who discipline themselves, who are sure who they are. Personal strength comes from that inborn sureness. The glad feeling came back, and Nina realized that she needed his support.

“All right. It’s a wrongful-death case. A civil case. An innocent bystander, a woman, was killed during a robbery, and I represent her husband.”

He nodded. The cocked eyebrows and narrow jaw were the same, the long dark hair brushed straight back, the knitted brows and hollows under the cheekbone. He was as tall as Paul, but lighter. She saw the faint scar on his cheekbone. She had forgotten that he, too, had once been hit by a bullet. She remembered that they were the same age.

She said, “Long story short, I reactivated the case when it was about to be thrown out. I’ve been looking for the shooter, and to do that I needed to find the people who were robbed. They’re here in Germany, and they’ve agreed to make statements.”

“What do they know?”

“They saw him. He was wearing a ski mask, but they saw him. They know more than that. They know why he decided to rob them, and they have been reluctant to talk about it. But I’m going to get the full story now, and on the record.”

“Good.”

“So why am I jumpy? Why is this so sudden? Because the shooter seems to have reactivated, too. What he’s trying to stop is the Hanna case.”

“What has he done?”

“He killed a friend in front of me. At Tahoe. He shot her. I think he thought it was me.”

Kurt leaned back, closed his eyes, and expelled a long breath. “What else?”

“He’s been watching me. And Bob. I’m sorry, Kurt.”

“Bob, huh?”

“That’s why I have to end this fast. He’s been prowling around Tahoe. He’s mobile, though. He threatened two of the witnesses in Boston.”

“He threatened them?”

“Tried to kill them. They went to Heddesheim because the girl’s family lives there and they thought they’d be safer.”

“Anything else?”

“That’s all that matters.”

“He could try to get at you through Bob.”

Nina caught her breath. “You always had a way of cutting through facts. You could have been a…”

“Am I right?”

“Yes, you’re right. That’s one reason I wanted to get out of town and take Bob with me. I’m hoping the police will track him down while Bob is here.”

“Could he have followed you here?”

“I just don’t think… it’s so far. The decision to take the trip was made so fast. But I have to say that the guy seems to know what I’m doing. I don’t know how. Kurt, I have not given your address to anyone.”

“My phone number?”

“Only Sandy has it.”

He must have understood by the look on her face that Sandy would reveal nothing that might endanger them, not ever. “So we’re safe here. But what about this office we’re going to?”

“It’s in the police department. I set it up that way.” She waited for his verdict.

Bob came back in, presumably cleaned up, though it was impossible to tell from the parka and baseball cap. He looked at them and said in an accusatory tone, “What’m I missing?”

“I was just telling your dad about the case.”

“I brought my camera. And my GameBoy.”

“We’ll find plenty to do while your mother is busy,” Kurt said. “And then we’ll eat.”

“So it’s okay?” Nina said.

“It is what it is,” Kurt said. “Let’s go.” He locked up carefully.

Heddesheim had a lot of cars for a quaint village. In fact, Nina was figuring out something else about Germany: The facade was traditional, with half-timbered homes, geraniums, cobblestones; but the mostly-invisible technology was twenty-first century. Accompanying the respect for history was a very modern energy.

They wended their way through the town square and somehow Kurt found them a parking spot a couple of blocks from the police station. It was three-thirty in the afternoon, and seemed to be getting dark already. The yellow streetlights had begun to sputter and the shop lights were on. Christmas lights and wreaths hung in the pastry shop and the butcher’s, and the street was full of shoppers and office workers with cell phones at their ears.

As they rounded the corner, they saw the imposing building where the depositions would take place across the boulevard, the red, black, and yellow German flag hanging limply from its tall pole in this early dusk in the light of a single lamp. On the steps Nina saw three young people, one a girl, standing uncertainly in a huddle, talking, all dressed similarly in dark jackets and pants.

“Those are my witnesses,” she said. “I’ll take it from here.”

“Want us to go in with you?” Kurt asked her. His eyes scanned the street traffic. It was noisy and hard to hear.

“No, no, you guys go get something warm to drink. Take some pictures.” She wished the weather were more welcoming, that they had more to do, but Bob was looking around with interest. “I’ll break it off for the night at about six-thirty and call you.”

“Be careful.”

She stepped off the curb and crossed, looking back once to see Bob and Kurt still standing there, watching her. A moist breeze, the remnant of the rain, blew down the avenue.

“Hello.”

The three turned to her. Three young, scared faces.

“We have come.” The young Indian man, Sumaraj Das, shook her hand. He wore a red cashmere muffler and an overcoat.

“Hello, Silke.”

Silke was pale but her expression was determined. “Yes, we are ready,” she said. “And this is Elliott. Raj? What are you doing? Are you all right?”

Raj had closed his eyes and brought his hand up to his chest.

“Raj?” Silke Kilmer said again, panic in her eyes. Then she made another sound, a grunt, a sound that this young lady would never have made in company, except that she had just been shot. Nina knew this instantly.

“Uh.” Silke fell with Raj.

Nina and Elliott tumbled against the short wall at the top of the stairs and fell behind it, entangled.

Nina’s leg was still exposed. She pulled it quickly behind the shelter of the wall. Elliott was shouting something beside her, but she was feeling very quiet, paralyzed almost, praying, Please don’t let him shoot me, too.

She heard screams. Nina opened her eyes. Elliott Wakefield crouched beside her, his glasses askew, peering around the wall toward the steps. He was about to jump out there. She pulled him back.

“But-my friends!”

“Someone else has to help them! He could be waiting for you to show your face!” Elliott comprehended this. He fell back against the wall and reached in his jacket and felt for something.

“Do you have a gun?”

“No! How could I get a gun through customs?”

“Just sit tight,” Nina said. “We’re just going to sit here and not move.”

“Did he kill them?” His eyes were wild.

“Just sit tight!” The tall double doors burst open and several uniformed police officers came running out.

After the ambulances left, after the police took them inside and questioned them at length; after Elliott had some sort of panic attack and had to be subdued and kept from running away; after the officer came in to tell them that Silke Kilmer and Raj Das hadn’t made it; long after full darkness came upon the town and the traffic noises subsided outside; after the German police woke up Sergeant Cheney at his home at Tahoe and confirmed the details of Nina’s story; after she gave them a false address for Kurt and said they’d be available for more questions the next day; after Elliott said to her in the cold waiting room, “What should I do?”; after all that, Nina and Elliott were released.