“Fantastic,” the man said. He took a picture of the white plastic grocery bag on the desk and said, “Why not bring it down to the evidence room?”

“Because I think it has been enough places already, and I’m not going to join the chain of custody. You take charge of it. I haven’t even opened the bag. Let me know when you’re finished.”

“I hear you, brother.” He asked questions, put on the gloves, took the gun out, and took more pictures.

“It’s a good old Saturday night special,” Cheney said.

“Six-shooter. Thirty-eight caliber.”

“How many left in the chamber?”

The tech picked up the gun with a latex-gloved hand and examined it. “Three.”

“So if it was fully loaded, three shots,” Cheney said.

“I bet you got A’s in arithmetic. Okay, I’m gonna tag it.” He made Nina sign the tag with the date, time, and place, and left with the gun. As soon as it left the room, she felt better.

“I’ll call this the Tahoe gun,” Cheney said. “Two guns down, this gun and the one that killed Chelsi Freeman, one still to find, the Heddesheim gun. The German police have it. They tell me that it was probably a Sig, a target pistol, a single-action semi-auto. This guy must spend half his time at gun stores.”

“Now we know why he had to buy another one,” Nina said. “He left the Tahoe gun at the scene of the robbery, and Meredith grabbed it.”

“And he couldn’t bet on getting the second gun through customs, so he bought the Sig under the table over there. How about a cup of water?” Cheney said. “I’m taking your statement now.”

“I have court in”-she consulted her watch-“twenty minutes.”

“We’ll call the judge’s clerk.”

“Twenty minutes,” Nina said. “Flaherty waits for no one. My client needs me there. I’ll finish up later if I have to.”

It took less time than that.

When she was finished, Cheney turned off the tape and said, “I’m going to bust her ass. For withholding this evidence. For touching that gun. For sitting two miles away with this thing for two years. For keeping me out late tonight when my wife is making gumbo in honor of the season.”

“She makes gumbo?”

“Every year, at the first snowfall. I love winter. I’m so happy it’s here.”

“Why?” Nina asked.

“Because it buries everything until spring. Everything but this case. This case is hereby pried wide open.” He gave Nina a hard look. “Aren’t you going to plead for the girl? Show mercy, et cetera et cetera, tell me how she came through in the end?”

“No,” Nina said. “Nail her. Three more people have died.” She got up. “Next case,” she said. “See you later.”

“I’ll walk you out. Oh, by the way.” He walked down the hall with its awful lighting and ushered her into the lobby. “ Germany got a hit on the fingerprint in Heddesheim.”

It was like being hit in the head. “Ohh,” Nina moaned.

“What’s the matter?”

“Headache.”

“I’m sorry. I really am. I couldn’t help wanting to spring it on you. My wife says I have a little sadistic streak. We have a name. Leland Moss Flint. Aka Lee. He attended Annapolis and graduated in 1984. If we’re lucky, we’ll have another print of his on this gun.”

“Lee Flint,” Nina said. It was such a short, sweet name to give her such a sharp pain in the head. “Where is he?”

“We’ll know soon. You all right?”

“I’m having an existential moment. Lee Flint killed so many people, Sergeant. It’s almost frightening to hear his name.”

“We’ll find him now.”

“You won’t have to look far,” Nina said. “He’s here at Tahoe.”

“How do you know that?”

“I just know. And he’s desperate.”

She called Dave Hanna after court. It was Roger she wanted to call, but she reminded herself that you don’t pick your clients and went ahead.

He sounded slightly, but not dispositively, blitzed. “Yeah?”

“It’s Nina.”

“Wait, let me sit down. Okay. What do you want?”

“I don’t want anything. I want to post you on the progress in your case.”

“How bad is the blizzard?”

“We’re going to get more than the prediction. The whole town’s celebrating.”

“That’s good. Jobs. It’s only raining down here.” Placerville was only at four thousand feet, while Lake Tahoe lay at sixty-two hundred feet.

“Your time will come,” Nina said. She was relieved that he was willing to make small talk. He seemed almost friendly.

“Roger says you’ve been working hard for me. I can’t believe you went all the way to Germany. Too bad about the witnesses. I haven’t been feeling good lately. I guess Roger told you.”

“We have developments. We have the gun, we have a fingerprint, and we have an ID.” She summarized what she knew.

“Unbelievable,” Dave said. “I’d like to come up there and really talk this through, but Echo Summit is closed and I’m kind of a mess.” Echo Summit, the pass into Tahoe from Placerville, was even higher, at seventy-four hundred feet.

“Dave? You need to be careful. We are cornering Leland Flint.”

“Never heard of him. Who is he?”

“We don’t know yet. But we’re going to get him, Dave.”

“I can’t cope with all this pressure.”

“Talk to the police down there. Get some help. Maybe Roger will come and stay with you.”

“Not Roger. He’s always on me. Ragging and nagging. We’re not getting along.”

“Then the police.”

“Why would he come after me, anyway?” The news was sinking in, and his tone was uneasy.

“It’s your case. It’s where the heat is coming from.”

“Not really. It’s your case. It’s always been your case. You took it against my will. If anything happens to me, it’s on you.” She heard the familiar resentment against the world coming through.

“That’s not fair, Dave.”

“None of this will get Sarah back. She’s dead. You can’t fix that, and the rest is crap.”

A surge of anger overtook Nina. “Your wife, your niece-they were murdered,” she said. “Stop fighting me.”

“He’ll go after you first,” Dave said. “You’re the source of the noise. You watch your own back.” He hung up.

She drove home in the early dark. KTHO said Tahoe was expected to have a couple hundred thousand visitors over the weekend. The motels along the way all had No Vacancy signs. The big ski resorts-Heavenly, Alpine, Northstar-were booked solid. On Kulow Street, every house but hers had its lights to keep away the winter ghosts. The lights weren’t about Christmas in the mountains, not really. They were about the dark, keeping it away. Not having Bob with her took away her daily life, her sense of well-being.

She thought about getting out of the Hanna case, because she was so angry at Dave Hanna. Then she thought about Chelsi, and how close they were to finding her killer. Her eyes-so innocent and bewildered in those last moments-

Wish’s van was in the driveway. She pulled in behind it, and struggled through the snow up the icy stairs.

Wish answered the door. He helped her take off her coat, took her briefcase from her, led her to the couch in front of the fire, handed her a glass of wine.

“Stop,” he said. “For a few hours. Lie down there. I’m cooking. We’ll eat soon.”

“Elliott?”

“He won twelve thousand dollars. We stopped at the Raley’s and bought eggs and coffee and milk.”

“All right.”

“Lie down.”

“Just for a minute.”

They met at the dinner table: Elliott, in a funk, his hands shaking; Wish, spooning out mashed potatoes like a lady in a hair net in the asylum cafeteria; and Nina, three-quarters of the way down her second glass of wine. Nina could feel a draft at her feet, probably from the old windows next to the table, which led to the backyard deck, which, she noticed, would have to be shoveled soon, in case the snow kept falling all night. She didn’t have a garage for the Bronco, either, which meant that after supper she’d have to open the ski closet and find shovels and brushes and scrapers.