“It’s incredible just to have the shot.”

In the fourth shot he had stepped fully out and was advancing toward Wish, holding his hands up and looking scared and angry. He was built like Danny, muscled, tall, dark, and young.

“Wish was lucky,” Nina said.

“To get these pictures?” Paul’s hand moved to her thigh. They had both leaned back to study the three shots, now side by side on the computer screen, their necks stiff with the effort, as if the shots were Picassos. Which they were, lawyers’ Picassos, strong, timeless, and irrefutable.

And as mysterious as a Picasso. The two shots still did not reveal why this young man had killed three people and almost killed another.

Nina accepted his touch. “Yes, Wish was lucky to take the shots, but also to still be alive.”

“So, after tucking the memory card into his pocket, Wish drops the camera and runs at this point, and Danny gets lost for a while but catches up to him on the trail. But Coyote has followed Danny. He kills Danny and grabs Wish, who manages to escape.”

“That’s how Wish says it happened.”

“Why didn’t Wish mention this memory card? How the hell could he forget it?”

“He must have popped another one in before he ran. When the sheriff’s office found the camera on Robles Ridge it had a memory card with no photos taken.”

“That’s it, then. Why are you grinning?”

Nina said, “I’ve got something Jaime doesn’t have, and it helps Wish. Of course I’m grinning.”

“Danny couldn’t have been in on it either. If he was, Coyote wouldn’t have had any reason to kill him.”

“I know. That’s how it must be, and Wish won’t have it any other way. But Britta said Danny was in on it. She heard him plotting with Coyote, for Pete’s sake.”

“She’s lying?”

“Anyway, look at how a jury will see this. Wish up on the mountain, taking photos. Coyote caught in two of the shots. I don’t understand what part Danny may have played, but I do know this, it’s going to look like Wish was trying to catch an arsonist, and the rest is a tap dance. I don’t have to explain everything.”

Paul got up and stretched. “You going to give the photos to Jaime?”

“I have to in order to use them at the prelim. I’m going to have Wish take the stand, Paul.”

Paul shook his head. “You are the only lawyer in the whole world who would do that. Then the D.A. has months to go over what he says and twist it into anything he wants. It’s a murder case. Are you sure?”

Nina ticked the points off on her fingers. “First, he’s led a clean life, Paul. No ugly character evidence or prior felony convictions to come in and slime him if he takes the stand. They can’t mention any juvenile offenses. Second, he’s got a simple story and I think he can handle the cross-exam. Third, he’s innocent, and I think it’ll come across. Fourth, I need him to authenticate these shots and explain what he was doing up there. If he doesn’t take the stand, his story doesn’t come out, the prelim becomes a pro forma exercise, and Wish stays in jail for maybe a year.”

Paul thought about this. “But-”

“Mom?” Bob stood in the doorway in his rumpled skivvies, rubbing his eyes. Nina took in again his height, his long narrow feet, a slight shadowy hint of whiskers above his upper lip. The light fell on his face in a way that made her think of Kurt. “What time is it?”

“Seven. At night. You had a good nap.”

“Hi, Paul.”

“Hi, kid.”

“I am so hungry. Is there any food?”

Nina jumped up. “Sure, honey. What would you like? Cereal? I could fix you some scrambled eggs. Or do you want a sandwich?”

“Oh-whatever. Anything edible.”

“Come on in the kitchen.” Nina went over to Bob and gave him a quick hug.

They went into the kitchen and Nina got out the frying pan. It was seven in the evening and she and Paul had just found an important piece of evidence and Bob was sitting at the table drinking orange juice.

She broke the eggs in the pan and put toast in the toaster. In the other room Paul had passed through the duffel area and sat down at his computer. Bob looked out the doors to the deck and said, “Check that foggy night. In Stockholm it’s summer. It stays light until midnight.”

“It’s summer here too, silly.”

“What’m I gonna do now?”

“Eat. Bob-”

“Yeah?”

“I have to work tonight.”

“On Wish’s case?” She had told him on the phone about Wish.

“That’s right. We have a prelim in his case starting next week.”

“I’ll help you. Sign me up.”

“That’s a nice thing to say, honey, but-the best thing you could do is give Hitchcock lots of love right now and help him get better. Could you take on that responsibility? I would really appreciate your help.”

“Sure.” He petted the dog, who lay at his feet. Poor Hitchcock’s bandages were soiled already. The vet had given him painkillers, which made him drag around and sleep a lot. Nina patted the dog too, and tried without much success to restick the gauze on his neck. “What happened, anyway? Did Hitchcock get hit by a car?”

“A dogfight.”

“Hitchcock fought with a dog? Who won?”

“Hitchcock,” Nina said. “How are you feeling?”

“Like sh-not so good.”

“Don’t worry, everything will be fine,” Nina said, too brightly. She served him the eggs and toast and watched him eat. “Do you want to talk?” she asked.

“No, you’re busy.”

Nina dropped into the chair beside him. “Not that busy. You’ve just come from a far country. I’m sure you’ve had a million adventures, and I want to hear-”

“You have to work tonight, and we’ve got plenty of time to talk later. I have stuff to do. I have to call Taylor and Troy at Tahoe. Call Dad and tell him I made it.”

“Call your grandpa too,” Nina said. “He’ll be happy you’re here in town.”

“Yeah, I want to see Isaiah.”

Nina left him eating and went into the bedroom to get her jacket. From the kitchen to the bedroom she had to go through the living room, where Paul was now sitting on the couch talking on the phone and leaning over at an uncomfortable angle to look at the photos again. Bob’s open duffel lay in the corner, and his carry-on knapsack lay in the middle of the floor.

She picked it up and set it inside the den, saw the sofa sleeper with its roil of blankets taking up most of the room, and got busy.

Kitchen, bedroom, living room, and study. The place already felt like a tiny box, now that Bob was in it.

Isaiah, Angie, Harlan. Family who had been comfortably distant, moving in fast on her radarscope, now that Bob had come. Her father, big, filling up emotional space she couldn’t spare right now.

She sat down on the bed. Between Paul and Wish, she had thought the motel was full up. But now Bob was here. For a moment, she panicked. But following this, she thought of Bob in the kitchen, eating eggs, and inside her, something that had been tense and anxious and incomplete soothed and smoothed itself.

The Boy was back. She was complete again. And happy.

Paul, one finger looped in the top of his shorts, observed. “You’ll be going, then,” he said.

“Not necessarily,” Nina said, punching in Elizabeth’s number.

“Yes, you will. And you will avoid the inevitable confrontation.”

She held the phone to her ear, desperate for an answer.

“Can’t put it off forever, Ms. Reilly,” he said. He drank some cold coffee, making a face. “Things have changed. Must reevaluate options. I’m going if you go. Protect and serve.”

“You can’t, Paul. You’ve been drinking.”

Elizabeth answered. “Nina? You’re coming, aren’t you?”

“I was wondering if we could make this tomorrow?” Nina asked.

“I’m leaving for the weekend. I have to get away. You really ought to make it if you can.”

She let her brown eyes rest on Paul’s bloodshot hazel eyes. “On my way,” she said. He looked away.