Flashback

“No, the light has to be better than this for Coors Field. It’s supposed to be clear weather tomorrow. We’ll wait until early afternoon when the slant of light will be right.”

“Why must the light be better, Bottom-san?”

“There’s no artificial light in the ballpark during the day,” said Nick.

“Yes?”

“The light should be to your best advantage,” said Nick. “Since you’re going to have to be my sniper-second.”

“Me? The detention center provides professional snipers.”

“For officers of the law and lawyers there by court order it does,” said Nick. “You and I have no more official business there than a family member.”

“Certainly the official status of the Advisor’s office…,” began Sato.

“Will allow me to provide my own sniper-second,” said Nick. “That’s you. How good are you with a long gun?”

Sato said nothing.

“Well, it doesn’t really matter,” said Nick.

“How can this be the case, Bottom-san?”

“There are thirty-some thousand rapists, thieves, thugs, and murderers in Coors Field,” said Nick. “If even half a dozen or so come after me at once—or if they pull me behind a girder or into one of their hovels and out of sight—you’re not going to be able to stop them in time. The sniper-second is really there to put the captured visitor out of his misery before the fiends and felons start having too much creative fun.”

“Ah, so,” said Sato. He did not seem overly horrified or displeased by the news.

Sato’s phone told them through the car speakers that a major IED blast had gone off at the Pecos Street and Highway 36 interchange and that all traffic was being diverted south on Federal Boulevard for the detour. Nick could see the smoke and dust rising ahead, just as it had from the Mousetrap explosion a few days—a few years—earlier.

Dara, who is reading in bed, closes her book and says, “Nick, how is the investigation going?”

He closes his car magazine but keeps his finger in place for a bookmark. “In circles, kiddo. None of it makes any sense.”

“Well, it’s early days, as the British used to say.”

“Yeah.”

He expects her to go back to her reading—Thomas Hardy—but she keeps the book shut and looks at him. “There’s no danger for you in this investigation, is there, Nick?”

Surprised, he looks her straight in the eyes and says, “None at all. Why should there be?”

“It’s political, Nick. I hate anything involving politics, much less with the son of a famous Japanese industrialist or whatever the hell he is.”

“Nakamura’s people are cooperating,” says Nick. “What danger could there be for a police officer?”

Dara rolls her eyes. “There’s always some danger, damn you. Don’t treat me as if I just fell off the turnip truck or just married a newbie patrolman without knowing the lay of the land.”

Nick shakes his head and grins. “I like that verb.”

“What verb?”

“Lay. As in, to be laid, to get laid.”

The hovering Nick is surprised. Do they make love this night? He’s never flashed on this time before—had had trouble even finding an entry point for the thirty-minute flash—and has no idea whether they ended the evening with sex. He’d only barely remembered the conversation.

It’s Dara’s turn to shake her head. She’s not amused and not distracted. “They’re not going to send you back to Santa Fe, are they?”

The torn abdominal muscles of six-years-ago Nick Bottom flinch and tighten at that question even as the gut of the now-Nick also tightens in fear.

“No,” he says seriously, looking into her eyes again. “There’s no chance of that, Dara.”

“You said there was a suspect or potential witness or something down there…”

“Not so important that Captain Sheers or the department’s going to risk one or both of their chief investigating detectives,” interrupts Nick. “New Mexico’s more hostile territory than three years ago when… than three years ago. We’ll phone the Santa Fe sheriff’s office and have him or her get what we need.”

Dara is looking dubious. She’s set Thomas Hardy on the bedside table.

“I swear, kiddo,” says Nick. “I’m not going back to Santa Fe. I’d resign first.”

“Good,” says Dara, smiling for the first time. “Because I think I’d shoot you first.”

He tosses his car magazine aside and puts his arm around her.

Fifteen minutes later, coming up and out of the flash, Nick wonders how he ever could have forgotten the lovemaking of that evening.

It wasn’t quite 10 p.m. when Nick came up out of that flash. He had no intention of using the vials he’d received from Sato to flash on Delroy Brown or any other suspect’s interview. He was planning the next six or eight hours in terms of finding every conversation he could with Dara on what she was doing for ADA Harvey Cohen, hunting for any clue as to why they might have been at Six Flags Over the Jews the day of Keigo’s interview with Danny Oz.

Nick knew that he couldn’t restrict this investigation—his real investigation now—to flashback sessions. He’d have to go interview Dara and Cohen’s former boss, District Attorney Mannie Ortega, and probably have to ask his old partner K. T. Lincoln for help in getting access to files.