‘‘But you were brilliant before, dealing with them. You’ve already been over the testimony. What’s the problem?’’
‘‘Jim, I wanted Artie. I don’t think I—’’
‘‘He was useless,’’ Jim said. ‘‘I mean, I hate to say it, but you’re fine on your own, Nina. Where’s your confidence? I don’t think Artie believed in me, to be honest with you. Maybe that’s why he left. Maybe he felt you’d pushed him into something he didn’t want to do.’’
Nina thought about that. She had pushed Artie. He hadn’t really wanted to come in.
If that was his problem, he had sure picked a moment to leave which would inflict maximum damage.
‘‘It’s five of,’’ Jim said. ‘‘Please, Nina. Let’s go ahead. I have to put this behind me. I can’t stand to wait any longer. I want to start putting my life back together.’’
Nina, who had many of the same feelings rioting at the moment within her, shrugged. ‘‘All right. I guess I can handle it. I’ve already been through most of it once, as you say, and I have all the files. It’s just—’’
‘‘What?’’
‘‘I can’t believe he ran out on me.’’ The place was filling up with the buzz of people. A man gabbing into a cell phone strode by, looking important.
She turned away from the phone and walked with Jim toward the courtroom, thinking. She could go in there, make a scene, destroy any progress she had made, and stall for time. She could forfeit any advantage the tight time frame imposed upon the prosecution.
No. She couldn’t take the chance that the case might be compromised. She’d just have to do it without Artie.
Because of the blizzard outside, the prelim started twenty minutes late, and even so, some of the subpoenaed witnesses still hadn’t arrived. Marianne Strong called to say she couldn’t get out of her driveway, which seemed pretty funny; the trailblazing snowboard champ was marooned at home due to snow. Philip Strong, too, called and received permission to report the next day.
They wouldn’t have been called to the stand today anyway, since the entire morning and afternoon were taken up with a tedious rehash of the first prelim. Barbara laid her groundwork impeccably. It was just that there was so little groundwork to lay. The same ‘‘amendment’’ to the original coroner’s report was covered; the same descriptions of the rescue effort and Alex’s death at the hospital were entered into the record.
In the afternoon when Ed Dorf, Doc Clauson’s replacement, got to the later forensic findings of the pattern on Alex’s skin and the black cotton fibers, he flashed a state-of-the-art laser pointer and professional-looking exhibits, but the slickness and high-tech doodads were not enough to demolish the defense. Nina had had a few extra weeks to shape her cross-examination.
When the dust cleared, two things were obvious: that the presence of the fibers on the bottom of the Tecnicas was suspicious, but might have occurred when the boots came into contact with clothing in the back seat of Philip Strong’s car that night; and second, that the pattern on Alex’s skin was too faint to convince a jury that a ski boot had caused it, especially after Nina finished grilling Dorf with her own photos of the rock striations where Alex had fallen.
Barbara’s uncanny composure never wavered. She was magnificently clinical. Nina’s respect for her increased by a hundredfold as she administered blow after blow and Barbara fought back steadfastly. No rolling of eyes, no outbursts, no anger, just the facts, elegantly presented.
When Barbara had more to work with, no one would be able to beat her. She must have been angry to be handed this case at the last minute, and Collier had hinted once that her interest in him had been personal. If that were true, her confident presentation was all the more remarkable.
Inspired by Barbara’s performance and mellowed by this calm, academic atmosphere, Nina, too, found herself in top form. As the stronger party, she wielded a scalpel, not an axe, vivisecting official witnesses so neatly that they didn’t realize their limbs were being lopped off. They started off whole, normal, credible. When she finished, they were like cartoon figures run through a chain saw, arms and legs dropping away as they stood up.
At four o’clock, as they were all tiring, the lights dimmed in the courthouse. The storm had taken down a line somewhere. Flaherty gave the usual admonishments to the witnesses and adjourned in the light of a couple of emergency lanterns.
In her time at Tahoe Nina had greatly enjoyed the weather, the heat and piney scents of summer and the sunny snowfields of winter, but this was the worst blizzard she could remember. The Bronco was about a hundred feet away in the parking lot, but the storm presented a few problems she, along with the other people in the courthouse who wanted to leave, didn’t quite know how to handle.
First of all, the main doors to the outside had frozen. She waited along with everyone else for the back door to be dug out, almost half an hour, she and Jim off to one side of the hall, and the prosecutors and court personnel on the other. Then, the rarely used back path was two feet deep in the white stuff. As soon as the doors were opened, the wind tore her hat off and whipped her scarf around so she was again blind.
Led by a grim, chin-jutting deputy, they struggled like pitiful refugees toward vehicles buried up to the hoods in snow which had hardened into ice due to previous plowing. People scattered in all directions. Collier came over and helped Nina shovel out the Bronco. Through the snow, Nina could make out Jim twenty feet away doing the same thing on his car. Even Flaherty was out there with the deputy, trying to get the frozen door open on his Land Rover.
At last, they got the front door open partway and climbed into the compartment together. She turned on the windshield wipers and ripped off her hat, then turned the heater to full blast.
‘‘I’ve got to get to Matt’s,’’ she told Collier.
‘‘I’ll take you to the Reno airport.’’
‘‘He has a tow truck. If anybody can make it off the mountain, he can. He’s waiting for me.’’
‘‘Are you sure? I could—’’
‘‘No, really. I’ll be there in five minutes.’’
‘‘Call me from Reno so I know you mean it.’’ He kissed her and said, ‘‘Be safe,’’ then got out to go dig out his own car. She pulled out her cell phone.
‘‘I’m on my way,’’ she told Matt. ‘‘What’s the weather in Reno? Are they canceling Bob’s flight?’’
‘‘I just called,’’ Matt said. ‘‘Reno’s having some rain, nothing severe, and the planes are on time. Can you get here? I’ve got the tow truck gassed up and ready. I can come get you.’’
‘‘Let me get out onto the road and see.’’ Bob’s flight arrived in Reno at seven-thirty. She had thought she had plenty of time. Now she was starting to wonder.
Steering through the lot with her brights on, she picked up occasional silhouettes still digging out. Jim seemed to be gone. Barbara was just getting into her SUV, bedraggled and hatless.
So this was the mountains! She finally felt like a local. And her thoughts went back again a hundred and fifty years to the Donner Party, struggling up the Sierra in wagons amid a constant series of blizzards. What superhuman strength had brought them, mostly on foot, to seven thousand feet before giving up? How dreadful to see the summit but be stopped forever just below!
She got behind a snowplow as it progressed slowly along Pioneer Trail, avoiding the splash of snow it spit out as it went. Soon, the Bronco led a convoy of trucks and SUVs behind the plow. She hoped the guy at the wheel of the plow could see better than she could. If it fell into the sewer pond at Cold Creek, they would all cheerfully follow.
After another ten minutes of this, she saw the familiar turnoff for Pony Express and left her position on the trail, honking out a thanks to the plow.
The short side street where Matt lived had a slight uphill angle and was unplowed. At the end Matt had turned on his floodlight. Like any self-respecting local, he had an emergency generator. Turning the Bronco off on the right side of the road, she wrapped up as best she could and climbed out into the street, then slowly trudged toward that beacon while the storm raged around her in the dark.
At the warm house she was greeted with open arms. Andrea gave her a hug and lurched back, wiping wet hands on her slacks. She pushed Nina into the bedroom, saying, ‘‘Don’t come out until you’re stone dry.’’
When Nina emerged some minutes later in Andrea’s jeans and sweater, the family was finishing dinner. Matt was primed for action, wearing his striped ski hat with the tassel.
‘‘Ready?’’ he said. ‘‘It’s five-thirty. We’ll hustle.’’
‘‘Hustle? In this?’’
‘‘You’re with the King of Snow, Mr. Ten Cylinders, here. I’m the guy they call to dig everybody else out.’’
‘‘What’s that mean? Ten cylinders,’’ asked Nina.
‘‘It means, he wishes he had that many on his truck,’’ said Andrea. ‘‘Matt slept all day, so he’s very frisky now, but when he gets back, he’s going to work all night. We’ll see how masterful he’s feeling about four A.M.’’ She flipped the tassel on his hat as he passed by.
While Nina put on a spare parka, gloves, hat, and boots, Andrea went into the kitchen. ‘‘Here,’’ Andrea said when she returned, handing Nina a plastic grocery bag. ‘‘Supper.’’
‘‘You are the best.’’
‘‘How true.’’ She went over to Matt, unrecognizable in his warm duds, and said, ‘‘Don’t fall off Spooner Summit.’’
Matt said, ‘‘Keep the lamp lit and burnin’. ’’
He went first and started up the ignition and heater, holding the door for Nina a few minutes later. They put on their seat belts and settled in for the ride.
Nina had thought the Bronco was a good snow vehicle, but the tow truck was a complete snow hound. With the chains on its massive radials, the load of tools in the back, the sheer weight of the thing, she felt like they might actually make it. And they had to make it. What could Bob do at night in the airport if they didn’t? Call a taxi and find a hotel at his age?
‘‘See, this is why I didn’t want him to go,’’ Nina said, her mouth full of dinner as they bounced over a branch in the road. ‘‘He could cope with an average flight, but not an emergency like me not coming at all.’’
‘‘Hush up,’’ Matt said. ‘‘You eat, I’ll drive. No sweat.’’
It was ghostly. The truck shook from the furious gusts and the traffic lights were dark. The good news was, nobody was insane enough to be out except emergency personnel. The snowplow attached to the front of the truck did its job as needed, and they moved slowly through the white, torn landscape of fallen trees and red emergency lights along the invisible lake to the Spooner Pass turnoff, then over the summit, sliding on new ice, to the dry side of the Sierra.
‘‘Feeling better?’’ Matt said.
‘‘The food helps.’’
‘‘Is all this tension radiating out of you, about Bob? Or is it that case? The Strong case? Are you having problems?’’
‘‘Sorry I’m so preoccupied. No, it’s going very well. I’m wiping the floor with the prosecution,’’ Nina said.
‘‘Is that why you look so haunted?’’
‘‘You’re too damn smart, Matt.’’ It’s the Elephant Celebes, she thought, it’s turning its awful head, I just know it, and I’m afraid I won’t be able to stand it when I finally see its real face. She shook her head sharply to get the image out of it and tried to see ahead of the snow which seemed to be coming right at them onto the windshield.
‘‘You ought to be happy and carefree,’’ Matt said. ‘‘You just got married. Why don’t you take a honeymoon?’’
‘‘Already had it. The weekend in Hawaii.’’
‘‘That’s not a honeymoon! A honeymoon comes after’’—he saw her expression, and finished—‘‘after I shut my big mouth and drive. But, and this is a big but, a big whale of a but, a great big huge ugly but’’—now he was making her laugh—‘‘I’m worrying about you again. Keep your chin up and your eyes peeled, okay?’’
‘‘Okay.’’
They left the blizzard behind and emerged into rain on clear roads, riding down the mountain at fifty toward Reno.
‘‘See?’’ Matt said. ‘‘Nothing to it.’’
Nina looked back. A plume of snow blew off the roof. They were alone on the road. Below, Carson Valley twinkled.
She looked at her watch and was surprised to discover it was only six-thirty. They would make it.
And they did, with twenty minutes to spare. Aside from a few airport personnel and the ubiquitous slot machine players the airport was almost empty.
At the American Airlines gate they hung their wet outer clothing on chairs. ‘‘Coffee,’’ Matt said, and went off to hunt for some.
Nina sat down and got out her cell phone.
‘‘We made it,’’ she told Collier. He was staying at her cabin. ‘‘How is it up there?’’
‘‘Very romantic with all these candles and the emergency broadcast station lady crooning weather forecasts. I’m going out every hour to clear the driveway. The plows came by on the street a couple of hours ago. I’ve filled the front closet with wood. The only thing missing is you. Oh. Tony’s trying to get in touch with you. It’s amazing that the phone lines are still working, isn’t it?’’
‘‘What did he say?’’
‘‘He said it was urgent. He was calling from Reno.’’ Collier told her the number.
‘‘Okay, I’ll call him.’’
‘‘When do you think you’ll be back?’’
‘‘Ten or so. Matt’s working tonight. He’ll take us to the cabin.’’
‘‘Call me if you’ll be late.’’
She looked out the window. No sign of the plane, no announcement yet.
‘‘Hi, Tony.’’
‘‘Nina! Where are you?’’ Tony’s voice sounded slightly demented. She could hear the br-r-ring of the slots behind him.
‘‘Well, I know where you are,’’ she said. ‘‘I’m at the airport.’’
‘‘Perfect! Listen, I’ll be there in ten minutes to pick you up.’’
‘‘Oh, no, you won’t. I’m picking up my son here. He’s coming home after three weeks in Europe.’’
‘‘When will you be free?’’
‘‘I won’t be. There’s a blizzard going on up in the mountains, Tony. We have to get home as soon as we can.’’
‘‘Are you alone?’’
‘‘No. My brother’s with me.’’