I stopped in the lobby to pick up my mail, an assortment of Christmas cards from friends scattered across the country mixed in with the usual bills. There were two messages on the answering machine. One was my mother, hoping I could change my schedule and join the rest of the family at their Caribbean island home for Christmas. She hadn't heard the news of my latest case, so I would plan to spend some time with her on the phone tomorrow. The other call was from Jake, and I dialed his cell phone number.

"Still at the studio?"

"Trying to wrap up the piece for tomorrow. Brian's going to lead with the Ugandan story on Sunday's Nightly News. We found some background information that puts a whole new spin on the assassination, and so far, it's an exclusive. How about you?"

"Wish I could say we were that far along. No spin, no leads. This is going to be a slow one. The administration closed down the school early for the holidays, so we're just treading water. Mercer's having a bunch of us over for a party tonight."

"Then you can hold out for a few more days till I get home?"

I was stretched out on the bed, phone to my ear, patting the empty space next to me. "Pretty lonely on your side of the mattress. Don't think I have any choice in the matter, do I? See if you can nab the assignment to do local traffic up here. Something unexciting that keeps you in my neighborhood all the time, okay?"

After we hung up, I called a few of my friends to say hello, wrapped some of the gifts I planned to take to the office on Monday, and dressed for the evening.

When Mike and I arrived at Mercer's house in Queens, the door was open and there were fifteen or twenty people clustered around the bar in his den. The first person to greet us was Vickee Eaton, a second-grade detective who worked at One Police Plaza, in the office of the deputy commissioner for public information.

Mike and Vickee were the same age and had gone through the academy together. He had introduced her to Mercer when the latter's brief marriage to a girl he'd grown up with had ended. Vickee and Mercer dated for almost five years, and were married for less than two when she walked out on him without any reason that he could articulate to us. When I saw her once thereafter, at a press event the commissioner held at headquarters to which Battaglia and I had been invited, she told me she just couldn't deal with the kind of danger Mercer was exposed to in the field. Vickee's father had been a cop, and had been killed on the job when she was fifteen. He was the reason she had gone into the department, and even more, the reason she feared how being a cop could be a death warrant as well.

I thought I had masked my surprise at seeing Vickee, but she read me clearly. "You haven't heard?"

I looked at Mike, who shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't go to visit Mercer in the hospital-too many of you guys around for me to get down on my knees and apologize for how stupid I'd been." She was talking about the shooting in August, when the three of us had been investigating the murder of an art dealer, and Mercer had almost been killed as a result. "But I went over to Spencer's house immediately and kind of sat vigil with him that whole first week."

"That old dog really kept it under his vest." Mike and I had been in constant contact with Mercer's widowed father, Spencer Wallace, who lived for his only son. He never told us Vickee had reentered their lives.

Mercer had seen us come in and was making his way across the room with two glasses of champagne in his hands. He gave one to each of us, and Mike turned to pass his off to Vickee. She waved a finger at him and picked up a soft drink she'd been working on when we came in. "No alcohol for me. Not quite my third month yet."

Mike grabbed her in a bear hug, champagne sloshing from the flute and covering his lapel. "You mean that doctor got Mercer's plumbing back in order? Damn, you are my idol, m'man. Here I'm thinking you need all this bed rest and you're going to get out on three-quarters 'cause some asshole disabled you, and if you can ever be lucky enough to shoot at all again you'd be shooting blanks. While the whole time you're just practicing on Vickee, making love-"

I hadn't seen Mercer this happy in more than a year. He was trying to talk over Mike and explain that he and Vickee had decided to get married. "It's just going to be my dad, and her mother and two sisters this time. And both of you. New Year's Day, in Judge Carter's chambers. Will you be there?"

"Sure, we'll be there. Long as you don't do it during any of the bowl games, okay?"

The house was filled with friends and family. Mercer's team from Special Victims had all come to celebrate, and we tried not to talk cases as we ate and danced and drank. By eleven o'clock, I could see that Vickee was tired and trying to stay off her feet. I pried the third helping of lasagna out of Mike's hand and suggested we get on the road.

"The Final Jeopardy! category is Astronomy. Any takers?" Silence. "Blondie, make a stab at it? Could be something in it for you." I laughed and tugged at his jacket sleeve. "What is December twenty-first?" Mike asked aloud to no one in particular as I tried to pull him toward the door. "The winter solstice, ladies and gentleman. Shortest day of the year, but the longest night. Make good use of it-I certainly intend to."

Mercer walked us to the door and held it open as we said good night. "If your reputation wasn't shot before, Ms. Cooper, it's gone now. What are you doing for the solstice? You need Jake up here-enough of this toughin' it out alone. We've all been doing that too long."

"If I stopped to worry about every time Mike opened his mouth, they'd have to institutionalize me. I'm so happy for both of you. What a lucky little baby that's going to be."

We walked down the path and up the street to Mike's car. For most of the ride back to the city, I was quiet. We came through the Thirty-fourth Street tunnel, then Mike swung onto the FDR Drive going uptown. The cold spell seemed to be interminable, and I stared over at the sparkling lights of the bridges crossing the East River.

Off to the right, the forbidding outline of a ruined building loomed against the dark sky, covered with frozen snow and icicles hanging from empty window frames.

"What are you thinking about? Where'd you go?"

"Just daydreaming. Thinking that's the most beautiful building in New York."

"Which one?"

"That abandoned hospital." I pointed to the southern tip of the island in the river. "It's the only landmarked ruin in the city. Built by the same guy who designed St. Patrick's Cathedral,

James Renwick."

"Y'know, you can change the subject and create a distraction better than anyone on earth."

"I didn't know we had a subject. The solstice?"

"I know why you're brooding, Coop." Mike exited the Drive at Sixty-first Street and stopped at the first light. "You're thinking about Mercer and Vickee. And the baby."

"I'm not brooding."

"Makes you think about the direction of your own life, doesn't it? Family, careers, sort of what the purpose of-"

"Don't go getting all Hamlet on me tonight, Mikey. I'm thrilled for them. He's always been in love with Vickee and I think it's perfect that they've gotten back together. I really wasn't doing any heavy thinking."

"Well, you ought to do some." We were getting closer to my apartment now, and I was shifting my weight in the seat. "How much longer you gonna stay at this, Coop? Run around playing cops and robbers with us in the middle of the night? Now you've got a guy who's mad for you, plus you could name your own price at a law firm, or start one up, for that matter. Shit, you could hang it all up and have some kids. Little news jocks."

"This is all about you, Mr. Chapman." I tensed and fidgeted as we neared the driveway. "Sounds like Mercer's lifestyle changes appeal to you more than they do to me. He was getting anxious to settle down. I doubt he ever got over Vickee walking out the first time. Besides, he's forty-I'm only thirty-five-"