"What is that file anyway?" she asked. "Are you working a case here?"

"Yes. A murder. It started in L.A. and came over this way. I have to go up into the desert today."

"What a nice convenience for you. Along the way you get to drop in here and scare your daughter."

"Come on, Eleanor, it was stupid and I'm an idiot but at least she didn't see anything."

"She could have. Maybe she did. Maybe she woke up and saw those dreadful pictures and then went back to sleep. She's probably having a horrible nightmare."

"Look, she hasn't moved all night. I can tell. She's been down for the count. It won't happen again, so can we just leave it at that?"

"Sure. Fine."

"Look, Eleanor, why don't you tell me about your night?"

"No, I don't want to talk about it. I just want to go to bed."

"I'll tell you something then."

"What?"

I hadn't planned on bringing this up but it all sort of snowballed and I knew I needed to tell her.

"I'm thinking about going back to my job."

"What do you mean, the case?"

"No, the cops. The LAPD has a program. Old guys like me can come back in. They're looking for experience. If I do it now I won't even have to go back to the academy."

She took a long drink of water and didn't respond.

"What do you think about that, Eleanor?"

She shrugged like she didn't care.

"Whatever you want to do, Harry. But you won't see your daughter as much. You'll get involved in cases and… you know how that goes."

I nodded.

"Maybe."

"And maybe it won't matter. She hasn't had you around for most of her life."

"And whose fault is that?"

"Look, let's not open that can of worms again."

"If I had known about her I would have been here. I didn't know."

"I know, I know. I'm the one. It's all my fault." "I'm not saying that. I'm-"

"I know what you're saying. You don't even have to say it."

We were both quiet for a moment, letting the anger ebb. I looked down at the floor.

"Maybe she could come over there, too," I said.

"What are you talking about?"

"What we talked about before. About this place. About her growing up here."

She shook her head very deliberately.

"And I haven't changed my mind about that. What do you think, that you're going to raise her by yourself? You, with middle-of-the-night call outs, long hours, long investigations, guns in the house, crime scene photos spread all over the floor. Is that what you want for her? You think that's better than Vegas?"

"No. I was thinking maybe you could come over there, too."

"Forget it, Harry. I'm not talking about this again. I'm staying here and so is Madeline. You make whatever decision is best for you but you don't make it for me and Maddie."

Before I could respond Marisol stepped into the kitchen, her eyes creased with sleep. She was wearing a white bathrobe with Bellagio written in script on the pocket.

"Very loud," she said.

"You're right, Marisol," Eleanor said. "I'm sorry."

Marisol went to the refrigerator and got out the water bottle. She poured herself a glass and then put the bottle away. She left the kitchen without further word. "I think you should go," Eleanor said to me. "I'm too tired to talk about this right now."

"All right. I'm just going to check on her and say good-bye."

"Don't wake her up."

"No kidding."

I went back into my daughter's bedroom. We had left the light on. I sat on the side of the bed closest to her and just watched her sleep for a few moments. Then I brushed back her hair and kissed her cheek. I smelled the scent of baby shampoo in her hair. I kissed her again and whispered good night. I turned off the light and then sat there for another couple minutes, watching and waiting. For what, I don't know. I guess maybe I was hoping Eleanor would come in and sit on the bed, too, that maybe we could watch our sleeping daughter together.

After a while I got up and turned the monitor on again. I left the room to head out. The house was quiet as I walked back through to the front. I didn't see Eleanor. She had gone off to bed, not needing to see me again. I pulled the front door closed and made sure it was locked as I went out.

The loud snap of steel on steel had a finality to it that ricocheted through me like a tumbling bullet.

At 8 that morning I was in my Mercedes in front of the lobby entrance of the Embassy Suites on Paradise Road. I had two large Starbucks coffees in the cup holders and a bag of doughnuts. I was freshly showered and shaved. I had changed the clothes I slept in. I had gassed up the car and maxed out my withdrawal limit at the station's ATM. I was ready for a day in the desert but Rachel Walling did not come out through the glass doors. After waiting five minutes I was about to call her when my phone rang first. It was her.

"Give me five minutes."

"Where are you?"

"I had to go into the FO for a meeting. I'm driving back now."

"What meeting?"

"I'll tell you when I see you. I'm on Paradise now."

"All right."

I closed the phone and waited, looking at the billboard on the back of a cab that was waiting in front of me. It was an advertisement for a floor show at the Riviera. It showed the beautifully proportioned rear ends of a dozen women standing side by side and naked. It made me think about the changing nature of Vegas and what had been mentioned in the Times article on the missing men. I thought about all the people who had moved here on the family ticket only to have that ticket punched with this and a thousand other billboards just like it after they got here.

A basic G-car-a Crown Victoria-pulled up next to me from the opposite direction and Rachel put down the window.

"You want me to drive?"

"I want to drive," I said, thinking it would give me a little slice of control over things.

She made no argument. She pulled the Crown Vic into a parking space and got into my car.

I didn't move the Mercedes.

"Are you going to drink both of those coffees?" she asked me.

"No, one's for you. Sugar's in the bag. They didn't have cream to go."

"I don't use it."

She lifted one of the coffees and drank from it. I looked forward, out through the windshield, then I checked the rearview. And I waited.

"Well," she finally said, "are we going?"

"I don't know. I think we need to talk first."

"About what?"

"About what is going on."

"What do you mean?" "What were you doing at the field office so early? What's going on, Agent Walling?"

She let out her breath in annoyance.

"Look, Harry, you are forgetting something here. This investigation is of high importance to the bureau. You could say the director is directly involved."

"And?"

"And so when he wants a ten a.m. briefing, that means us agents in Quantico and out in the field get together at nine a.m. to make sure we know what we're telling him and that there's not going to be blowback on anybody."

I nodded. Now I got it.

"And nine a.m. in Quantico is six a.m. in Vegas."

"You got it."

"So what happened at the ten? What did you all tell the director?"

"That's FBI business."

I looked at her and she was waiting with a smile.

"But I will tell you because you are about to tell me all of your secrets, too. The director is going to go public. It's too risky not to. It will look like a cover-up if this comes out later in uncontrolled fashion. It's all about managing the moment, Harry."

I put the car in drive and headed toward the parking lot exit. I had already plotted my route. I'd take Flamingo to the 15 and then a quick jog over to the Blue Diamond Highway. Then it would be a straight shot north to Clear.