Nothing showed up in Sandy’s stack or on Nina’s desk.

Sandy searched through the cabinet behind her. Nina moved over to the client area and restacked magazines, checking for anything that didn’t belong. They let the voice mail pick up the ever-ringing phone.

“Where’d you see the briefcase last? Maybe we can apply the eighteen-inch rule. Whatever you lost is almost always within eighteen inches of where you saw it last.”

“I saw it on the floor in the backseat of the Bronco.”

“And the key?”

“That’s a tough one. I keep it on a separate keyring and keep it handy because I use it all day long. I know I used it when I drove to the office yesterday morning.”

“Yesterday, during the day, when it was out in the parking lot, was the Bronco locked?”

“No. The CD player broke six months ago and we just took it out so I’ve been a little lax about locking up.”

“So. Could you have left your main car key in the Bronco yesterday?”

“It could have fallen just as I got out. You’re saying anybody could have been nosing around out there and found the key. But why not steal the truck then and there? Why wait until I drove it home?”

“Okay, then maybe you lost the car key somewhere else while you were running around town. Where were you?”

“At the courthouse. In Paul’s Mustang. Passaretti’s at the Y. The office. That’s it.”

“I’ll call the court administrator and get hold of the janitors. I’ll call Paul and have him search his car. And the owner of the restaurant. Have him search the place.”

“Yes. Thanks, Sandy.”

Sandy straightened up, turned, and put her hands on her hips. “Guess we’ll have to get out the old eighteen-inch ruler another time.”

“Check the library for the files one more time before we give up, will you?” Nina searched her office again. She went down the hall to the bathroom and looked around, or maybe she just went in there to catch her breath, regroup, because it had acted as a haven from turmoil so many times in the past for her. She walked outside to the parking lot, analyzing every step even though by now she was positive the briefcase had gone home with her and the car key was in someone else’s pocket.

The files were gone. Might as well quit wasting energy. She felt the cold edge of panic.

Nevertheless, a half hour later Nina was examining the closed files for the third time when Sandy touched her arm and said in a softer tone than usual, “They aren’t here.”

Nina sat in one of the orange client chairs. “Well, I’ll be doggoned. I will be doggoned. I have been robbed, Sandy.”

“Now what?”

“Soldier on. The Cruz hearing is in exactly”-she squinted at her watch-“one hour and fifteen minutes. Before you do anything else, Sandy, would you please call Kevin and ask him to bring his entire file? He’s got copies of all the main stuff. Dog-eared, coffee-stained, scribbled-on, ask him to bring it. I’m going into my office to try to reconstruct my closing argument.”

“You can take my car when you go.”

Nina got up.

“It’s an oldie but a goodie,” Sandy said. “Watch out for the transmission, though. It doesn’t like shifting gears.”

When she arrived at the courthouse, Nina called Sandy on her mobile phone. “Did you call Kevin Cruz?”

“He’ll meet you by the rocks.”

“Good.”

“His wife’s lawyer faxed us a supplemental witness list three minutes ago. You know who.”

Sandy had worked for Jeff Riesner once and loathed him so much she refused to say his name. In agreement with Nina about the insidious poison of the man, she even kept some compromising material she had on him in a safe place for self-protection, like an antidote to snake venom.

Nina had been trying not to think about Lisa’s attorney. Once again, his routine consisted of violating normal ethical standards, his version of a walk in the park. “He can’t do that! The hearing’s in an hour. Who’s on this list?”

“Just one new witness. I never saw the name before. A woman. Name’s Alexandra Peck. I just looked her up in the phone book and checked some Net directories. There are some Pecks in Tahoe, but her name is not listed.”

Nina said, “Oh, boy,” and rubbed her forehead. “This is not good. This is bad.”

“I figured it might be.”

“Does Riesner share even the barest bones of testimony he expects her to give?”

“What you’d expect. Matters relating to the ability of Respondent Kevin Cruz to care for the minor children.”

“I’ll talk to Kevin about her before court. Riesner has such diabolical instincts, Sandy. He knows Kevin won’t wait another day to get this settled and won’t let me ask for a continuance.”

“Who is this witness?” Sandy asked.

“I’ll deal with it.”

How could Riesner know about Ali Peck? Had he known for some time? Was he pulling a Riesner special, trying to kill her case with a last-minute, high-voltage shock? Or had he somehow learned about Ali within the past twelve hours, from her client-intake notes? Anything was possible. Riesner had means that put Nina’s to shame, and ends that would shame a squid.

A fantasy bloomed in her mind-Riesner following her home in the storm in his sleek black Mercedes, creeping around the Bronco, his dapper Italian loafers squishing through the puddles, stealing her car like a street thug. Almost funny, if you left his face out of the picture.

Or what about Lisa Cruz? She had been very, very angry at Nina in the courtroom the day before. Did she pick up Nina’s car keys?

Nina put aside her suspicions. She couldn’t find her vehicle right this minute. She needed to move on to a more immediate problem, discussing the unfortunate reappearance of Ali Peck with an overwrought client who was heading into the courtroom to face one of life’s decisive moments.

“That man better not be pulling something,” Sandy said, referring to Riesner.

“Our old buddy,” Nina said to Sandy. “Never far from our hearts.”

Sandy’s wrathful snort carried over the miles.

B ECAUSE SIXTY-FOOT-TALL FIR and pine trees towered over the two-story structure, the familiar brown and rustic El Dorado County Courthouse building sat in what seemed like perpetual shade, the better to cast a muted mood over its denizens. In the same building were housed not only the courtrooms and clerks and judges’ offices, but also the jail. Next door was the plate-glass window of the South Lake Tahoe Police Department. Across the courtyard another low building held various offices connected with county law enforcement, health, or the judicial system, including the Tahoe offices of the El Dorado County district attorney and the public defender’s office.

Locking Sandy’s car carefully, Nina tramped across wet grass to reach the mass of granite boulders erected to honor two Tahoe pioneers. Kevin Cruz sat in a tiny patch of sunshine on one of the large rocks smoking a cigarette.

“Hi, Kevin,” Nina said.

“Hi.”

They sat down on the bench and talked, Kevin firing up every two minutes, Nina wondering how to approach the bad news she carried and full of questions for him about Lisa.

Kevin had bulked up since his wife left him six months before. Like Officer Scholl, in perennial cop fashion, he wore impenetrable shades over his eyes. He didn’t look good today. He must have been to the barber, because his hair was so aggressively trimmed Nina could see pink scalp under the fair hair. His court clothes, a sport coat and slacks, looked unfinished without his usual nightstick appended. One of those men who look hopelessly phony in a necktie, he had settled for an open shirt under the jacket.

“You were brilliant yesterday,” Kevin was saying again.

“Kevin, there’s something you haven’t told me. Lisa’s got something personal against me.”

“Hey, you got what you needed to get out of her,” he said. “She got mad. She looked bad. She showed what a witch she can be.”