Click.

The man looked from her to Bruno. Suddenly he got to his feet, dropped some money on the table and hurried off.

Dina wanted to follow him, but a glance over her shoulder told her Bruno was in no state to be left alone. Movement out of the corner of her eye turned into a waitress heading for the vacated table, no doubt to recover the money Wilhelm had left under his glass. The glass! She ran, getting to the glass just before the waitress.

"What are you planning on doing with that glass, young lady?" Dee Fisher, the co-owner of Tip's demanded.

Dina edged closer and whispered. "I need to call the police. That man might be one of the men responsible for murdering Officer Harris." She could have mentioned the dead girl and the other officer, but they were both down-timers, and even after all this time a lot of up-timers, especially those around Mrs. Fisher's age, didn't seem to see them as being equal to up-timers.

"What makes you think he might be one of the people responsible?"

"Me and Bruno saw them." Dina immediately realized what she'd said and hastily looked around to see who might have heard. No one seemed to have heard, so she edged closer. "But you mustn't tell Mom that."

That drew a grin from Dee before she glanced at the glass. "You're thinking of fingerprints?"

Dina nodded.

"Okay then, you look after the glass while I call the cops."

"Thank you, Mrs. Fisher."

Dina had a box seat to watch Georg Meisner, the senior forensics technician, first lift the fingerprints from the glass and then compare them with the prints he'd taken from Car Four.

"Well," he said to the eager ears surrounding him some time later, "it looks like we have a match."

"You're sure?" Press Richards asked.

"Pretty sure, Herr Chief Richards, I've got nine points of similarity." Georg pointed to a spot on one of the prints with a pencil. "That loop there matches the loop here. And. "

"Okay, so you're pretty sure of a match. That means we have a suspect at last." Press smiled at Dina. "Good work." Press turned his attention to the six by three inch photograph of a man looking straight at the camera. "Is that as big as you can make it?"

"Yes," Georg said. "The man's face is actually a very small part of the negative. I believe Fraulein Frost was over fifty feet from the subject when she took the photograph."

Dina nodded that this was correct.

"Right, run off a couple of dozen copies and we'll start circulating them." Press turned to Dina. "We owe you a heap of thanks. I don't know how we can ever repay you."

"Cash, gold, negotiable bonds." Dina smiled at the shocked look on Chief Richards' face. She'd been dying for a chance to use that phrase ever since she heard her Aunt Lettie use it. It'd sounded so cool.

Marcus was standing on the sideline cheering Bailey's Little League Soccer team on with the rest of the parents. Right then Bailey emerged from the melee of nearly twenty nine-year-olds with the ball at his feet, jinked past the goalie, and dribbled the ball into the goal. He turned, proud as could be, to search for his family. The moment he located them he ran straight for them.

"I scored! I scored!" Bailey said as he launched himself at Marcus.

Marcus caught him, and hugged his son. "You were brilliant. The way you ran round that goalie, he didn't stand a chance."

"Daddy!"

Okay, so maybe he was spreading it on a bit thick, but he was proud of his son. He ruffled Bailey's hair and sent him off to rejoin his team.

"It was a good thing you were here to see his first goal," Jocelyn said.

"Yeah, I wouldn't have missed it for anything, but doesn't Britney have a pony club gymkhana next week?" he asked, looking down at his daughter.

"You remembered!" Britney squealed.

"Of course I remembered." He crouched down to her eye level. "Would I forget my favorite girl's big competition?"

Britney threw her arms around his neck. "You're the best daddy in the world."

Marcus hugged his little girl tightly, then swung her over his head so she could sit on his shoulders.

He was still carrying her on his shoulders when the final whistle was blown and everyone started to move towards the bus stop.

"Have either of you seen this man?"

Marcus glanced over to see a police auxiliary handing Jocelyn a photograph. He looked over her shoulder. It wasn't a great photograph, but anybody who knew Wilhelm Kindorf would easily recognize him. "Sorry, he doesn't look familiar. What's he wanted for?"

The auxiliary shrugged. "I don't know. We were just issued the photographs and sent out to see if anybody knew who he was and where he might be found."

Jocelyn handed the photograph back. "Sorry, I don't recognize him either. Is he dangerous?"

The auxiliary nodded. "That much we have been told. If you see him, don't approach him. Don't even try to follow him. Just call the police."

"We will," Marcus said.

They boarded the bus. Marcus found a seat for Jocelyn and the kids, but he had to stand. On the trip home he constantly looked down on his family. Every now and again Jocelyn would look up and smile at him. He thought about that photograph of Wilhelm and what it could mean. If the police caught Wilhelm, then he stood to lose everything he held dear. He had to do something about the Kindorfs before the police found them. The trouble was, he didn't know where they were staying.

"A penny for them!"

The inquiry jerked him back the present. He tried to smile at her, but his problems seemed to be growing. "They aren't worth that much."

"Then you won't mind telling me for free."

"I've forgotten," he said, hoping to put her off. But for some reason Jocelyn was like a dog with a bone. She kept trying to get him to tell her what he'd been thinking. How could he tell her he was worried about being arrested for murder? He could feel his temper rising.

"Come on, tell me."

He snapped. He didn't quite hit her, but Jocelyn saw the intent in his eyes and drew back in horror, and Marcus bolted. The driver must have seen him in the mirror, because he was braking and had the door open before Marcus got to it. He ran from the bus as if his life depended on it.

Ten minutes later Marcus came out of his blind panic and started to worry about where he was. Back up-time he'd known Grantville like the back of his hand, but there had been a lot of new buildings go up since then. One thing was clear. He was not in one of the more salubrious areas of Greater Grantville. He looked around for landmarks. Locating a hill he thought he recognized, he worked out the direction he needed to take to get back to the main road and started walking. He wasn't lonely. He had the memory of the white, terrified faces of his family in that moment of anger to keep him company.

The sun was starting to set behind the hills and the street was starting to get dark as he turned yet another corner in his search for the main road. He heard a voice, and located a uniform. Never had he been so glad to see a policeman. He hurried towards the man.

He was close to the policeman when suddenly two men appeared at a door. The policeman ordered them to halt, and they responded by opening fire with hand guns. Marcus dived for cover just as the policeman was hit and fell, spilling his revolver as he hit the ground. Marcus thought about the two armed men heading his way and dived for the revolver.