“What about me?” Nina asked.
“We’re going for a walk around town, of course. It’s traditional on a holiday.”
“But is it safe?”
“You yourself said nobody but the police knew we were in Wiesbaden.”
“Right.”
“And I’ll keep you safe, Nina.” He pulled her coat out of the closet and held it out for her.
She put her arm through the sleeve, trembling slightly at his touch. “I guess we could. Bob, don’t you want to come?”
“You go ahead, Mom.”
Kurt held open the door. “See you in a while,” he called to Bob and Elliott.
“Later,” Bob called from the kitchen.
The light was fading. “Let’s go toward the park,” Kurt said. “You’re not too cold?”
“Me? No.” They walked down the street, the stores still open, matrons choosing fruits and vegetables for dinner. At the end of the street was a green park full of tall trees. Old fellows in overcoats behind tightly leashed and well-behaved little dogs walked among the lindens.
“Do you often come here?” Nina asked.
“All the time. I’d like to have a dog, but the landlady’s afraid of them. Franz keeps me busy, though, always trying to get out. He’s a hunter. You don’t want to know some of the funky prey he’s brought me.”
“This whole morning he lolled innocently on the windowsill.”
“His eyes narrowed, secretly on the alert for danger,” Kurt insisted. They both laughed at the idea of his slumbering cat on the lookout. “Is this really your first trip to Europe?”
“’Fraid so. I always wanted to go to Paris to see the Picabias at the Musée d’Orsay. I took French in high school and I love French wine, so I meet the minimum qualifications, I believe.”
“You should go.” He closed his eyes. “I see it all. Your pretty hair hanging down your back, bugging you because it’s come loose; drinking too much St. Emilon in a cafe on the Ile de la Cité, inside to hide from the rain, a good man holding your hand, confessing his love across the table while you flirt with the Moroccan waiter.”
“Don’t forget the part where I’m making a fool of myself ordering frog legs in aspic when all I really wanted was a turkey on rye.”
“You’re many things, Nina, but never foolish.”
What presumption, she thought. You don’t know me anymore. Then she smiled to herself. Here she was being foolish, annoyed by what amounted to a compliment. “Oh, you’ve forgotten.”
“I haven’t forgotten anything,” he said seriously. “I haven’t forgotten we talked about Paris before, and that I promised to take you there.”
They walked on in silence as a soft mist fell between the trees along the parkway.
“Do you have to go back right away?” They had reached an allée of trees, the path civilized and crunchy beneath their feet. The twilight lingered.
“I’d like to stay,” Nina said. “But I have to help take out this asshole. This has to stop.”
“Nina, I have no right to say this, but I feel compelled. Don’t go back to Tahoe. You’ve almost been killed twice. This killer’s on a rampage, trying to eliminate everyone, witnesses, lawyers. You can’t tell what he might do.”
“I’m a big girl,” Nina said.
But Kurt didn’t accept that. “You’re a young woman and you are a mother. You don’t belong in the line of fire. Is this how it always is for you? This stress? This worry?”
“No, of course not. We have a life,” Nina said. “We have a dog, a big one. He could teach Franz a few things about bringing down funky prey. My brother and sister-in-law-I’m crazy about them. Bob loves his cousins.”
“You know, Bob’s very protective of you.” He said this as though it had great significance.
“He’s fourteen, just a kid. I watch out for him. What are you getting at, Kurt?”
“He doesn’t want to let you out of his sight.”
“He has so much heart. He doesn’t get incredible grades-he’s not like Silke Kilmer, you know? He’s a complete, perfect, normal human being. He goes to school. He plays ball. He loves his dog…”
“You don’t have to tell me. I wonder if you have any idea how well I know him and how intensely I love him.”
“Stop. Kurt. Please, stop. You make me feel guilty.” She stopped and faced him.
“He has your focus and pragmatism, Nina. Your depths of emotion.”
“He has your musical talent.”
“Keep after him with lessons.”
“He looks like you.”
“He reminds me of you. He reminds me of us.”
An earthquake of feelings shook through her. She touched the scar on his cheek. He flinched.
“Sorry.”
“I try to forget it’s there.”
“Did I ever tell you,” she said, wishing she could bring him up to date on who she was now but afraid they had lived too many years apart ever to make up for the lapses, “that I was shot a few years ago, before you came back into Bob’s life? It happened during my first murder case, when I had just set up my practice at Tahoe. A bullet brushed my lung. I hate the scar.”
“Poor Nina,” Kurt said. He appeared angry, but after a minute or so, during which he put his hands in and out of his pockets a few times, balling them up and releasing them, he finally said, “When you’re young, you can’t foresee the amount of tragedy, how much baggage you’ll carry into adulthood. No wonder we all seem so serious and burdened to the young.”
“It’s true.” The girl she was saw sweet things ahead. The hardships, like car crashes, struck so suddenly there was no preparing.
“I try to remember the alternative and appreciate that all I received was a scar,” Kurt said. “But I don’t like being marked.”
“That’s it. You never forget. You just don’t get over it. I’m really feeling bad about involving you in this violence. I put you at risk. I didn’t realize-”
“It’s everywhere,” Kurt said. “Don’t worry, I can handle it. It’s you and Bob I’m concerned about.” He put his arm around her.
“Don’t,” she said, shrugging it off. “You watch out,” she went on. “I’ve been through a lot lately. I’m not myself.”
They came to a pond where swans glided, bordered by a grassy yard with a carousel. They sat down on an iron bench and watched a few kids go round and round. A few feet away she saw a gaily decorated cart selling hot dogs. It was just another November weekday in Germany, not a holiday for them, not many people about.
Cold, she held her arms around her chest. Kurt had picked up a stick from somewhere and begun to draw lines on the gravel.
“So this is Germany.”
“It’s the Kurpark. We have a casino here in Wiesbaden, pretty famous. I’d take you under other circumstances.”
“What time is the flight?”
“Eight-forty. Listen, Nina, about the flight. I have to tell you something. It’s hard to say.”
“Well? What could be so difficult after-”
“I only bought two tickets.”
Puzzled, Nina said, “What about Elliott? He’s coming back with us.”
“He’s going back with you. Bob isn’t.”
Nina shook her head. “No, no, no,” she said. “This is crazy. You can’t take Bob away from me.”
“He asked me how he could get a gun when he goes back.”
“What?”
“He said he would protect you that way.”
“Oh, no.” But she thought about the bolos, Bob’s relentless rock-throwing. “No.”
“You’ve put yourself in a line of fire twice in the past month,” Kurt said. “What if Bob’s beside you next time, sick with worry about you, immature. Trying to be the man in your life.”
“It’s not like that with us. I’m the parent. He knows that I’d do anything to keep him safe. He’s fine!”
“Anything?” Kurt sounded almost, not quite, casual as he asked what amounted to a piercing question. “I called the high school and talked to the vice principal. She faxed me a permission form to allow Bob to take a leave until after Christmas vacation. She’ll work with his teachers. They can send him lesson plans so he won’t fall behind.”