Page 77 of Thin Ice

"So what happens next?" Nolan asked.

"It goes to counsel today. The league's people run Reis's placement of her in the Tarn machinery. They will request records, including the names of the alumni. They'll file a subpoena for the carrier logs that tie the Tierney call to a timeline. It's not ours anymore, Nolan. It's no longer just three people trying to formulate a theory."

I understood what he told us, but it didn't sit quite right. Nolan had walked into a room and pried open a crack in the entire apparatus. Now, he was supposed to put it all out of his head and play for a Stanley Cup.

"One more thing," Michael said. "There's been action already this morning."

"What's that?" I asked.

"Tarn's gone dark. The website is down, and their appointments system is offline. It looks like a standdown. Somebody seems to have decided the smart move is to stop, cut losses, and lawyer up. "

"So the threat's off," Nolan said.

"The acute threat is receding, yes," Mac said. "That is good news, and this is the point where I tell both of you not to change anything. Elias, you cover Nolan tonight like nobody stood down. Doyle will run the building the same way he has since Game One."

"Understood."

We ended the call. "How do you feel?" I asked.

Nolan offered a half-smile. "Like I finally said it out loud. Ask me again after the game."

He ate at one, off a plate instead of a tray, and he napped at two, following the game-day schedule.

Michael sent an update at two-thirty. The stand-down was holding. One more piece made me tense slightly. "The driver remains unidentified," he said.

He woke at ten to four. He padded to the living room in bare feet.

"You didn't lie down," he said.

"I don't sleep on game days, it turns out."

"I've said we should do the botanical gardens when the circus leaves town. You need to ride up inside the Arch, too, if you've never done it."

"Nolan—"

"Don't. I mean it, and I don't want to hear any objections until after we win the Cup." He reached out for my hand, and I let him take it. "There's also a standing thing I do at Eileen Danaher's on off-days. You should come. She makes a cookie that'll ruin you for what other people bake."

The message was clear. Nolan was building an after.

"I'd like that," I said. It was the only honest answer I could give.

He went to the front closet and reached for his game suit hanging there.

"Come on," he said. "I've got a building full of people who've waited forty years, and I told Wes he'd get every last ounce of me."

***

I drove us out of the Central West End and down toward the river. Every window was blue. The buses were wrapped in blue. The fountains sprayed blue water.

Nolan watched it all go by and said nothing. When we arrived at the arena early for warmup, a massive crowd already surrounded it. I took us into the players' lot underground.

In the morning, I feared that I would have to leave Nolan alone in the lair of a company with a body count. Now, I was turning him over to the safest building in Missouri. For the next five or six hours, a crowd nearing twenty-thousand would surround him with their love.

Warmup was still running when I made my way up to a section entrance on the north side. On the ice, the two teams circled their own halves of the rink, never crossing the center line.

Pucks bounced off the boards. Misha stood in his crease, taking shots one at a time. Nolan circled wide, leaning on his good side, giving nothing away. I watched him for the thing only I could see, and I couldn't find it. He'd successfully buried it.

A woman appeared beside me. "That one learned my name three years ago and hasn't forgotten it."