“Andy, let’s wind this up.” Hammer walked in. “I suppose it’s too late to get this in the paper for tomorrow.”

“Yes, chief. The city edition deadline was hours ago,” Brazil replied, glancing at his watch, and startled that she would want a word of this in the paper.

“I’m going to need you to help me and have to trust that you will, even after what happened with Channel Three,” she said.

There was no one Brazil would rather assist.

Hammer looked at the clock on the wall, in despair. It was almost three A.M. She had to get to the hospital, whether Seth liked it or not, and she needed to be up in three hours. Hammer’s body did not appreciate all-nighters anymore, but she would make it. She always did. Her plan was the best she could devise under circumstances which were truly extreme and upsetting. She knew tomorrow’s news would bristle with Seth’s bizarre shooting and what it might imply. She could not preempt the television and radio stations, but at least could straighten out the facts the following day with a true, detailed account by Brazil.

Brazil was silent and stunned as he sat in the passenger’s seat of Hammer’s impeccable Crown Victoria. He took notes while she talked. She told him all about her early life and why she had gone into law enforcement. She talked about Seth, about what a support he had been as she was fighting her way through the ranks of what was truly a male militia. Hammer was exhausted and vulnerable, her personal life in shambles, and she had not been to a therapist in two years. Brazil had caught her at a remarkable time, and he was moved and honored by her trust. He would not let her down.

“It’s a perfect example of the world not allowing powerful people to have problems,” Hammer was explaining as she drove along Queens Road West, beneath a canopy of great oak trees. “But the fact is, all people have problems. We have tempestuous and tragic phases in relationships we don’t have time enough to tend to, and we get discouraged and feel we have failed.”

Brazil thought she was the most wonderful person he had ever met. “How long have you been married?” he asked.

“Twenty-six years.”

She had known the night before her wedding that she was making a mistake. She and Seth had united out of need, not want. She had been afraid to go it alone, and Seth had seemed so strong and capable back then.

As he lay on his stomach in the E.R., after X-rays and scrubbing and being rolled all over the place, Seth wondered how this could have happened. His wife had once admired him, valued his opinion, and laughed at his witty stories. They were never much in bed. She had far more energy and staying power, and no matter how he might have wanted to please, he simply could not carry her same tune, didn’t have as many pages, usually was snoring by the time she’d returned from the bathroom, ready for the next act.