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was going through. But he left college to help his family beforehis dad died that spring. We talked and texted after, but I haven’t seen him since.”
    “What’s his name?” Ryan asked.
    “Kieran Mullaney. He left a message, and it doesn’t sound good. I’d heard he was working out at Hanford. You remember that explosion last fall?”
    Ryan nodded.
    “I think maybe he was in it. All I know so far from his message is that he thinks he was exposed to radiation. Apparently he started a lawsuit and his lawyer’s withdrawn right before trial. He’s looking for a new lawyer with civil experience—product liability if possible. I’ll call him later today, but I wanted to talk to you first.”
    Ryan looked up at a trio of gulls fluttering only a few feet away. Biding his time, he watched their aerial choreography of begging—then picked up a French fry and flipped it in the air. One gull stabbed at the offering, catching it in its beak.
    Emily was waiting for an answer. “I could make a few calls if you’d like,” he said carefully.
    Her face was stony. It wasn’t the response she’d hoped for. “With your experience and all, I wanted to tell him you’d take a look at it, Dad,” she said. “He sounded pretty desperate. I know it’s tough jumping in so late, but Melissa told me you’re not as busy these days.”
    So Emily’s still in touch with Melissa, he thought . . . curious. Then he considered her request. Rescuing a case in the late stages of demise—any trial lawyer’s definition of torture. And stepping back into the gladiator ring—his own definition of torture. Besides, despite her words, Emily couldn’t imagine the price of jumping into a case like this at the last minute—the hours and the pace. Like zero to sixty in three seconds. And there usually was a good reason a client and lawyer divorced on the courthouse steps: attorneys quitting last minute were one of nature’s warning signs to the rest of the bar to stay away.
    “You know, Ems,” he began, “I’m sure your friend would be better served with an attorney from eastern Washington. They know the judges, the lay of the land. They know opposing counsel.”
    His daughter’s voice was part impatience, part plea. “Dad, I’ve got a feeling he’s tried that. He wouldn’t call me out of the blue if he hadn’t already tried to land other lawyers himself. Won’t you just look at it? You should have heard how he sounded.”
    She looked him in the eye. “I’ve got a lot of leave, and Frank told me I’ve got to take it,” she went on. “I could even ask for a leave of absence if that wasn’t enough. I thought if you took the case, maybe you and I could work together on it.”
    The breeze off Puget Sound was chilly, especially as the sun drifted behind a low bank of clouds.
    If they’d been in touch, he would already have told her he was easing out of the practice. Carolyn’s life insurance made every day in the office a choice, and he was choosing to stay away. If he’d told her that before, she might not have believed him—but it would have been out there. If he raised it now, it would just sound like an excuse not to help her.
    He looked back at Emily. Oh, those eyes. Reminding him how little he’d been around. Enticing him with the possibility of a détente between the two of them—or better. Broadcasting a belief, despite her words, that it would be as simple as driving together over the mountains, picking up the file, and marching into the courthouse to save the day.
    Ryan pulled his sport coat tighter against the chill. He did owe her. Missed family dinners, recitals: the list would stretch to Tacoma. And when he was home, still mentally elsewhere. Then throwing himself into Carolyn’s care like it was another case he could win—deserting a daughter to carry the weight of what they both were losing alone.
    But Emily was chasing a ghost, expecting him to save the day. He’d been putting his career in the rearview