Chapter 252. What The Cameras Want.
SEDONA
The photograph was everywhere by Monday morning.
Nick, standing in the third row, both arms raised over his head, his face caught at the exact moment recognition had broken open into something unguarded and enormous. A sports photographer had gotten it, not paparazzi exactly, not at first, just someone covering the bracket who happened to be positioned correctly when a six-year-old's whole body went still and then erupted into joy.
It should have stayed a sports photograph.
It didn't stay that way.
Maria called at seven, before I'd even seen it myself.
"It's everywhere," she said, with the flat efficiency she brought to bad news as easily as good. "Someone identified Nick. Someone connected the dots to the custody case; it's not hard. The f
