The Chronology Protection Case

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Carl put the call through just as I was packing up for the day. “She says she’s some kind of physicist,” he said, and although I rarely took calls from the public, I jumped on this one.

“Dr. D’Amato?” she asked.

“Yes?”

“I saw you on television last week—on that cable talk show. You said you had a passion for physics.” Her voice had a breathy elegance.

“True,” I said. Forensic science was my profession, but cutting edge physics was my love. Too bad there wasn’t a way to nab rapist murderers with spectral traces. “And you’re a physicist?” I asked.

“Oh yes, sorry,” she said. “I should introduce myself. I’m Lauren Goldring. Do you know my work?”

“Ahm…” The name did sound familiar. I ran though the Rolodex in my head, though these days my computer was becoming more reliable than my brain. “Yes!” I snapped my fingers. “You had an article in Scientific American last month about some Hubble data.”

“That’s right,” she said, and I could hear her relax just a bit. “Look, I’m calling you about my husband—he’s disappeared. I haven’t heard from him in two days.”

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