CHAPTER 16The green-tinged oxidized copper roof of the cupola struck Mara as almost dainty atop the hulking block of dark gray that comprised Pioneer Courthouse in downtown Portland. Copper made her think of the Chronicle, and she rubbed her palm across the right pocket of her jeans where she carried it, when she carried it. The pocket was empty. She, Ping and Detective Bohannon stood at the corner of Southwest Morrison Street and Sixth Avenue, waiting for a mass of people who had disembarked from the MAX train to clear out of their path.
Diagonally from where they stood, the sea of brick that made up Pioneer Courthouse Square lay before them. Directly ahead, on the west side of the plaza, the bricks swept up in a wave of wide curving steps that wrapped around, turning the square into a m
