Into Thin Air
by
Karen Leabo


Dear Reader,

Welcome to Silhouette Intrigue'N!  If you're in the mood for a sexy,
rugged LAWMAN (and who wouldn't be!) then meet Dan Donovan in Sworn to
Silence.  He gets rescued by Intelligence Officer Erin Meyer--and as
author Vickie York worked in intelligence herself, you can understand
where she got that idea from!

The disappearance of two young girls prompts a passionate liaison
between Detective Caroline Triece and her new partner Austin Lomax in
Into Thin Air by Karen Leabo.  Also, look out for Twice Burned from
Pamela Burford, the second book in the DOUBLE DARE series.  Zara
Sutcliffe, the wild twin, gets into trouble with ex-FBI agent Logan
Pierce... "What could be more romantic and mysterious than travelling
in time to meet your man?  That's what happens in the first TIMELESS
LOVE story entitled The Desperado by favourite Intrigue author Patricia
Rosemoon

We're sure you'll love all February's Intrigues, so happy reading!

The Editors

KAREN LEABO

DID YOU PURCHASE THIS BOOK WITHOUT A COVER?

If you did, you should be aware it is stolen property as it was
reported unsold and destroyed by a retailer.  Neither the author nor
the publisher has received any payment for this book.

All the characters in this book have no existence outside the
imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone
bearing the same name or names.  They are not even distantly inspired
by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents
are pure invention.

All Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in
part in any form.  This edition is published by arrangement with
Harlequin Enterprises H B. V. The text of this publication or any part
thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording,
storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the
written permission of the publisher.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of
trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated
without the prior consent of the publisher in any form of binding or
cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar
condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent
purchaser.

Silhouette and Colophon are registered trademarks of Harlequin Books'
S.A."  used under licence.

First published in Great Britain 1998

Silhouette Books, Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road,

Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR

Karen Leabo 1995

ISBN 0 373 07619 3

Printed and bound in Great Britain by Mackays of Chatham PLC, Chatham

Other novels by Karen Leabo Silhouette Desire

Close Quarters

Lindy and the Law

Unearthly Delights

The Cop

Ben

Feathers and Lace

Twilight Man

Megan's Miracle

For Carla Cassidy,

who knows how to motivate me.

Prologue

The screams lasted long into the night.

Terri Zamasko cuffed her knees up against her grossly swollen abdomen
and stuck a thumb into her mouth, something she hadn't done since she
was five.  But she wasn't just scared now; the fear was about to
swallow her up.  For the first time since she'd been brought into the
home five, or maybe six, months ago, she'd lost hope that someone would
find her, would rescue her.

She had also stopped believing anything Odell said.  If the old witch
really cared about anyone but herself, she wouldn't have let that
girl--whoever she was--keep on screaming.

Marcy.  Yeah, that's who it sounded like; Marcy was the blond girl with
the chubby face who cried a lot.  She lived in the room directly below
Tern's.  Marcy was the only one who had been here longer than Terri
herself, and she was as big as a house.  Yeah, the screamer had to be
Marcy.

The tuckns had started right after dinner.  Terri didn't know what time
it was now, but she could tell from the passage of the moon outside her
tiny, barred window that it must be late.

She wondered if she would scream like that when her time came.  How
much longer did she have--a month, may he two?  Odell was some kind of
nurse or something, and she did cursory physical examinations of the
girls every so often, but she never answered any questions.  Terri had
come here in July, that much she knew, and it was getting close to
Christmas.  So she had two more months at the most.  She had only that
much more time to figure a way out of here.  But she'd been racking her
brain ever since she got here, and she'd exhausted every possibility,
or at least the obvious ones.

Even before her body had become big and unwieldy, she hadn't possessed
the strength to overcome Odell.  Terri had tried more than once to
tackle the mountain of a woman, hoping to wrest the shotgun out of her
grasp.  It was like running at a brick wall.  She had earned herself
bruised knuckles, several painful slaps and uncounted days in the
"dungeon" for her trouble.

Even if she could overpower Odell and clear the chain-link fence topped
with barbed wire, Terri had little chance of making it to freedom.
Odell had two dogs, a bloodhound and a vicious German shepherd, with
the deceptively gentle names of Phoebe and Bella.  One could track a
mosquito through the woods, and the other could bite.  They served
their mistress well.

Obviously Terri couldn't outsmart Odell by herself.  But there were
only two on Odell's team--herself and that creep, Henry--while there
were ten or twelve girls at the home at any given time.  If they could
coordinate their efforts, they could take Odell by surprise and
overpower her.

Tern's thoughts had followed this path before, and always to the same
depressing conclusion.  To coordinate, the girls needed to plan, and
planning was an impossible task when even the simplest communication
was forbidden.  Odell kept the girls separated most of the time, and
when any of them were in the same room, they weren't allowed to talk to
one another.

Occasionally a few whispered sentences were possible in the exercise
yard.  Terri had tried to summon some support for her idea to conspire
against Odell, but the other girls always shied away from Terri.  No
one wanted to risk Odell's wrath by associating with a known
troublemaker.  They believed Odell when she told them that if they just
behaved until after their babies were born, they would be telcased.

At one time Terri had clung to that belief, too.  It was the only thing
that had kept her sane.  She didn't believe anymore.  Three girls had
already had their babies and were gone.  If they'd been released, why
hadn't they brought the police down on Odell's head?  Anyway, Terri'd
been watching out the window when Henry had put Jennifer's
body--dead?--into the back of OdeIFs Suburban and driven away.

Marcy's screams reached a crescendo, then degenerated into a series of
pitiful moans and sobs, followed by a sudden, frightening silence.

Chapter 1

Carolyn Triece sat at her corner desk, nursing a cold cup of tea and
reviewing her cases--and she had a pile of them.  The holidays, with
their incipient anxiety and depression, always brought' with them an
onslaught of disappearances.  This year was no different.

One case, at least, Cato could mark closed.  She'd found Helen Shepherd
in a women's shelter, sporting a black eye and a missing tooth.  The
woman had begged Caro not to tell her husband where she was.  Two days
earlier, the same idiot husband.  had stood before Caro straight-faced
and told her he couldn't imagine why his wife would leave him.  He'd
been positive Helen had been kidnapped.

It would give Caro great pleasure to inform Mr.  Shepherd that his wife
was safe and sound, and that she never wanted to see him again.  Cato
could only hope that Helen would go through with her plans to divorce
the SOB and take him to the cleaners.  He deserved worse.

Cam looked at the long list of phone calls to be made and sighed.
Sometimes she felt like the receiver was growing out of her ear.
Figuring she might as well get started, she reached for the phone, then
halted.  She felt someone looking at her.

"Yo, Cato."  It was Tony, who occupied the desk in front of hers. 
After working four years together in Missing Persons, she and Corporal
Tony V'dlaverde had developed a finely tuned sensitivity to each other.
As he strode across the room toward her, the worry lines in his
forehead said a lot.  He didn't have good news.

"What's happened?"  she asked as he slapped a stack of folders onto his
desk, directly in front of hers.

He turned to face her, lacing his fingers through his thick
salt-and-pepper hair.  "The body they found by the dam at Cedar
Creek?",

"Yeah?"

"She's been positively identified--she's your Marcy Phelps."  As Caro
absorbed the blow, her gaze wandered to the bulletin board on the wall
next to her desk, decorated with the photographs from every unsolved
case that had crossed her desk.  There weren't too many; most cases
solved themselves in a matter of days.

Not the Marcy Phelps case.  Marcy, blond and chubby-cheeked,

smiled back at her, showing a mouth full of braces.

"Cause of death?"

"Preliminary guess is that the fall broke her neck."

Oh, God.  "Any idea when?"

"The ME says the body's no more than a week old."

"A week!"  Caro's mind reeled.  Marcy Phelps had been missing for more
than six months, and yet she'd been dead only a week.  Where had she
been?  Was she just another runaway who'd succumbed to the evils of
life on the street, or was there more to the story?

"There's one other weird thing," Tony said.  "Apparently the girl gave
birth only days, maybe hours, before she died."

Caro's stomach turned.  She'd already had to get Marcy's dental records
from her parents for purposes of identifying the body.  Their reaction
hadn't been pleasant.  Now it would be up to her to tell them their
fifteen-year-old daughter had been pregnant, too.  "I suppose CAPERS
wants the file," she said.

"You got it.  Whether Marcy jumped or someone helped her along, there's
a baby somewhere.  Austin Lomax is taking over the

Caro grimaced.  Although she'd never met Marcy, she felt as if she knew
the girl, and giving up her case wouldn't be easy.  It galled Cato to
think that some stranger would be the one to solve the mystery
surrounding Marcy's disappearance and death, if it could be solved. And
Lomax, of all people.  He'd been working with homicides for, what, two
Weeks?  His specialty was missing cars.

"You dont like Lomax?"  Tony, as always, read her body language.

She shrugged, feigning indifference.  "Don't even know him.  It just
strikes me as odd that they'd give a tricky case like this to a
greenhorn."

"He's been working in Homicide for a couple of months now, partnering
with Frank Feldman," Tony said as he propped his lean hips against the
back of his chair and stuffed a piece of purple bubblegum into his
mouth.  He chewed gum almost constantly since he'd quit smoking almost
a year ago.  "Besides, after seven years in Auto Theft he's not that
green."

"Cars aren't the same as people."

Tony narrowed his eyes shrewdly.  "I think maybe you'd be pissed no
matter who took over the ease."

Caro straightened her spine.  "What's that supposed to mean?"  "I mean
that maybe you're getting tired of teenage runaways and deserting
husbands, and you wish you could investigate Marcy's death."

Caro reared up, almost out of her chair.  "That's a crock.  I'm
perfectly happy doing what I'm doing."

"Yeah, okay.  Then why are you oming at me like a snapping turtle
with

PMS?"

She didn't dignify his accusation with an answer.  Instead she reached
for the phone and swiveled her chair so that she faced the wall.

"Chicken," Tony said under his breath.  "You won't even argue With
me."

"Buzz off, Villaverde."  She angrily jabbed at the telephone keypad.

Okay, maybe she was feeling over possessive about Marcy Phelps, but
that didn't mean she wanted to actually investigate the murder.  She'd
already given the case everything she had, and it hadn't been enough.
The girl had been somewhere near Dallas, right under their noses, for
the past six months, and yet Cato hadn't turned up a single, solid lead
during the entire course of her investigation.

She had to let it go.  For all his inexperience, Lomax was reputed to
be sharp, if a tad self-absorbed.  He would go over every inch of
ground Cato had covered, and more.  Maybe a fresh, enthusiastic mind
would spot something she had missed.

The phone on the other end of the line rang ten times before she hung
up.  Better not to waste any time, she decided.  She pawed through her
file drawer until she found the pitififlly thin Marcy Phelps file. Caro
had three-day-old cases with fatter folders than this one.  The folks
in CAPERS would think she hadn't lifted a finger.

No, of course that wasn't true.  Until four years ago, she'd worked in
CAPERS--the Crimes Against Persons division--in the Sex Crimes Unit.
Most of the investigators over there knew her, and she would like to
think they respected her work.  They would know she'd tried.  But had
she tried hard enough?

"I'm heading downstairs, anyway, so I'll take that over for you," Tony
offered, totally unaffxted by her attempted brush-off.  That was one
nice thing about Tony; it was impossible to hurt his feelings.
"Lomax'll want to talk to you, of course, after he reads the file."
There was a pause.  "Uh, looks like you have a new case."

"I do?"  She saw him then, the man lurking near the doorway, an uneasy
expression on his face.

"I heard Sergeant Quayar giving him your name as I came in," Tony said
before taking the Phelps file and sauntering away.

Cato knew the newcomer was trouble he fore he'd even opened his mouth.
He had that haunted look around the eyes, the one that said he'd
already been through hell.  He was dressed in a conservative suit, but
the tie was slightly askew, like he hadn't quite cared to get it right.
He clutched a foam cup as if the coffee inside it was the only thing
keeping him from diving over the edge.

Someone he loved had abandoned him, and he was looking for a way--any
way--to explain it.  It always amazed Cato that some people would
rather discover their loved one was the victim of some heinous crime
than face the fact that the person had simply walked away.

The man cast a glance around the busy, impersonal room with those
tragic eyes, which eventually settled on her desk, her nameplate.  She
met his gaze squarely.  Although she Wanted to give the man a smile of
encouragement, she couldn't do it, not when she knew the odds were
against his finding out something to his liking.

Throwing his shoulders back, he strode purposefully toward her.  "Am
you Corporal Triee?"

She stood and extended her hand, well aceustoreed by now to the look of
incredulity that went with the question.  At five foot two and a
hundred and five pounds, with long, curly brown hair that she wore in a
single braid, she looked more like a high school cheerleader than a
police detective.  She had long ago given up on being defensive about
her looks.  "Yes, I'm Carolyn Triece.  And you're..."

"Russell Arkin."  He gave her hand a perfunctory shake.  His hands were
ice cold.

"Have a seat, Mr.  Arkin," Caro said crisply as she reclaimed her own
chair, pushing thoughts of Marcy Phelps to one side for the moment.
"Are you here to report a missing person?"  As if she had to ask.

He nodded.  When he didn't jump into his story, she busied herself with
opening her notebook and laboriously printing his name at the top of
the first blank sheet, giving him time to collect his thoughts.

"My daughter," he finally said.

Caro winced.  Whether they were runaways or nabbed by non-custodial
parents, missing children were the hardest.  "I'm sorry,"

she said automatically.  "Her name?"  "Amanda.  Amanda Lee Arkin."
"Age?"  "Eighteen."

That surprised Caro.  Russell Arkin didn't look old enough to have an
eighteen-year-old child.  She'd pegged him at about her own age, which
was thirty-three.  "Mr.  Arkin, you do realize that your daughter is no
longer a minor.  If she left of her own accord, there's--"

"She didn't."

He sounded so positive.  But then, they all did.  Parents had a hard
time facing a child's voluntary desertion.

"All right, let's start at the beginning," Caro said, "all business.
"When did you last see her?"

"Yesterday--that would be Wednesday, December 21."  He watched to see
that Caro recorded the date, which she did.  "She left the house for a
doctor's appointment at around eight-thirty," he continued, "just as I
was leaving for work, and she just ... never came home."

"Did she make it to the appointment?"

"No.  She was supposed to meet with a psychologist, Virginia Dreyfus,
at the..."  His words trailed off.  "Anyway, I talked with

Dr.  Dreyfus first thing this morning.  Amanda never showed."  "Why was
she seeing a psychologist?"  "Is--is that important?"

"Her emotional state is very important."

He pursed his lips and looked at the ceiling, then down at his hands.
"Dr.  Dreyfus works at a family-planning clinic over on Harry Hines--I
think it's called the Women's Services Clinic, or something equally
euphemisti .  Amanda was... is pregnant, and she was supposedly
receiving counseling about her options."  His words had a certain
bitter twist to them.

"You dont sound as if you approve."

He emptied the coffee cup in one gulp, then began systematically
shredding the foam.  "That clinic is nothing but an abortion mill, pure
and simple.  I can't imagine that Dr.  Dreyfus would do anything except
sell Amanda on the clinic's services."

"You definitely dont approve."  A picture was forming in Caro's mind,
and not a pretty one.  "Did you and your daughter disagree over this
issue?"

He flashed her a look of pure hostility.  The silence between them was
punctualext only by the sound of his busy fingers shredding the cup.

"Mr.  Arkin, I'm not asking out of morbid curiosity.  I need to know as
muh as possible about Amanda's state of mind at the time of her
disappearance.  Anything you can tell me about what was going on in her
life would be helpful."

"If I tell you we disagreed about abortion, you're going to
automatically assume that Amanda and I had a fight and that she
disappeared of her own accord."  He slammed his hand on the desk. "But,
damn it, that's not what happened!"

Caro felt for him, she really did, but she wasn't in the mood to be
second-guessed.  Her job would be a hell of a lot easier if people
would just answer her questions.  "I dont intend to jump to any
conclusions or dismiss any possibilities at this point.  Now, did you
and Amanda disagree on the issue of abortion?"

He gritted his teeth, but he answered this time.  "We discussed it. She
was seriously considering it.  I advised her not to.  But I made it
clear that whatever she decided, I would support her.  Amanda and I
have always had a very close relationship."

Yeah, right.  Cato had heard that one before.  "What was her mood like
yesterday morning?"

He shrugged.  "Nothing out of the ordinary.  We were both on our way
out the door, and she said she was going to look for a Christmas tree
after her appointment at the clinic.  She'd been giving me a hard time
because, with her away at school, I hadn't done any decorating.  But
that was always her department.  She gets such a kick out of it."  He
looked around the room at the pitiful excuse for holiday decorations
Caro and her co-workers had managed--an anemic-looking tree in the
corner, only half decorated, and some lopsided paper snowflakes on the
windows, courtesy of Tony's seven-year-old twins.  "She used to make
snowflakes like those."

"So, Christmas was generally a good time for Amanda?"

As Russell Arkin began to open up a bit, a portrait of his daughter
emerged.  Amanda had been a straight A student at a private Catholic
high school--a state spelling-bee champion, no less--and had just
completed her first semester at University of North Texas in nearby
Denton.

"How were her grades in college?"  Cato asked.

Arkin smiled wistfully.  "She's no Rhodes Scholar, but she did all
right.  She didn't flunk anything, at least.  I figure once the newness
of college life wears off, she'll settle down and study.  She wants to
be an electrical engineer.  She's really into building stuff--radios,
televisions, you name it.  Had her ham radio license when she was
sixteen."

"Ham radio?  Who does she talk to?"

"People all over the world.  I already checked with some of her
regular.  contacts.  They'll be listening for any word from her."

"Good thinking."  Cato made a few notes.  "In our day, only boys were
into electronics."

The man actually smiled, if only for a moment.- "Yeah, well, times have
changed."

According to her father, Amanda was ambitious, goal-oriented and
popular with her friends.  She worked a part-time job to help pay for
college.  It didn't sound as if her father had put any undue pressure
on her.  "What about boyfriends?"  Cato asked casually, but that was
the million-dollar question.  She wanted to know who had lathered
Amanda's baby.

"There's only one that I know of, Scott Humphrey.  They've been dating
for two years.  And before you even ask, yes, Scott is the baby's
father.  He and Amanda came to me and toJd me together."

"Have you talked to Scott since Amanda disappeared?"  Arkin nodded.
"He's been helping me look for her, and he's at least as frantic as I
am.  Between us we've contacted everyone we can think of who's even a
slight acquaintance.  No one's heard from her."

The baby's father would be Caro's first and best lead, she decided. 
She took down Scott's address and phone number, as well as those of
several of Amanda's close friends.  Arkin had come prepared.

"Oh, but you won't find Scott at home," Arkin added.  "No?"

"He went skiing with his parents for Christmas."

Alarm bells went off in Caro's head.  If this kid was so concerned
about his girlfriend, why would he jaunt off to Vail or wherever?

"He had to go," Arkin said as if he'd read Caro's mind.  "His
patents... well, you'd have to know the Humphreys to understand."

This explanation didn't completely satisfy Cato, but she let it ride
for now.  "What kind of car was Amanda driving?"  she asked.

"A new Chevy Cavalier convertible.  Red.  It was her high school
graduation present."

Nice car, Cato thought.  Better than what she drove.  "License
number?"

"Personalized plates.  They say IMA HAM."  He spelled it out.  "She's
serious about this radio stuff."

"That'll make it a little easier.  A car like that is pretty hard to
miss."

"What do you do, put it on a computer or something?"

She shook her head.  "Right now, all I can do is ask around at various
places Amanda might go.  If we dont get any leads in the next two or
three days, we can start to suspect foul play and I can enter her car
in the national NCIC computer.  But chances are she'll show up before
then."  Cato tried to sound reassuring.

Arkin's hands stilled, and he pinned her with a penetrating stare.
"You're not listening.  Whether Amanda is the victim of an accident,
illness or foul play, she didn't disappear because she wanted to."

Although Cato disagreed, she didn't argue.  She wasn't easily
intimidated, but something about Russell Arkin--his intensity,
perhaps--made her think twice before crossing him.

She changed the line of questioning, asking about Amanda's mother. Russ
had been divorced from his wife for years, and neither he nor Amanda
had kept in contact with the woman.  Cato made a mental note to check
that out.  Then she asked more of the usual questions, asking about
Amanda's routines, where she liked to eat, her sleeping habits, taste
in clothes, food and music.  The other investigators in Missing Persons
sometimes teased her about her thoroughness, but she had learned not to
overlook even the smallest detail.  She had once located an elderly
man, an Alzhei-mers victim, because the son had mentioned that his
father was a nut for Mexican food.  Cato had canvassed every Taco Bell
within a five-mile radius of the old man's home, and eventually she
turned up an employee who remembered him.  The man had been found in a
nearby park.

"Does Amanda have money?  Credit ear ds Cato asked.  "She has a
checking account, but she's constantly overdrawn.  She has an Exxon
card for gas, and a department store card--Sears or Penney's, can't
remember which."

"Could she have borrowed one of your cards?"

Judging from the way 'his eyebrows flew up and his nostrils flared,
she'd paid his daughter a gross insult.  "Amandadoesn't steal."

"It wouldn't hurt to check.  She might have borrowed a card, intending
to tell you," Cato countered.

As he flipped through the contents of his wallet, his expression turned
sheepish.

"Well?"

"I lent her my MasterCard to pay at the clinic.  I'd forgotten."  Cato
made a note of all-the cards in Amanda's possession, extracting a
promise from Mr.  Arkin that he would call later with the numbers.

Next, she took a detailed physical description of Amanda Arkin, right
down to the number of freckles on her nose and the scar on her right
knee.  Her father had also come prepared with a stack of photographs,
copies of Amanda's graduation picture.  Cato took a moment to study the
young woman's face.  She was uncommonly attractive, with thick russet
hair, sparkling blue eyes and a friendly smile.  Caro hoped Amanda had
sense enough to use that MasterCard.  She hated to think of such a
pretty young girl on the streets.  The regulars would eat her for
breakfast.

"What else will you do?"  Arkin asked, looking hopeful for the first
time since he'd sat down.

"Besides looking for the ear, I'll also question the people at that
clinic, if I can get a subpoena so they'll release her information.
I'll ask if anyone saw her in the parking lot or the reception area,
just in case she got that far.  I'll also visit Christmas tree lots
between your house and the clinic, since you said she was planning to
buy' a tree.  And I'll talk to her friends, particularly Scott
Humphrey.  I know you, already did that, but they might tell me things
they wouldn't mention to her father."

Arkin nodded his understanding.

"I'll talk to the credit card companies and get them to flag the
account numbers.  If anyone makes any charges, we'll know about it,"
Caro added.

Again he nodded.  "I'm having some fliers printed up," he said.  "I'm
offering a ten-thousand-dollar reward to anyone who helps me find
Amanda."

Cato was slightly uncomfortable with that tactic, and she told him so.
"Media attention can sometimes be helpful, but at this early state it's
not really warranted.  Ninety-nine percent of the cases that cross my
desk solve themselves within a day or two."  .

"Now, you listen to me, lady!"  Arkin came out of his chair, showing a
burst of emotion 'that he'd previously kept carefully leashed.  He
leaned across her desk until he was nose to nose with her.  "Six years
ago my wife left me.  She left for the grocery store and she just never
came home.  But do you know, I never looked for her?  I never called
the police, because I'm not some nut-case alarmist.  I just waited
patiently for the divorce papers to arrive.  I knew, even though she'd
never said as much, that she didn't want to live with me anymore.

"This is different.  I know my daughter, and she would no more leave
home witllout telling me than she would fly to the moon."

Cato didn't back down an inch.  "She's pregnant, Mr.  Arkin.  We get at
least one or two pregnant teenagers through here every week.  They have
tough decisions to make, and usually they need some time to
themselves."

"In other words, you dont intend to take this case seriously."  "I
didn't say that.  I'll do everything I can think of to find your
daughter.  But I'll bet you dollars to doughnuts she's missing
because she wants to be."

When he spoke again, his voice was deadly soft.  "I hope you're right,
Corporal Triece..I really do.  Because if you give this case short
shrift and they find my kid in a ditch somewhere, you're going to have
to live with that."  He spun around and stalked out of the room,
skirting the closely arranged desks, bumping a chair with his hip.  No
one paid him the slightest attention.  They had seen it all before.

Tony, recently returned from his trip downstairs to CAPERS, straddled
the chair in front Of Caro's desk, fiercely chewing his gum.  "What was
that all about?"

Cato swallowed the lump in her throat.  Thoro was no reason for Arkin's
words to sting like they had.  Maybe it was the combination of finding
Marcy Phelps in such a horrible way and now facing a similar case that
had gotten to Caro.  Wordlessly she handed Tony one of Amanda's
pictures.

Tony gave a low whistle.  "I guess Daddy's not too happy about his
little pride and joy taking off."

"He's not too pleased about the fact that his little pride and joy is
pregnant, either."

"Lot of that going around.  Like the Phelps girl.  At least now we know
why she ran away in the first place."

"I tried to tell Mr.  Arkin that a pregnant teenager has every reason
to split, but..."

"Naturally he didn't believe you."

"I'm not sure I believe me.  For one thing, Amanda Arkin is over
eighteen.  She didn't have to run away.  She could just leave, and no
one could stop her."

"So maybe she did, and she just didn't announce the fact."

"Yeah, maybe.  But that doesn't sound like the girl Arkin described to
me.  According to him, she's never been any trouble.

Good grades, no drugs, never been arrested, never even had a speeding
ticket."

"But she did get pregnant."

"True.  And apparently she Yfted Daddy's MasterCard, although he
maintains he lent it to her.  I think I better find out what her
friends have to say about this supposed close relationship he-tween
father and daughter."

When Amanda came to, her head was spinning and her stomach roiling. She
was lying on a narrow cot in a tiny room.  A small, barred window let
in the only light, the thin winter sun of an overcast day.  The green
walls were blank, the tile floor bare.  The only furnishings were the
cot, a cheap nightstand, a chair and a metal bar with some
unidentifiable articles of clothing hanging from it.

Amanda retched, but there was nothing in her stomach.  She'd had
morning sickness earlier, she remembered.  Then memories of the rest of
her morning--or was it yesterday morning?--came flooding back, and a
wave of panic washed over her.

Oh, God, I've been kidnapped.

The last thing she recalled, she'd been sitting in her car in the
clinic's parking lot, killing time until her appointment with the
shrink.  She could have sat in the waiting room, like she'd done the
time before, but she hated that place.  It had been filled with women,
some young, some not so young, most of them poor.  Some had been there
to get birth control or prenatal medical care, but most were like her,
facing an unplanned pregnancy and confused as hell.  The mood of
depression, desperation and hopelessness had been so pervasive that it
had almost smothered Amanda.

As the time for her appointment had rolled around, Amanda continued to
sit in the car.  She would open the door, then close it again, unable
to make herself walk across the parking lot to the front door.

She couldn't do it.  She couldn't go back into that horrible place.  As
suddenly as the sun burst from behind a cloud, Amanda reached a
decision she'd been grappling with for two weeks.  She would have the
baby.  Maybe she would keep it, maybe she would give it up for
adoption, but she wouldn't get an abortion.  She would go through with
the pregnancy and birth with or without Scott's support.

With the decision made, a weight seemed to lift from her shoulders.
Smiling for the first time in weeks, she had reached for the ignition,
intent on stopping at the nearest Christmas tree lot and buying the
biggest Scotch pine she could find.  Before she could turn the key,
however, someone knocked on her passenger window.

A stout older woman waved to her through the glass, a pleading look on
her face.  Amanda started the ear so she could run the electric window
down a few inches.  The heater blasted to life.

"I'm sorry to bother you," the woman said in a croaky voice, "but I
seem to be lost.  I'm trying to find the St.  Jude's Shelter.  Do you
know where that is?"

Amanda's heart immediately went out to the Woman.  It was cold outside,
and she wore only a thin coat and no scarf or gloves.  "I'm sorry.  I
dont know where the shelter is," Amanda said.

"I have a map, but ... well, I'm afraid I can't read so good.  Could
you look at the map?"

"Sure."  Amanda unlocked the passenger door.  Having just decided to
allow the life inside her to continue living, she felt unusually
charitable.  It was Christmas time, when people should help each other.
"Why dont you sit in here where it's warm If I can figure out your map,
I'll drive you to the shelter."

The look of gratitude on the woman's face had warmed Amanda's heart.
The woman opened the door and climbed in with her worn shopping
hag--probably all she had in the world.  She reached into the bag and
extracted a much-creased piece of paper, then held it out tentatively
toward Amanda.

Amanda started to reach for the map.  But before she could, a cloth was
shoved into her face by a surprisingly strong hand and a noxious odor
invaded her nose and lungs.  For a moment she was so shocked she
couldn't fight it.  When she finally did go into action, bucking and
screaming and flailing her attacker with her fists, her struggle was
brief.  Lethargy overcame her and darkness engulfed her.

Next thing she knew, she was here in this depressing little room--no,
cell, she corrected herself.  She took a quick inventory of her body,
finding nothing amiss except a nasty scrape on her elbow.  She vaguely
remembered banging it against something as she'd struggled, maybe the
steering wheel.  But then she saw what looked like a needle mark on her
arm.

Why would anyone kidnap her?  She tried to think logically as she sat
up slowly, her head still spinning.  Her father was comfortable but by
no means wealthy, so no one had reason to believe a fat ransom would be
forthcoming.  She had no enemies that she knew of.  She'd been
estranged from her mother for several yeas, but if Trina had wanted to
see her, she wouldn't have had to a'esort to anything this elaborate.

When Amanda could stand without falling over, she made her way to the
door.  It was locked from the outside, which didn't surprise her, and
the bars on the single window were secure.

What the hell kind of place was this?

Panic welled up inside her again.  "Hey!"  she called out suddenly.
"Hey, let me out of here!"  She beat her fist against the door.  "Let
me out, damn it!"  She hadn't been screaming for very long when she
heard footsteps and the scrape of a deadbolt.  She stepped back,
bailing her hands into fists, prepared for anything.

The door opened, and the "homeless" woman stepped in.  She didn't look
the slightest bit confused or pitiful now.  In fact, she wore a
decidedly smug smile.  "Well, I see you're finally awake."

"What is going on?"  Amanda demanded, although her voice wasn't as
strong as she would have liked.  The question came out sounding rather
desperate.

"You're at the Good Shepherd Maternity Home, my dear Amanda.  You'll
stay here until you have your baby."

"I most certainly will not.  What are you, some kind of rabid pro-lifer
who snatches women at abortion clinics?"

The woman's lack of emotion sent a chill down Amanda's spine.  "Not at
all.  It was pure coincidence that I caught up with you at the
clinic."

"You've been following me?"  Amanda screeched.  For some reason, that
idea was even more frightening than the fact that she'd been kidnapped.
"This is preposterous.  You're nuts!  You're--you're--" She gasped for
breath and the wits to express her utter horror.  "When my father finds
out about this, he'll have your ass in jail so fast you won't know what
hit you?"

"My dear, you dont think I would go to this much trouble on my own
authority, do you?  Your father is the one who made all the
arrangements."

Chapter2

Austin L max read the autopsy report for the third time, not quite sure
how he felt about it.  Marcy Phelps wasn't the victim of murder or
suicide.  She'd died from loss of blood, the result of severe
hemorrhaging after childbirth.  The ME was quite firm about this;
unusually cold weather had preserved the body well.  The contusions and
broken neck Marcy had suffered falling from the dam had occurred after
death.

Austin pulled off his tortoiseshell glasses and rubbed his eyes.
Technically this wasn't a homicide.  But somebody out there was sure as
hell guilty of something.  First off, the girl should have been taken
to a hospital if she was having a difficult birth.  Failing that, her
death should have been reported.  And where the hell was her baby?

Whoever had dumped Marcy's body off the dam knew the whole story, and
Austin was determined to find out who that someone was.

"Austin Lomax?"

He looked up and into the face of a heart-stirringly beautiful young
woman.  She wore little if any makeup, and her retro clothing made her
look like a tiny and fragile Annie Hall.  The only clue to her age was
the hardness around her huge hazel eyes; he probably wasn't as young as
she looked.

"I'm Carolyn Triece.  You wanted to see me?"

Austin hoped he hid his surprise.  "So you're the illustrious Caro.
Have a seat."  He stole the chair from the empty desk next to his and
motioned her into it.

She seemed to have no reaction to his use of the term illustriOUs.  "Is
that the ME's report?"  she asked.

"Yeah.  Have a look.  I think you'll be surprised."

As Cato Triece studied the autopsy report, Austin finished off a sticky
bun and surreptitiously watched her.  He'd been working at this station
for almost six weeks, but their paths hadn't crossed before.  Still,
he'd heard a lot about her.  Her days in the Sex Crimes Unit had earned
her a putation--sub He as a butterfly when she wanted to be, or tough
as an army boot to the gut.  She could do the bad-cop-good-cop routine
all by herself.  People used to fight over who got to listen first to
the tapes of her interrogations.  The way she questioned a suspect was
a thing of beauty, they said.

He had a hard time believing this delicate little creature could be
army-boot tough.

If she was so hot, why was she wasting her time in Missing Persons?  he
wondered.  Her transfer had perplexed a lot of people she'd worked
with, but she'd never offered an explanation.

"So Marcy Phelps wasn't murdered, but she might as well have been,"
Cato said when she finished reading the report.

"The way I see it, whoever delivered Marcy's baby panicked when Marcy
died.  They dragged the body to the dam and pitched it, hoping to make
her death look like suicide."

"And the baby?"  she asked, her clipped tones reminding him of a
teacher who expects to get a wrong answer.

"An evidence team is combing the area for signs of another body, but I
dont think they'll find it.  According to the ME, Marcy was full term
or close to it when she delivered.  Someone out there has her baby."

"Which means others might have seen it or heard it.  The sudden
appearance of a motherless newborn is kind of hard to explain.  Are you
bringing in the media?"

He felt even more like he needed to pass some sort of test with Cato,
and he was glad he had the right answer handy.  "I've already got the
Public Information office working on it.  They dont think we'll have
much trouble getting the coverage we need.  There are a host of little
towns around Cedar Creek--Trinidad, Seven Points, Gun Barrel City--"

"Egad, sounds like something out of a bad Louis L'Amour novel."

"All of 'em have little weekly papers just dying to print up any scrap
we'll toss 'era about the Phelps case.  I guess they dont see much
action out there."

"I'd gladly give them some of ours."  Cato glanced at her watch. 
"Let's go over the case.  I haven't got much time, but then, there's
not that much to go over."

"I couldn't help but notice it was a pretty slim file you handed over."
Austin hadn't intended the comment as a criticism, not consciously, but
Caro bristled like a porcupine.

She folded her arms across her breasts in a classically defensive
posture.  "There just weren't any leads.  I've seen people vanish into
thin air before, but this one takes the cake.  Of course," she added,
"now that we know Marcy was pregnant before she disappeared, that might
shed a new light on things."

Austin leaned back in his chair, propped his feet on his desk and
flipped open the file.  Now that he had Cato on the defensive, he
intended to press his advantage.  It was his turn to ask questions.
"Let's start with the parents.  He's an electrician and she's a
teacher, but what're they really like?"

Cato pursed her lips as she thought for a moment.  "Nice,
mild-mannered, middle-class folks.  They've been in denial from the
beginning, of course.  Even after Marcy had been missing a couple of
months, they still maintained it was all some kind of mistake, that
their darling baby had just forgotten to tell them where she'd gone.
When I told them she was dead, they insisted it had to be a mistake.
They insisted on seeing her body...."  Caro shook her head.  "Have you
questioned them?"

"They're coming in later this afternoon."

"Don't be too hard on them," Cato cautioned.

"I'll be hard on them if it' serves my purpose."  He hadn't meant to
snap at her, and he was on the verge of offering an apology, but she
appeared so totally unfazed by his sharp words that he let it pass. "It
says here that they told you Marcy didn't date, that she wasn't
interested in boys yet and they weren't much interested in her."

Caro unfolded her arms and relaxed a bit as she became engrossed in the
details of the case.  "I believed them at the time.  Her room was a
little girl's room, with lots of ruffles and stuffed animals.  She
still read young-adult romances and kids' magazines, and she wore her
hair in pigtails.  I dont think she even wore makeup."

"Doesn't sound like the type to have an illicit affair behind her
parents' backs."

"Unless her parents so repressed her that she couldn't ezen'grow up in
front of them.  But from what her friends said, she really was somewhat
immature.  She was interested in boys, but still in that giggly,
long-distance sort of way.  She was a high school freshman and had yet
to go on her first official date.  Although..."  Cato frowned.  "Maybe
she was raped."

"That could be the answer," Austin said, wishing he'd thought of it
first.

"Yet another horrifying possibility those poor parents may have to
face.  I can see it, though.  Maybe Marcy was too ashamed to tell
anyone, and when she turned up pregnant she was afraid no one would
believe her."

"Enough to make anyone want to run away," Austin said.  "If she did
have a secret like that, who do you think she'd tell?"

Cato thought for a moment.  "There was a teacher she idolized, a Mrs.
"

Austin referred to the notes.  "Blaylock?"

"Yeah, that's it, Melanie Blaylock.  !  talked to her.  The notes
should be in there somewhere.  Other than to say Marcy had seemed a
little more withdrawn lately, she couldn't shed any light on the
matter."

"What about her sisters?  Would she have told them?"  "Mmm, doubtful.
The younger one, Debby, is real bright, but she's only ten.  I doubt
Marcy would have confided in her.  And the older one was away at
college.  I didn't like her, by the way.  What was her name?"

"Mindy.  Why didn't you like her?"

Cato rolled her eyes.  "She was very superior in the way only college
freshmen can be.  Although she'd seen Marcy exactly once sine
Christmas, she claimed to be an expert on her little sister's
personality--knew everything about her.  She was firmly convinced that
Marcy had been kidnapped, and she kept smarting off that the police
weren't doing nearly enough."

"Ah, so she cast aspersions on your abilities as an investigator.  No
wonder she pissed you off."

"It wasn't anything personal," Cato huffed.

Austin hid a smile as he made a note beside Mindy Phelps's name.  He
wOUld enjoy questioning her.  She might smart off to Cato, who despite
her reputation didn't appear very intimidating to him, but Mindy might
feel differently when approached by a six-foot-two man with a badge and
an attitude.  Yeah, he knew just how to play that one.

As for Caro ... he wasn't sure how to play her.  She had a strange
effect on him, and it wasn't just sexual awareness--although that was
part of it.  Maybe it was the fact that, for the first time in years,

his mere identity as a police detective wasn't enough to impress a
woman.

Did he really want to impress Cato?  That was ridiculous; he told
himself.  Anyway, the Phelps case was his now, and she would be
returning upstairs.  They wouldn't have much call to see each other. 
It was probably better that way.

Xrrginia Dreyfus hated her job.  She hated her office, with its cheap
furnishings and dusty imitation silk ferns.  She hated her boss, Dr.
Holier-Than-Thou Thurman Wayrick, who was amassing a fortune off other
people's misery.

She didn't even like her clients.  Stupid, ignorant women.  Most of
them didn't have the sense-to get in out of the rain--or to use a
condom.  She faced them day after day, week after week, one after
another, one face blending into the next.  She w/s so tired of Smiling
and reassuring and trying to shore up their self-esteem, when all the
while she wanted to shake them until their pea-sized brains rattled
inside their skulls.

Most of all she hated being told what to do by people who thought they
were better than she was--like the snotty detective who was now seated
in her office, waving her subpoena and passing judgment as she asked
her pseudo-polite questions.

The.  telephone message Virginia had received that morning from
Corporal Carolyn Triece had given her a case of the jitters.
Immediately she'd thought the police had somehow connected her with
that Phelps girl, whose body had been identified yesterday.  Virginia
had delayed returning the call, arguing with herself as to how much of
the truth she wanted to reveal.  She didn't miad lying, but only if she
was sure she wouldn't get caught.

Then the impatient Triece woman had shown up in person.  Thank God the
detective's questions were about something else entirely.  Amanda Arkin
had disappeared.  The fact that the police had connected Amanda to the
clinic was unfortunate, inconvenient, but not a disaster.

"I want to cooperate as fully as possible," rginia said carefully as
she flicked the dust off the silk plant that sat on her desk.  "But I
feel obligated to protect Amanda's privacy.  It goes against everything
inside me to violate her confidentiality."

"This subpoena supersedes Amanda's right to privacy," Triece said with
an impatient sigh.  "Anyway, her privacy won't do her much good if
she's dead.  Now, there are only two things specifically spelled out in
this document that I need from you.  One is Amanda's state of mind.  If
in your expert opinion she's suicidal, I

need to know.  I told that girl's father that I thought she'd run off
simply because she needed some time alone to think.  Do you believe I'm
right?  If not, tell me now.  If Amanda is deeply disturbed, I'll
upgrade this case to critical."

Virginia had a good idea where Amanda was.  Odell and her propaganda
had apparently found a receptive target in the confused, pregnant girl,
who was probably now safely tucked away in the Good Shepherd Maternity
Home.  But of course, Virginia couldn't tell Triece.

"Amanda's father said she was handling her situation very calmly, very
rationally," Triece offered when Virginia remained silent.  "Was he
right?"

Virginia assumed a deliberately patronizing manner.  "I'm sure that's
what he would like to believe.  Amanda isn't suicidal, nor deeply
disturbed, but she's far from calm and rational.  She's facing a very
tough decision.  Her strict Catholic upbringing taught her that
abortion is a sin, and yet she feels that to have a baby now would ruin
her life.  This inner conflict has produced a great deal of anxiety. In
my opinion, your theory that she left home to think things
through--away from her well-meaning father--is quite consistent with
her mental state.  I would he very surprised if she doesn't turn up or
call in the next day or two."

Corporal Triece visibly relaxed, probably relieved to discover that her
own instincts were on the mark.

Virginia felt only a twinge of guilt that she hadn't told Triece the
whole truth.  In her "expert opinion," she thought Amanda Arkin was one
of the most rational, intelligent young women to have come through this
office.  She wouldn't have even given Amanda's name to Odell, because
Amanda didn't fit the profile Odell had requested, but Virginia really
needed some extra cash.

It surprised the hell out of her that Amanda had fallen for Odell's
line of bull, but that must be what had happened.  Now all Virginia
wanted was to give the detective what she was looking for and send her
on her way.

"How was Amanda's relationship with her father?"  Triece asked.

"I dont believe that information was spelled out in the subpoena,"
Virginia said.

Triece snorted impatiently.  "If you have any concern for Amanda at
all, you'll help me find her."

"And have her sue the pants off me for violating her privacy?  No,
thanks."  She struggled to soften her stance.  "Look, I hope you find
Amanda, I really do.  And if there were anything else remarkable about
her case, I would tell you.  But there isn't, and I dont see the
benefit in hashing over bits and pieces of confidential counseling
sessions."

Trice gave another frustrated sigh.  "Just one more thing, and this one
is spelled out in the subpoena.  I need the names of any friends or
acquaintances she mentioned.  Maybe you can tell me if she talked
excessively about any of them."

Virginia pursed her lips, then grudgingly read off several names from
her shorthand notes--Amanda's college roommate, her best friend from
high school and, of course, Scott.  "Amanda didn't talk excessively
about anyone except a boy named Scott, no last name re

"Scott Humphrey, the baby's father," Triece supplied.  "It was no
secret.  Everybody who knew she was pregnant knew who the father
was."

"I can't recall that she spoke of anyone else," Virginia said coolly.

Triece responded with a voice like ice.  "If your memory improves,
please call me.  Amanda's father is frantic."  She dropped a business
card onto Virginia's desk as she stood and put away her notepad and
pen.  Then she added, almost as an afterthought,

"He's offering a ten-thousand-dollar reward."

"Indeed."

Virginia rnnained impassive until Triece had left.  Then she let out a
long, low whistle.  Ten thousand bucks.  Damn.  It was almost enough to
make her blow the whistle on Odell.  But that amount of money would
hardly last long if Virginia were unemployed, and she had no doubts
that, if she turned Odell in, the vindictive old woman would return the
favor.

Unfortunately, Virginia's employment opportunities were limited.  Not
many institutions wanted a psychologist who'd been fired with cause
from her last position, much less her last two.

She'd been lucky to find this job after the incident at Sun Meadows.
Thank God Dr.  Wayrick was none too picky about her qualifications or
her background.  And there was certainly no danger that she would
repeat her last mistake--romantic involvement with a client--at this
place.  Dr.  Wayrick paid her slave wages, less than half of what she'd
made at the swanky rehab clinic.  Could anyone blame her for snapping
up the deal Odell had offered her?

V'h-g'mia didn't like Odell.  She was a pompous, self-effacing
pro--life crusader who would stoop to anything to prevent an abortion.
But she had money, and she paid Vinginia fifty dollars per name and
address of any girl considering terminating her peg nancy When Odell
succeeded in luring one of those girls to the Good Shepherd Maternity
Home, Virginia received a kickback of a thousand bucks--in cash,
tax-free.  So far she had made over two thousand dollars.  It wasn't a
fortune, but it helped pay the bills.

The scheme had seemed a fairly innocent way of earning a few bucks and
undercutting Wayrick's profits.  Of course it was a breach of ethic to
divulge her clients' names to anyone, but only a small breach.  What
was the harm in submitting those mixed-up girls to a bit of
well-meaning pro-life propaganda?

But perhaps there were ramifications Virginia hadn't considered-like
what had happened to the Phelps girl.  Virginia tended to forget her
clients' names as quickly as she learned them, but for some reason she
remembered Marcy Phelps, a chubby blonde who'd looked as if she ought
to be still playing with dolls, not making babies.  Since Marcy had
been frightened at' the prospect of undergoing an abortion, she'd been
an ideal candidate for Odell.  Now she was dead.

Virginia couldn't help wondering.  i.if Marcy had had the abortion,
would she still be alive?  Had pregnancy and birth ruined her life so
thoroughly that she'd jumped to her death?  The radio newscaster hadn't
specified suicide, but that's what Virginia theorized.

The news of Marcy's death had shaken Virginia up more than it should
have.  Lately, she'd started toying with the idea of telling Odell
their deal was off.  Virginia might not be particularly fond of her
clients, but she didn't wish them dead.

The visit from that Triece woman had cemented Vkginia's decision to
disassociate herself from Odell.

She had been supplying Odell with names for more than eight months now
with never a ripple of trouble.  Now, suddenly, two girls had.  come
back to haunt V'uginia within a twenty-four-hour period.

She had about fifteen minutes before her next appointment.  She closed
and locked her office door, then sat down, took a deep breath and
picked up the phone.  Apparently Odell didn't live in Dallas, but she
had a local answering service.  Vkginia dialed the number from
memory.

Later that afternoon, Odell returned the call.  "What is it, Virginia
she demanded without preamble.

"My, you're cheerful today."

"Oh, I'm sorry.  These girls can bleed the good will right out of a
body, sometimes.  Do you have another name for me?  The home's pretty
near full, but I can always make room for one more in the name of the
Lord."

"No more names.  I'm done with that."

A surprised silence followed Virginia's declaration.  "I dont
understand.  Surely you dont think you're being underpaid for your
service."

"It's not the money.  It's my nerves.  A police detective is nosing
around the clinic.  I thought I was going to dissolve in a pool of
sweat before she finished with me."

"Police..."  Odell scarcely breathed the word.  "What did they want?"

"The Arkin girl.  She's missing."

"Amanda Arkin?"

"She's with you, isn't she?"  Virginia demanded, surprisingly anxious
to know whether the girl was safe.

"Heavens, no.  She wouldn't give me the time of day.  I believe she's
quite determined to compound her sin by murdering her baby.  Why did
the police come to you?"

Vhginia tamped down her disappointment.  She'd already started mentally
spending that thousand dollars.  "The last anyone saw of Amanda, she
was on her way to an appointment with me, and her father knew about it.
She sure picked a lousy time to go haywire and split.  You're just
lucky I didn't mention your name.  I was sure Amanda was at the
home."

Odell gasped.  "Are you crazy?  Don't even think of telling anyone
about our arrangement.  You'll get your license yanked for SUre.  '

"Damn it, Odell, I wouldn't really do that.  I'm not stupid."  "Then
just what did you tell them?"

"I said that Amanda was a very troubled girl, and that I wasn't
surprised she'd run off.  That's not exactly the truth--"

"Good, that's good," Odell said in soothing tones, apparently
uninterested in the truth.  "Maybe I got to her after all.  I'm glad to
hear she hasn't gone through with the abortion, at any rate.  Now,
what's this about you not giving me any more names?"  She spoke as if
she were scolding a puppy.

"I won't.  I mean it, Odell.  I dont like lying to the police.  And
then there was the Phelps girl.  I assume you know about that case."

Odell clicked her tongue.  "Yes, I sure do.  It near broke my heart
when I read about it in this too ming paper.  She was a lost soul, that
one.  Never did fit in here, although I tried hard to help her.

She only stayed with me a couple of months, and then she ran off." 
"Ran off?  And the police couldn't find her?"  "Apparently not."

Virginia vaguely remembered hearing something about the girl being
missing for a while.  She hadn't paid very close httention, though.

"I count Marcy as one of my failures," Odell went on, though I did
accomplish my primary goal.  By the time she left, she was too far
along to have an abortion."

Bully for you, Virginia wanted to say.  Poor Marcy.  She pr bly would
have had a better life if she'd never heard of Odell.  Sshe didn't have
a life at all.  And the poor baby.  What had bee of it?

"Won't you reconsider, about the names?"  Odell asked i most wheedling
voice.  "Don't think of yourself, think of the N you're saving."

"No.  Our association is finished."

Odell sucked in a sharp breath.  "I could ruin you, you know I wilt to
your boss--"

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Don't be too sure.  I've got nothing to l se.  I've done nol illegal
or immoral.  You, on the other hand ..."  Her words tr off, and she let
her silence speak for her.

"I'll have to think about it," V'Lrginia finally said, galled that was
being blackmailed by the likes of Odell, whose last name didn't even
know.

"That's all I'm asking."

Virginia hung up and blotted her damp forehead with a ti Christ, she'd
never thought her lucrative little side business w, get so
complicated.

"Has that Arkin girl shown up yet?"  Tony asked as he swi his chair to
face Caro's desk, again stuffing bubblegum into his mouth.  Green-apple
flavored, this time.

"Not yet.  I talked to the psychologist she was seeing, V'n Dreyfus.
She said Amanda was very mixed up.  She wanted abortion, but she'd been
raised Catholic."

"That's a problem, all right," Tony commented dryly.  " else did the
shrink say?"

"Precious little.  She wasn't the least bit surprised to Amanda had
disappeared, though.  She said Amanda pro needed to get away from her
father's pressure tactics and make decision on her own."

"I thought Arkin told you he was being very supportiw matter what
Amanda decided."

Cato sighed.  "Yeah.  I guess I can't hold that against him.  idea of
supportive might be very different from Amanda's, though He's
remembering what he wants to remember.  What I against him is those
damn fliers he put up, offering the thousand-dollar reward.  Suddenly
Amanda's being spot led at every Burger King and bowling alley from
Plano to Oak Cliff.  But given the slim progress I've made so far, I've
had to follow every damn one of those leads."

"You dont have anything else solid?"

Cato shook her head dismally.  "I've checked all of her favorite
hangouts, right down to the library and her church.  No one's seen her
or the car.  Her friends seem surprised over her disappearance, and
none of them has any idea where she would go.  There's been no activity
in her checking account, which isn't surprising.  Her balance is under
ten dollars.  Nothing on the credit cards, either, but it's early yet.
The Denton police are cooperating, looking for leads up where she went
to school.  So far, nothing."

"What about the boyfriend?"?

Caro gave an unladylike snort.  "Oh, yes, Scott.  He's so concerned he
went off on a skiing vacation with his family."

"So you haven't talked to' him

"Can't find him.  But according to his friends he's due back home on
Tuesday.  Want to come with me when I question him?"  Cato usually
worked on her own, as did all of the Missing PersOns investigators, but
there were times she enjoyed having Tony and his black, intimidating
glares with her.

"My pleasure," Tony said with an evil smile.

Chloe Krill bottle-fed her sleepy newborn as she read the Metropolitan
section, spread out over the kitchen table.  The article about poor
Marcy Phelps fascinated her, and she read it over and over.  She
couldn't shake the feeling that she'd heard the name he-fore.  Maybe
she'd read something about the girl when she'd first disappeared.

Normally, Chloe didn't share her husband's morbid curiosity about crime
news.  Don was on the city council, so she supposed he had a legitimate
need to stay up on that kind of thing.  But she was usually much too
busy with her charity work and running her household to pay attention
to the news.  Sometimes she scanned the society pages, to see if she or
one of her friends were pictured, and the food section for new recipes,
but that was about it.

Her habits had changed, however, since Justin's arrival a week ago. Now
she was homebound.  She hadn't realized, until she undertook the care
of her newly adopted son, how addicted she was to her freedom to come
and go as she pleased.  Why, before Justin, she could, on a whim, hop
in her car to visit friends, have lunch at the country club or indulge
in an afternoon shopping spree.

It wasn't that Chloe was bored.  Justin kept her plenty busy, so busy
that she was already thinking about hiring a nanny for him.  But she
craved contact with the oulside world.  Thus, her newfound interest in
the newspaper.

Although them were a terrifying number of heinous crimes detailed in
the paper, the Marcy Phelps ease held a special fascination for Chloe.
Perhaps it was because Marcy had died in childbirth.

Chloe could relate to that.  She had been pregnant thn times.  The
first two pregnancies had ended in miscarriage; the third child had
been stillborn, and his birth had nearly killed her.  Thank God she'd
had the very best in medical care, or she too, might have ended up like
poor Marcy.

How very lucky she was, Chloe thought as she gazed down lovingly at her
new son.  His tiny rosebud mouth was lax now as he slept.  She set the
bottle down and gently blotted a drop of formula from his chin.

After losing three babies, Chloe had all but given up on being a
mother.  Her doctor had cautioned her not to risk another pregnancy.
She was thirty-five, and Don, forty-five; adoption agencies considered
them too old to qualify for a healthy white baby.  Even those agencies
that would put the Krills on a waiting list had said it would be years
before they could adopt.

A chance comment Don had made to their attorney, Travis Beaman, about
the'tr frustration had spurred Travis to help.  He had made several
discreet inquiries among his associates and clients, and one of them
had come up with a pregnant teenage daughter who desperately wanted to
give up her baby to wealthy, caring parents like the Krills.

The arrangements hadn't been made cheaply, but was anything cheap these
days?  Chloe would have been willing to pay anything, anything, for a
baby of her own.  She'd hardly blinked as Don had written out the check
for forty-eight thousand dollars and change, which covered legal and
medical fees.  And she hadn't asked too many questions, even though
she'd suspected that her own husband knew more than she did about the
circumstances surrounding Justin's birth.  Don had cautioned her, once,
not to rock the boat, and she'd kept her mouth closed.

Chloe stood slowly so as not to disturb the sleeping baby, intent on
closing the newspaper and taking Justin to his crib for his afternoon
nap.  But some odd compulsion made her pause and read over the article
about Marcy Phelps yet again.

The body had been found on Wednesday, and the medical examiner said
she'd been dead for about a week.  That meant she'd given birth on or
about Dexmher 13--which was exactly Justin's birthdate.

This realization really bothered Chloe.  Here was Justin, safe, warm
and loved, while out there somewhere, Marcy Phelps's baby, born on the
same day, was in God-knew-who's hands, possibly cold, hungry, in
danger.

Chloe's eyes moistened with tears.  Why would anyone hide the birth of
an unwanted child when there were thousands of parents, jSomt like her
a.d. Don, who would welcome a baby with open arms?  cone would give
that Phelps girl's baby a happy home, if only the child could be found.
This was so senseless.

Marcy Phelps.  Marcy.  Miss Phelps.  Is that where she'd heard the
name?  Whispered between her husband and her lawyer?  Or murmured on
one of the many occasions when Don talked in his sleep?

She studied the picture of Marcy Phelps--smiling, happy, just a baby
herself.  Then she looked down at Justin's chubby cheeks and blond
peach fuzz.  Her gaze darted back and forth between the black-and-white
photo and her own sleeping child.

Suddenly she realized she was looking for a resemblanee.

A sick feeling began in the pit of her stomach, working its way slowly
toward her throat.

Chapter3

Terri Zamasko watched the new girl carefully, always on the lookout for
an ally.  Odell had called the girl Amanda.  She seemed older than most
of the others here, even older than Terri herself, and hopefully that
meant she wasn't as naive as the others, either.  Honestly, Terri
couldn't believe how easily the old lady led these morons toward the
slaughter like a bunch of sheep.

Odell sat at the head of the long, rough-plank dinner table.  Amanda
sat to her immediate left, sullenly chewing on her roast beef and new
potatoes.  She sported a fresh bruise under her left eye, marring an
otherwise flawless face.  Terri wondered what other bruises were on
Amanda's body.

The routine was the same for every new girl, as far as Terri could
figure.  She was brought in unconscious and locked in her room.  When
she woke up she screamed and hollered or cried for hours, but
eventually she would quiet down, exhausted, hungry.  If she promised to
behave, she was allowed to enter into a more normal routine, which
included group meals, outdoor exercise, work details and occasionally
some television.

If the girl refused to cooperate, she was kept isolaled.  If she was
rude or insolent to Odell, she might even get a slap or two.  The
really unmanageable girls were tea ted to a stint in the dungeon--the
dank, filthy cellar.  It didn't take any girl long in that place to see
the light.

The slaps weren't that bad.  Hell, Tern's old man had occasionally
roughed her up worse than Odell did.  It was the food given to her when
she was in isolation that finally did Terri in.  While subsisting on
cold, unappetizing leftovers--and little enough of them--she kept
smelling beef stew, corn on the cob and mouth-watering baked goods.
After two days, she had finally decided that her chances of getting out
of this hellhole would be better if she were allowed out of
isolation.

Most of the girls reached this conclusion after only a few hours. 
Terri had held the record, until Amanda.  Amanda had remained locked in
her room for almost three days.

That fact was encouraging to Terri.  The other factor that played into
her hands was that Amanda had taken over Marcy's old room, right under
Tern's.  The floors and walls of this big old farmhouse were thickly
insulaWxl, so Terri hadn't been able to understand what all was said
between Amanda and Odell.  But she heard every time Amanda pitched a
screaming fit, which had been often.  And if the girl was as smart as
she looked, Terri would be able to communicate with her.

Terri listened with half an ear to Odell, who was at this moment
preaching from the Bible.  Today was Christmas Eve, and that gave the
old woman lots of material to brainwash with.  Sooner or later she
would ask Terri a question, and if Terri didn't know the answer, she
wouldn't get her dessert.  Normally that didn't matter, but she'd
smelled cherry pie, her favorite, coming from the kitchen.

Odell, however, wasn't of a mind to pick on Terri tonight.  Her sights
were set on the new girl.  She stopped mid-sentence and laid down her
Bible.  "Amanda, you aren't eating your green beans."  "I dont like
green beans," she mumbled, her eyes downcast.

"That's unfortunate, because you have to eat them.  You want the best
nutrition for your baby, right?"

This time Amanda looked up, her blue eyes staring daggers into Odell's
body.  "I won't eat green beans," she said, clearly enunciating every
word.  "They make me throw up."

Terri could almost see the steam rising off Odell's face, which was
turning an unbecoming shade of red.  Slowly she came out of her chair
and then she struck like a snake, grabbing Amanda's ann and jerking her
off the end of the bench.

"You dare criticize the bounty the good Lord has provided for you?  You
have a roof over your head and a decent meal in front of you.  God has
seen fit to save you from committing mortal sin.  You have no right to
be ungrateful.  Now, you will apologize to me and to the other girls
for disturbing this wonderful meal, and you'll eat every green bean on
that plate."

"Like hell."

The other girls kept their eyes downcast and continued eating, but
Terri stared in wide-eyed admiration.  She'd hardly ever seen anyone
talk back to the old witch like that.  She could tell Odell was itching
to slap Amanda, but she seldom did that in front of witnesses.  She
probably didn't want to engender any sympathy from the other girls.

Instead she turned to her helper, the hulking Henry, who was as loyal
as Odell's dogs but certainly not as smart.  He wasn't retarded,
exactly, but there seemed to be something definitely wrong with him,
the way he talked to himself and made those weird faces.  "Henry, take
Amanda to her room, please.  Apparently she needs a few more lessons in
humility."

Henry, who was seated at the other end of the table shoveling down his
food, now stood and impassively moved around to take Amanda by the arm.
When she resisted, he just pulled a little harder until she was forced
to follow him or be dragged.  His moon face registered little
expression except a slight upturn at the corners of his mouth.  Terri
suspected he enjoyed exercising his brawn.

Odell sat back down with a self-satisfied smile.  "Now, where were we?
Ah, yes, the Three Wise Men.  Terri, can you tell me what gifts the
Magi brought to the Christ child?"

For once Terri knew the answer.  But she realized she would be blowing
a golden opportunity if she gave the correct response.  With a small
pang of remorse for that cherry pie, she answered, "Oh, I think they
brought some sheep, so Mary could make a wool blanket to keep him
warm."  At Odell's outraged expression, Terri added, "Well, damn it, I
know you said something about sheep."  "Young lady, have we not talked
about the use of profanity?"

Odell wasn't mad enough, Terri decided.  "Yeah, you've talked my
goddamn ear off about it!"

That did it.  For the second time that night, Odell's complexion
approached purple.  "Henry!"  she bellowed.

Henry shuffled into the dining room, having just returned from his
first mission.  "Yes, ma'am?"

"Take Terri to her room, also.  And the next girl who shows such
disrespect will get worse."

Henry damped his beefy hand around Tern's arm.  She made a show of
resentment, but only until she was out of Odell's sight.  This was
exactly what she'd wanted.  If she were to have any chance of
establishing communication with Amanda, she would have to do it when
everyone was busy somewhere else.

Henry more or less threw Terri into her room and slammed the door.  She
listened to the scrape of the deadbolt and the sound of

I-Ien's scuffing footsteps treating down the hall.  Then all was
quiet.

Terri turned on the light and put her ear to the floor.  Nothing.
Quickly she sat on the bd and pulled off one of her shoes, an ugly
oxford Odell had provided when Tern's running shoes, which she'd been
wearing when she was kidnapped, had fallen apart.  The shoe was utterly
unfashionable, but it did possess oae redeeming quality: a hard heel
with a sharp corner.  Terri had often fantasized about using the shoe
as a weapon; this was the next best thing.

In one corner of her room, which was next to the bathroom, a set of
water pipes protruded, covered with pink insulation.  Terri carefully
removed the insulation, so that she could put it back when she was done
with her experiment.  Presumably the pipes extended into Amanda's room
as well.

Terri gave one of the pipes a sharp whack with her shoe.  It gave a
resounding, satisfying dang.  Worried that she might alert someone
other than Amanda, she put a little less oomph into the next strike,
finding avolume that pleased her.

Now, how would Amanda distinguish Tern's clangs from the normal
protests of the old pipes?  The only thing she could think of was
"shave and a haircut, two bits."  Surely anyone would recognize that.
She clanged out the first five beats, then waited.  Nothing.

She did it again.  "C'mon, Amanda," she murmured, "wake up and smell
the coffee."

Still nothing.

She tried a third, fourth and fifth time.  She was about to give up,
concluding that Amanda either couldn't hear her or was ignoring her
like the other girls, when she heard a tentative dunk, dunk.

Hallelujah!  Communication at last.  She had no idea where to proceed
from here, but she did know that somehow, she and Amanda would learn
how to talk through this tenuous link they had found.

It was Christmas Day, the happiest day of the Year if you had family
and friends with whom you could eat turkey and dressing, rip open
packages, sing carols and watch football.  But for Cato it was a
depressing day.  The weather, chilly and overcast, matched her mood,
and the cold she'd picked up didn't help matters.

She had decided to work straight through Christmas, afraid that if she
abandoned her vigil over the phone, even for a day, she would miss the
break she was looking for in the Arkin case.  Not that she would miss
much at home.  She didn't have atree.  She might have sat alone in
front of the fireplace, nursing a cup of egg hog opening the presents
her parents had sent from Florida, and letting her cat play with the
ribbons.  It wasn't a pretty picture, and though she was due a holiday,
she preferred keeping herself busy.

But her vigilance wasn't paying off.  Although she had dutifully
followed several more leads, courtesy of Russ Arkin's infernal fliers,
all had been dead ends.  Signs were pointing to foul play; if something
didn't break today, she would have to concede defeat and turn the case
over to CAPERS.

She popped another cold pill, washed it down with hot tea, then blew
her nose and tossed the tissue into her overflowing trash can.

She had a new batch of cases to work on.  One was another runaway--a
boy, this time.  He'd split twice before, and both times

Cato had found him bunking with his older brother in San Antonio She
had no reason to believe this time would be different.

In a matter of minutm she had the boy on the line and had convinced
him.  that if he didn't return home, the police would drag him back, as
they had the two previous times.  She also reminded him that in another
four months he would he seventeen--an adult in

Texas--and he could go wherever he damn well pleased.  She strongly
advised him to bide his time.  She didn't want his file to cross her
desk again.

She was about to call the parents and let them know their darling was
safe when a shadow fell across her desk.  She looked up to find Russell
Arkin standing there, looking a little worse for wear.

He was in casual clothes today, a sweatshirt and gray double-knit
slacks.  His hair was barely combed, if at all, and he obviously hadn't
shaved.

The shadow of beard on his slightly puffy face looked singularly out of
place on a man whom Cato guessed was usually well groomed.  His pale
blue eyes were filled with accusation.

"Mr.  Arkin," she said, rising slowly and offering him her hand.

He declined to take it.  "Why aren't you out looking for my
daughter?"

"I have been," she said just a shade too defensively.  She'd been
knocking herself out over this case.  She didn't need to be second
guessed by some guy who thought he knew more about investigation
techniques than she did, simply because he was male.  "Those fliers you
put up have generated dozens of phone calls, most of them from melt
pots wanting to cash in on the ten thousand.

fortunately, all those bogus leads have been wasting valuable time."

Her words had the desired effect.  The fire of accusation're ceded from
Russell Arkin's eyes.  He searched for a chair, found

one several feet away, pulled it close to Caro's desk and made himself
at home in it.

Caro hoped he wasn't planning to take root there.

"Why dont you tell me what progress you have made?"  he asked.

Cato expelled a long breath through pursed lips, trying to decide how
much she owed him She felt sorry for the man, she really did.  He was
obviously worried to the point of exhaustion about his daughter.  But
that didn't mean he was privy to the details of her investigation.

As if there were any details.

All at once, she decided that if she acted like a know-it-all and
withheld information from Arkin, it would only be because she was
insecure about her lack of progress.  And anyway, it was in her best
interest to cultivate Arkin's cooperation.  He might yet prove
helpful.

"How long has it been since you ate something?"  she asked.

He blinked owlishly at her, obviously taken aback by the question.

She stood abruptly.  "The barbecue place across the street is open on
Christmas," she said.  "It's not turkey and dressing, but it's good.
I'll give you an update while we eat lunch."  She put her beeper on her
belt, grabbed the quilted jacket off the back of her chair and headed
for the exit, giving him no choice but to follow.

Harwood Street was empty of traffic.  The only people moving around
were a wino, staggering down the sidewalk with his paper bag clutched
to his chest, and the parking lot attendant, who paced outside his
booth, stamping off the cold.  The restaurant, however, was teeming
with business, mostly the unfortunate city employees from the old
Police and Courts Building across the street who had to work on
Christmas.

"This is the only place I know of where you can get a snout sandwich,"
Caro commented as she and Arkin waited at the counter.

Arkin made a face.  "Does it have nostrils?"

"U-h-huh.  Smells good, too."

He tried, and failed, to hide a small smile.

Good, Caro thought.  He must not be in too bad a shape if he could find
humor in her crummy jokes.  She ordered them both a large combo
sandwich, fries and iced tea, then paid for it all before he could even
come up with his wallet.  She expected that under normal circumstances
he wouldn't stand for that.  There was just enough of the macho male in
him to want to pay for a lady's lunch, even when their respective
gender roles had nothing to do with this outing.  But his overriding
anxiety about his daughter had seemingly hum bed him to the point that
he just didn't care about anything else.

As soon as they were seated, Cato jumped into her explanations.  "The
fact of the matter, Mr.  Arkin, is that at this point I'm simply
waiting for a break.  The department has issued a local BOLO--Be on the
Lookout--for Amanda.  That means every Dallas patrol officer has access
to descriptions of both her and the car.  The car is usually our best
lead in a case like this.

"I've talked to all of Amanda's friends, including several from her
dormitory at North Texas, her high school friends, your neighbors and
the people at the family planning clinic.  Of those who knew she was
pregnant, most agree with your that she was handling the problem well,
and that you weren't putting a lot of pressure on her."

Arkin's french fry halted midway to his mouth.  "Most?  Who said
differently?"

Caro couldn't legally reveal what Virginia Dreyfus had said.  The
subpoena had given Cato authority to see the information, not spread it
around.  "I can't answer that," Caro said smoothly.  "All I can tell
you is that I still feel it's a strong possibility Amanda disappeared
of her own accord."

She could actually see Arkin's whole body stiffen with anger.  "I hope
to hell you're right.  But in my gut I know you're dead wrong."

Cato didn't appreciate his choice of words.  She abruptly changed the
subject.  "The only person I haven't been able to question is Scott
Humphrey.  His family's skiing vacation seems rather too convenient,
dont you think?  I thought you said he was distraught over Amanda's
disappearance."

"He was.  He is.  But ... well, his parents dont know about Amanda
being pregnant.  He figured if he tried to opt out of the family
vacation, his folks would want to know why and then everything would
hit the fan."

"And what a shame that would be.  Would Scotty have his allowance taken
away?  Maybe that fancy car he drives?"  Although Caro hadn't been able
to talk to Scott directly, Amanda's friends had plenty to say about
him.  He was in premed at North Texas, training to be a doctor like his
old man.  And he had money and social connections out the wazoo.

"You can joke if you want, but I frankly dont blame the kid.  The
Humphreys aren't easy people.  Sure, they provide Scott with a lot of
material things, but they put tremendous pressure on him as well.  I
can't even predict how they would react if they found out Scott had
lathered a child, but it wouldn't be pleasant."

This shed a new light on things.  All along, Cato had been operating on
the premise that Amanda wanted an abortion, and her father, as well as
her Catholic background, was pressuring her in the other direction. But
what if Amanda wanted to have the child and her boyfriend had pressured
her to terminate the pregnancy?  "What did Scott want Amanda to do?" 
she asked Arkin.  "He said thodecision was hers to make."

"But what did he want?  He must have had an opinion."  Arkin remained
silent a long time before answering.  "He never said as much, but I
think he was hoping she would have the abortion.  But Scotes a good
kid.  Even after all that's happened, I hope he and Amanda stay
together.  He's the kind of boy I always hoped she would marry.  And I
can't imagine, in my wildest dreams, that he would lean on her or argue
with her about this pregnancy.  Above all, he wanted what was best for
Amanda.  And I think if she'd wanted to marry him and have the baby, he
would have done it and made the best of it."

Or was that just more wishful thinking on Daddy's part?  Cato wondered.
Then another thought oconnxt to her.  "Could Amanda have gone with the
Humphreys to Colorado?"

"Not a chance in hell," Arkin said with absolute certainty.  "scott's
parents made life miserable for Amanda whenever she was around them.
They wouldn't have tolerated her on their family trip, and she
certainly wouldn't have willingly submitted herself to their put-downs.
Besides, if she'd wanted to go to Colorado, I wouldn't have objected
and she knows that.  She would have told me she was going."

Another scenario occurred to Cato, although she didn't voice it aloud.
Suppose Scott had op led out of the vacation by faking illness or
something like that?  Coughing and sneezing, he would have urged his
parents to go on to Colorado and enjoy themselves.  The moment the
coast was dear, he could have rendezvoused with Amanda, and the two of
them might be, even now, honeymooning in Vegas.

Or, paralyzed with fear over the prospect of seeing his career plans
derailed because of this unplanned pregnancy, he'd done away with
Amanda.  Given his own disappearance, Scott's involvement seemed more
likely with evej passing hour.  Cato wished she had the manpower and
the clout to call all the airlines and track down the Humphreys.

She was glad to see Arkin doing justice to his sandwich.  He finished
the last bite, then took several gulps of sweetened tea.

"You want another?"  she asked.

"No, thanks.  My stomach isn't sure what to do with the first one.  I
guess I haven't really eaten in a couple of days."

"I didn't figure you had."

"Corporal Triece... do I have to call you that?  It seems so
for-real."

"My first name is Carolyn, Caro for short."  Normally she didn't invite
that kind of intimacy.  With her diminutive stature and little-girl
face, she had enough trouble maintaining an authoritative image.  But
he was right; titles and last names seemed silly when they were sitting
here in Dave's Dive sharing a Christmas dinner of barbecue
sandwiches.

He nodded.  "I'm Russ.  I was about to ask you--"

Whatever his burning question, Caro's beeper interrupted it.  She
silenced it with a jab of her finger and glanced toward the pay phone,
over which an elderly woman in a pseudo leopard-skin coat had firm
control.  She'd been standing there talking for at least fifteen
minutes.

Arkin--Russ, Caro reminded herself--watched her anxiously.  "Do you
think it could be something about Amanda?"

"I have six other cases besides your daughter's," she reminded him. But
in her gut, she knew her sergeant wouldn't beep her during her lunch
break unless something major had come down.

Her own sandwich was only half finished.  With regret she left it
behind, shrugging into her jacket as she headed for the door.  Russ was
right behind her.

"I'll contact you if I learn anything new with Amanda's case," she said
as she shouldered the door open, meeting a blast of cold air.

He didn't take the hint, and instead followed her like a bird dog on
the scent.  Damn it, if this was about Amanda, she didn't want her
father to hear unpleasant news just blurted out.  She would much prefer
to synthesize any information, filter it, close it out to him in
amounts he could manage.  But he insisted on following her up to the
third floor.

Sergeant Nona Quayar, Caro's immediate supervisor, was waiting for her.
"Corporal G-xeene in Auto Theft has some information for you," she
said, her gaze darting from Caro to Arkin and back.  The crease of
worry between Nona's eyebrows told Cato more than words could have.

Her call to Dirk Greene only confirmed her suspicions.  "Whateha got
for me?"  she asked him in a deceptively casual voice.

"The Arkin girl's car has been found.  Couple of fourteen-year-olds
were joyriding just outside of Taryton and smashed it into a telephone
pole.  Authorities there ran a registration on it, traced it to the
girl's father and tried to notify him.  But when they got some weird
message on his answering machine, they decided to check here to see if
the car had recently been reported stolen.  I remembered seeing the
memo on it."

"Where did the boys find the car?"

"They say they found it abandoned down by the river with the keys in
it."

Care paused to blow her nose and collect her thoughts.  It was
essential that everything get handled just right.  "Any sign of
Amanda?"  she asked automatically.  Her words caused Arkin's complexion
to visibly pale, but she couldn't take time out to worry about his
sensibilities.  She'd told him to leave, after all.

"One of the boys isn't very cooperative, but the other says they saw
who abandoned the car.  There was no clothing found in the car, no
obvious bloodstains or other signs of struggle."  "Where's the car
now?"  she asked.  "At the Taryton police's impound lot."

"I'll have it towed here," she said, thinking out loud.  "I want it
gone over with a microscope, and the eidence guys can do a better job
here than there.  I also want to question those kids."  Her mind raced.
To question the joyriders meant a trip to Taryton.

Well, a nice long drive would get her out of the office, anyway.  She
took down all the pertinent information from Greene and thanked him for
his alert response.  As she hung up, she saw Quayar scowling at her
from across the room.

Care already knew what her supervisor would Say: Turn the case over to
CAPERS.  Amanda had been missing for four days.  With the car recovered
and no sign of its owner, there was sufficient evidence to indicate
foul play.

Care made a beeline for Nona's desk.  "I'd like to keep the Arkin case
for one more day," she said without preamble.  "If I transfer it to
CAPERS now, the afternoon will be wasted while the new lead detective
plays catch-up, and there's a lot to be done."

Nona's scowl deepened.

"There's no hard evidence of foul play, no blood or clothing or signs
of struggle in the car."

"What's going on with your other cases?"  the sergeant asked.  Care was
about to answer when Tony strolled into the room.  Both women stared at
him.  "What are you doing here?"  Quayar demanded.

"A little.  too much family togetherness," he said with a shrug."  "Is
thin a problem?"

Tony was Caro's salvation.  "Tony, of' buddy, of'pal, how'd ya like to
over a couple of my cases so I can make a trip to

Taryton?  I got a break on the Arkin case.,"

"Sure, no problem."

Nona nodded grudgingly.  "You have till noon tomorrow," she said to
Cato.  "Just be sure you dont sorew not bing up, or CAPERS will be all
over both our butts."

"Yes, ma'am," Caro replied, adding the ma'am at the last moment.  She
noticed then that Arkin was still hanging around, listening to the
police officers with an attentive ear and a pasty face.  "Cheer up,"
she said as' she returned to her desk, intending to gather together her
active caSes so she could brief Tony.  "This is the break we've been
looking for.  We've got a big hunk of physical evidence in the form of
Amanda's car, and a couple of witnesses to boot."

She didn't add that finding Amanda's car minus Amanda was actually a
very bad sign, but she didn't have to.  Judging from the look of dread
on Arkin's face, he knew all too well.

Chapter 4

Tamton was like many other small east Texas towns, a farming community
past its prime with a crumbling, seedy-looking down.

town, a long-abandoned train station, and a water tower bearing a faded
Home of the Fightin' Taryton Tigers painted on the side

Cato had grown up in just such a town, where her father had been a
deputy sheriff and her mother a police dispatcher.  She had learned to
love law enforcement at their knees, and there had never been any
question as to what career she would choose.

Her decision to work on the police force of a big city had fled her
parents at first.  But she'd been determined to take what her.

father had done one step further.  She'd longed to immerse herself in
crime-solving.  Stolen bicycles and an occasional domestic disturbance
weren't enough to challenge her, she'd maintained.

As the years passed and she managed to stay out of while earning
several promotions and commendations, her gradually had relaxed and
accepted her choice.

Now she was the one questioning her career path.  It wasn't danger that
got to her.  Hell, as a missing persons investigato rarely put herself
at any significant risk.  What was bother her was the futility, the
sameness, the feeling that no matter how many missing people she found,
no how criminals she helped bring in, there was a take their place.

There was also that higgling certainty, growing stronger every day,
that justice had little to do with who went to jail and for how long.

As she drove down Taryton's main street, past the Mayfair Beauty Shop,
Arlene's Flowers and the All-Welcome Insurance Agency, Cato wondered
why she didn't quit the Dallas Police Department and all that pressure.
Surely, if she wanted, she could find a position keeping the peace in a
little town like this, where it was big news when a couple of
fourteen-year-olds stole a car and to-tailed it.

She had already questioned one of the boys who had Crashed Amanda
Arkin's car, a belligerent little snot with the unfortunate name of
Dustin Upton.  Obviously well coached by his attorney, his story had
remained maddeningly static and unhelpful.  He said his friend Chucky
had picked him up in the red Cavalier, and Chucky hadn't said where the
car had come from.  Dustin hadn't suspected the car was stolen.  He
never actually drove the car himself, and he hadn't touched a drop of
alcohol all night.

The kid obviously was lying through the teeth, but Cato had been unable
to make any progress.  The local investigating officer, a seemingly
sharp guy named Tom Breedlove, had warned her that she would be up
against a brick wall.  He hadn't had any better luck with Dustin.

I've really sunk to the lowest depths when I can't crack a crummy
juvenile car thief, she mused grimly.

She hoped the other boy, who had been shaken up pretty badly in the
accident, would prove more fertile ground.  Chucky Hoffman was still in
the hospital with several broken bones and lacerations.  He hadn't yet
admitted to stealing any car, but his emergency room blood tests had
revealed an astonishingly high alcohol content, so his legal footing
was shakier than his friend's.  Furthermore, he already had a juvenile
record for breaking and entering.

He ought to be plenty scared.

As she pulled into a visitor's parking place beside the one-story
hospital, she reviewed her strategy.  She would go soft at first,
sympathetic to Chucky's pain and to the dilemma he found himself in.
She would emphasize that she wasn't interested in his guilt or
innocence, only with information that would help locate Amanda Arkin.
And she would plain how helpful he could he in finding the lost
girl--who could just as easily he his sister or his girlfriendwbefore
any harm came to her.

If Chucky was unmoved by the tender approach, she would threaten to
stuff his IV bag down his throat.

As it turned out, none of her carefully orchestrated tactics
necessary.  Two men, casually but neatly dressed, the moment she asked
at the front desk for Chucky Hoffman'a:

room.

"Are you... are you Corporal Triece?"  the taller Of the two asked, his
disbelief evident.  He was slim and attractive in of way, with
perfectly styled, short blond hair, wire-rimmed glasses, manicured
fingernails and a Bermuda tan.  If it had been any day but Christmas,
she decided, he would have been wearing a double-breasted suit instead
of razor-creased khaki trousers and a designer flannel shirt.

He had to be a lawyer.

She rolled her eyes and Showed him her badge, primed for an.  other
battle.  When would she get a few gray hairs and a wrinkle or two?

The man surprised her by flashing an oily smile.  ".I'm B.a. Seddle,
Chucky's attorney.  And this is Assistant DA Jonn calvin.  We
understand you're interested in the car Chucky allegedly stole."

Allegedly, right.  Caro nodded.  "The car belongs to a Dallas teenager
who's been missing for several days.  Anything Chucky can tell me about
how and when he came into possession of the

"Alleged possession," Barry reminded her.

"--might help find the girl," she continued without missing a beat.

Barry adjusted his glasses.  "Naturally, I would want Chuck to offer
his full cooperation.  However, the risk of his accidentally
incriminating himself..."

It didn't take long for Caro to figure out the game here.  She turned
to the dapper, young ADA, who looked anything but happy to be hanging
around the hospital when he could be home with his family.  "Mr.
Calvin, is it?"

He nodded.  Although neat and conservative-looking, he didn't reek of
wealth the way Barry Seddle did.

"Amanda Arkin has been missing for four days," she said, her tone
deliberately grave.  "Now that her car has turned up and she hasn't, I
have to suspect foul play.  If Chucky knows anything, or if he saw
anything, it could be the break I'm looking for.  And it might be the
difference between life and death for Amanda."  When she saw that her
bit of melodrama had no effect on John Calvin,

she added in a more matter-of-fact tone, "I really need for him to

' ks"

be honest with me--without watching every word he spca .

"Well, there you go," Barry said to John.  "See, hucky's a witness in a
possible murder case.  Now, wouldn't you like to help

out the Dallas Police Department by granting Chucky immunity?"

John's mouth hardened into a thin line as he pondered the situation.
Finally he spoke.  "If Chucky offers Corporal Triece his full
cooperation, and if he gives me what I want on that little bastard
Dustin Upton, I'll reduce the charge to... unlawful possession of an
alcoholic beverage."

Barry smiled triumphantly.  "Let me talk to Chucky and his dad."  He
strolled off, leaving Cato to cool her heels in the waiting room with
the ADA.

They found a couple of uncomfortable plastic chairs.

"You like working for the county?"  she asked, more to fill the awkward
silence than out of any real desire to know,

He shrugged.  "I'd rather put little scumbags like Upton and Hoffman in
jail than defend them, even if the pay's lousy.  But I hate cutting
deals."

"Yeah, I know what you mean.  We haul 'era in, and the defense lawyers
get 'era out."

There was another uncomfortable pause before John spoke again.  "So you
think the girl was murdered?"

Caro shuddered as Russ-Arkin's chilling prediction about finding Amanda
in a ditch came back to haunt her.  "I'll know more when I get the
evidence report back on the car," she replied as casually as she could
manage.  She wasn't supposed to get emotionally involved in her cases,
but in the back of her mind she couldn't help dreading the possibility
that Amanda would end up another Marcy Phelps.  "From what the
investigating officer tells me, there was no obvious blood other than a
little of Chucky's, no clothing, no purse.  Just some empty beer cans."
And no body in the trunk.  She'd asked about that first thing.

"Who was the officer?"  Calvin asked.

"Breedlove."

"Tom.  He's a good man."

"I'm hoping Amanda just decided to ditch the car because she knew the
police would be looking for it by now."  But in her gut, Cato knew that
wasn't the case.

Barry returned a few minutes later, beaming.  Chucky had agreed to the
deal.  He would he allowed to plead guilty to the lesser charge,
provided he cooperated fully in all questioning.  Cato wanted the first
shot.

Considering that Chucky's partner in crime hadn't SUstained even a
scratch in the accident, Cato wasn't prepared for how bad a shape this
kid was in.  He had a full cast on one arm, a splint on one leg, and a
face that looked like someone had stuffed his head into a food
processor.  Yesterday he'd probably been a. good-looking boy--and would
be again, once his plastic surgeon got done, she reminded herself. This
was no time to get soft.

Officer Breedlove showed up in time to sit in on the questioning, and
of course Barry Seddle was there, too.  Chucky, nervous at first,
calmed down after repeated reassurances from his lawyer.  Then he
spilled his guts.

"Me and Upton, we was just messin' around, you know, playing chicken on
the railroad trestle."

"Chicken?"  Cato repeated.

"Yeah.  We'd stand in the middle of the bridge and wait for a train,
then see who ran first.  Ah, you won't tell my mom that part, will
you?"

"No," she assured him.  "And what time was this?"

"I dunno, before midnight, I think.  We had some beer Upton stole from
his icebox at home.  His dad drinks tons."

Cato was uninterested in this part.  "Go on."

"Anyway, we saw these car lights down on the riverbank, where there's
not even a road.  So we got closer, you know, thinking maybe some guy
was parking there with his chick and we'd give 'era a scare.  But then
this guy got out and we didn't know him, SOm"

"Are you sure you didn't know him?"  Caro asked.  "It must have been
pretty dark."

"There was a moon.  Anyway, we couldn't see him that good, but we sure
didn't know the car, so we figured we didn't know the guy."  Caro
accepted that explanation for now.  "Okay, go on."  "We!!"  he got out
of the car, and then he pulled a handkerchief or something out of his
pocket and started polishing the car--like you do right after you wash
it, to get all the water spots off.  We laughed about that, 'cause it
was so muddy down there there the car was just gonna get dirty
again."

Caro swallowed.  The mysterious man had obviously been wiping the car
clean of fingerprints.  Hell.

"Then the guy opens the door again, and he reaches inside and puts the
car in gear and starts to push it.  And we realized he was trying to
sink it in the river.  But then it got stuck in the mud and it wouldn't
go any farther.  He pushed it and pulled it and even got in and tried
to drive it, but it was stuck good.  Then he took off running through
the woods."

"What did you do then?"  Cato asked.

"We figured the car had to be stolen or maybe used in a bank robbery or
something, and we thought there might be a ward.  So we found some old
boards and got it unstuck from the mud.  And

$1

since the keys were in it, we thought we'd just drive it back up to the
highway."

"Who was driving?"  Tom Breedlove asked.

Caro shot him a warning look.  What the hell did she care who was
driving?  But these people had their own agenda--nailing Dustin Upton,
who did not seem to be a popular teenager among the legal and law
enforcement communities of Taryton--so she bit her tongue.

"Oh, Upton drove," Chucky said without any further prompting

Breedlove smiled.  "Sorry, Corporal," he said to Cato.

Cato continued her questions.  The kids had intended to turn the car
in, but somehow they never did.  The two six-packs.  of beer they'd
consumed--the empties found in the car--might have impaired their
judgment a wee bit.

"Now, this is really important, Chucky," she said when he'd ended his
story with a graphic description of how the car had become wrapped
around a telephone pole.  "The guy who ditched the car--what did he
look like?  I know you said you couldn't see him real well, but
anything you can remember would help."

Chucky thought for a moment.  "He was big--real big."  "You mean,
fat?"

"No, I mean big like a foot bail player.  And he had a kind of round
face."

"Was he white?  Black?"

"White.  And his hair was medium-colored, you know, not black or blond.
And it was sort of choppy, like he must have cut it himself or
something."

Caro took furious notes.  This was better than she'd expected.  "And
his clothes?"

"Baggy.  Baggy jeans, or overalls, maybe, and a big jacket, like a ski
jacket.  Blue or brown, maybe."

Caro looked to see that Breedlove was taking notes, too.  "You got
that?"

"I'll put the description out right away," he said.

She smiled back at Chucky.  "That's really good.  You have a good
memory.  Is there anything else?  Shoes?  Gloves?"

Chucky closed his eyes, as if trying to visualize.  "Gloves, I just
remembered that.  Work gloves, like my dad wears in his shop.  I dont
member his shoes.  He was standing behind the car most of the time, and
they would have been muddy, anyway."

They went over everything again, but Chucky could add little to the
details he'd already given.  Caro promised she would tell the DA

that Chucky had cooperated marvelously, and the boy almost smiled.

She and Tom Breedlove rode together in his car to the river bank where
Chucky said the mysterious man had abandoned Amanda's car.  Although it
had rained the previous night, the deep tire tracks left by the
Cavalier at the river's edge were still plain.  Any footprints,
however, had been obliterated.  And there were no other obvious clues
lying around.  Still, Breedlove promised to get an evidence person over
to comb the site.  She suspected that in apartment the size of
Taryton's that person might be Breedlove himself.

It was almost dark.  Cato sneezed as she climbed back into Bnllove's
cruiser.  Her last dose of cold medicine was wearing off.  She fished
in her purse for a tissue,-and suddenly she realized she was
bone-tired.  She longed to be home in front of her TV, watch-inc some
inane Christmas special.

On the long drive home, it occurred to her that the sketchy description
of the suspect Chucky had provided could fit a lot of people.  And one
of those people--six-foot-two, two hundred and twenty pounds, already a
star on his college football team--was Scott Humphrey.

How could her father have done this to her?  Amanda asked herself over
and over as she lay on her cot, her stomach rumbling with hunger. She'd
known he was opposed to abortion, but to resort to kidnapping and
putting her into a virtual prison?  That wasn't the Daddy she knew.

It was kind of ironic that if she'd had just a few more hours, she
would have told her father about her decision to keep the baby, and
this nightmare could have been prevented.

If he understood what a hellhole this place was, and how cruel Odell
was, he wouldn't leave her here.  It was Christmas Day, for God's sake,
and she'd been allowed nothing but oatmeal since last night's
green-bean uproar.  Why hadn't her father at least called her?

The only thing that kept her sane was the tapping on her pipes.  She
and her mysterious tapper had Icept it up for almost an hour, repeating
patterns.  It had been reassuring to connect with one of the other
girls, but they'd been unable to truly communicate.  Amanda had tried
Morse Code, which she'd learned so she could pass.  her ham radio
operator's test, but the other girl hacJh't caught on.

She heard the scrape of the deadbolt.  Oh, joy, more leftovers.  Or
maybe she was being allowed another trip to the bathroom.  But it was
Henry who opened the door.

"Aunt Odell says you can come eat Christmas dinner if you promise to
behave like a lady," he said in a deadpan voice.

So, Henry was OdeIFs nephew.  She pondered his invitation for all of
five seconds.  "Okay, no problem."  She would curtsy and apologize to
Odell if it meant a chance at real food.  Even green beans were s
'tatting to sound good.

As she walked out the door and past Henry, he stopped her with a hand
to her arm, then softly touched her hair.  "You have pretty hair," he
said in a gentle voice.

"Uh, thanks," Amanda said nervously, then slipped out of his grasp. She
skittered down the hall well ahead of him.

Amanda's outlook improved considerably when she sat down at the long
plank table.  The turkey dinner smelled heavenly.  And Odell actually
smiled at her.

They all bowed their heads as Odell said grace.  During the in-term
inaNe prayer, Amanda felt a sharp kick under the table.  She managed
not to yelp, but she did crack one eye open.  The very pregnant girl
across from her--Terri?--was staring straight at her,

and she looked like she was holding back a grin.

What the--?

Then Amanda understood.  Tern's foot found Amanda's again, gently this
time, and she tapped out "shave and a haircut, two bits" with her
toe.

So Terri was Amanda's restless upstairs neighbor.

When the prayer ended Amanda started to smile at Terri in earnest, but
the other girl gave her a stern warning frown and an almost
imperceptible shake of her head.

The girls weren't allowed to talk during mealtimes, but surely sin'
fling wasn't taboo!  Still, Amanda heeded the warning.  Terri had
obviously been here awhile, if the s'we of her pregnant stomach was any
indication.

She would have enjoyed the turkey and dressing, mashed potatoes and
corn a lot more if Terri had let her.  But the girl was determined to
communicate something.  Each time she thought she could get away with
it, she would form a letter with her fingers.  E-c-s-a... what the beck
did that mean?  Amanda wondered.  Terri had to stop when Odell asked
her to help clear the table.  But during dessert--a mouth-watering
pecan pie--Terri resumed her gesticulating: P-e.  Eesape?  Oh, escape!
So, Terri was a bad speller.

It suddenly dawned on Amanda what Terri was trying to tell her.

She thought they should try to escape.  Ha, fat chance.  Amanda had
seen the chain-link fence topped with barbed wire that surrounded this
place.  She'd seen Odell's shotgun and her.  two guard dogs.  What
chance did any of them have against those odds?  Sure, she'd like to
get out of here, but she'd just as soon not get shot or maimed in the
process.

Escape.  She shook her head at Terri.

Terri became very agitated after that, so much so that Odell asked her
if she needed to visit the ladies' room.

"No, ma'am," she replied distractedly.  The moment OdeIFs attention was
off her, Terri started with the letters again.  O-r-w-e-d-i'Terri, what
are you doing?"  Odell demanded.

Amanda's heart jumped into her throat.

"My hands itch," Terri complained without missing a heat.  "They always
do in cold weather."

Odell sighed.  "I'll give you some hand lotion before bedtime."  Terri
didn't risk any further communications.  Amanda tried to make sense of
the aborted message.  Orwedi.  Or wedi.  Or we di.  Or we ... die?
Escape or we die.

A chill ran through Amanda, and the pipe tappings took on a new
significance.  They would have to do better than "shave and a haircut"
if she wanted to learn more about Tern's mysterious warning.  Morse
code was the way to go, but how could she teach it to Terri?

Odell surprised everyone by passing out a small wrapped gift to each of
the girls.  Amanda was less pleased with the two pairs of pastel socks
than she was with the wrapping paper.  Surreptitiously she tore off a
small piece, no bigger than a baseball card, and shoved it into her
pocket.

She wondered where she would ever find a pen or pencil.  Fortunately,
Odell unwittingly provided that, too.  After the meal was completed,
the dishes cleared and the wrapping paper thrown out, Odell sent all of
the girls to their rooms for the night.  All but Amanda.

As soon as they were alone, Odell set a piece of paper and a pen on the
table in front of Amanda.  "Are you truly sorry for the way you behaved
yesterday, Amanda?"  she asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

Odell patted her on the shoulder.  "Well, we'll consider it forgotten,
if you'll just do one more thing for me.  I want yo6 to write a letter
to your father.  In it, you'll explain that you need some time alone,
that you're safe, warm, dry and well fed, and he's not to worry about
you."

"But--"

"I'll tell you exactly what to write, and you write it," Odell
persisted, forcibly placing the pen in Amanda's hand.

Amanda's next words were barely above a whisper.  "You told me my dad
knew where I was.  But he doesn't, does he?"

Odell didn't answer the question.  "We'll sit here until that letter is
written," she said instead.  "All night, if we have to."

Amanda didn't doubt it.  "Okay," she said, forcing herself to sound
meek and beaten.  "I'll write whatever you want me to.  But... could I
go to the bathroom first?  All that wonderful food on such an empty
stomach..."  She let the sentence trail off meaningfully.

Odell pursed her lips together in displeasure.  "All right.  You can
use the one right off the kitchen."  She escorted Amanda all the way to
the bathroom door--to be sure she didn't get into the kitchen knives,
no doubt.  But Odell didn't seem to notice that Amanda still held the
pen clutched in her hand.

As soon as she had some privaCY, Amanda made use of the facilities, in
case Odeli was listening.  At the same time, she pulled the piece of
wrapping paper out of her pocket and smoothed it out on the tank lid,
then began writing on the back as fast as she could: A, dot dash.  B,
dash dot dot dot... Technically Cato had until noon before she was
obligated to turn the Axkincase over to CAPERS.  But given what she'd
learned in Taryton the day before, there was no question that foul play
was involved in Amanda's disappearance.  So first thing this morning,
with the approval of Lieutenant Hall and Sergeant Quayar, she had
walked the file downstairs.

To her dismay, Deputy Chief Deacon Raines, who'd been in charge of
CAPERS for as long as Caro could remember, had immediately turned the
case over to Austin Lomax.  She would have much preferred that one of
her buddies from the old days, a seasoned investigator she trusted,
take over Amanda Arkin.  But she knew better than to second-guess the
intractable Chief Raines, who had once been her supervisor.

So she was stuck with Lomax--again.

He was talking on the phone when she approached his desk.  He saw her,
acknowledged her with a nod, then kept right on chatting, forcing her
to stand there like a ninny waiting for him.  It sounded as if he was'
talking to a mechanic.  It was something about car parts, anyway.

Hoping to irritate him, she started casually inventorying his desk.

She picked up a framed photo and examined it.  The subject wasn't the
wife or girlfriend she'd expected, but a huge Labrador re-tricver
sitting in a vintage Jaguar.  She noted three half-empty cups of coffee
in various stages of calcification.  Only carbon dating would reveal
how long they'd been sitting there.  A little orange pot contained an
anemic-looking sprig of ivy, badly in need of watering.  Scott Turow's
latest legal thriller lay open on Lomax's blotter, no more than ten or
fifteen pages read.

In contrast to the mess on the surface of his desk, his half-open file
drawer looked neatly organized, each folder meticulously la-he led She
was relieved to see that he was conscientious in that spect.

She idly picked up the novel and began reading the back cover, even
though she'd already read the book.  A strong hand snatched the
paperback out of her grasp and slapped it back down on the desk.

"Do you mind?"  Lomax said.  "This desk isn't much, but it's all

I've got and I dont like other people poking around on it."

"And I dont like cooling my heels while you schmooze with your mechanic
about your precious Jaguar."

His eyes, which were a particularly electrifying shade of blue, opened
wide with surprise.  "Excuse me, but I dont trust my car to any
mechanic.  I work on it myself.  That phone call was official
business--and none of yours, I might add.  Who put a burr under your
saddle this morning, anyway?"

"You aren't exactly Mr.  Sunshine yourself.

"Yeah, well, rough weekend."

"Me, too."  That was as close to an apology as either one of them was
going to issue, she figured.  "I brought you the Amanda kin file."

"You mean I get your sloppy seconds again?"

She stiffened in momentary outrage.  Her work was not sloppy.  Then she
realized he was grinning.  Teasing her.  Trying to lighten the mood.
And she'd been about to take his careless comment too seriously. Lately
she'd been much too sensitive.

"I guess I'm just not much good with pregnant teenagers," she replied
flippantly.

He sobered.  "Another pregnant girl?  What's the story?"

She told him as much as she knew.  He put on his glasses and scanned
the various documents, asking occasional questions.  He snorted when he
saw the copy of the reward flier with which Russ

Arkin had blanketed the city.  "Peachy," he muttered.  "Have we gotten
the evidence report back on the car yet?"

Caro shook her head.  "Should be any time.  Uh, Lomax, I'd really like
to keep a hand in this case."

He looked up over the top of his glasses.  "Oh?  Why's that?"  "I'm
more familiar with it than anyone.  And it's..."  She hesitated, unsure
if she wanted to really say aloud what was on her mind.

"What?"  Lomax promptf, xt.

She sighed.  "It's just that I feel like I failed Marcy Phelps.  And
now I almost feel personally esponsible for Amanda Arkin--like I'm
getting a chance to redeem myself.  Plus, I think her father has come
to trust me, and I dont want to seem like I'm betraying that trust by
just shuffling this case off on someone else."

Lomax closed the folder sharply.  "I appreciate the offer, Caro, but I
work alone."

Oh, brother.  Of all the arrogant, stupid... What overworked CAPERS
detective turned down an offer of help, no strings attached?  Plus,
she'd heard his partner, Frank Feldman, was out with the flu.  Maybe
Lomax hadn't been working here long enough to feel overworked... yet.

Caro bit her lip until her temper was in check; "Look, Lomax, I dont
have any intention of second-guessing your decisions or stealing your
glory when the ease is solved.  But I know how busy y'all are, and I
dont want this case to languish from a lack of manpower.  So if you
need someone to make phone calls or question a witness, or even keep
the girl's father off your back, I can do it ."

"I'll send up a distress signal if I get overwhelmed," he said with
annoying smugness.

"Okay, fine.  Then I won't tell you what I learned last night when I
dropped by the impound lot to check on Amanda's car.  It's unofficial,
anyway."  She turned and sauntered away from his desk.

Predictably, he followed her.  "What?  You talked to the Physical
Evidence guys?  What'd they say?"

"It'll all be in the official report, which you'll be getting any
moment.  You dont need my input."

"Hey, c'mon, Cato, no fair holding back.  what did you find out?"

My, he was even more curious than she'd bargained for.  Hungry, that's
what he was.  Eager to solve a challenging case and make a name for
himself.  He followed her out the door and up the short flight of
stairs wh'He she did her best to ignore him.  Before she could enter
the Youth Division, however, where Missing Persons was located, he
grabbed her arm and halted her.

"I'll report you to your supervisor for impeding an investigation," he
said.  Although he was grinning, she was half afraid he'd do it.

"I'll report you to your supervisor for refusing an offer of perfectly
good legwork."

He seemed to consider her threat.  Then he released her arm.  "Okay.
Since you are familiar with the case, you can assist in a strictly
secondary capacity.  Just dont make a nuisance of yourself."

"A nuisance?  Do you have any idea how many years I worked in

CAPERS?"

"Four."

That took the starch right out of 'her.  Austin Lomax had been checking
up on her?

"And if you're so hot to work on murder cases," he continued, "what are
you doing in Missing Persons?"

"That's immaterial," she said frost fly Her reasons for requesting a
transfer four years ago were very personal, and not up for discussion.
"Do you want to hear what I found out from PES or not?"

Chapter5

Austin normally enjoyed driving.  His official car was a '90 Ford
Bronco, black, which his department had picked up at an auction of
vehicles seized in a drug raid.  It had plenty of get-up-and-go and was
much more un than the boring four-door sedan he'd had before.

But today driving was a chore.  He was already a little nervous about
the upcoming interviews.  On top of that, the woman riding in his
passenger seat was sorely distracting him.  It wasn't that Cato Triece
was saying or doing anything.  But she didn't have to.  Her light
floral perfume filled the small, enclosed space, reminding him with
every breath that she was here, and he wished she were anywhere else.

Austin was really ticked at himself for letting Caro manipulate him the
way she had, dangling her little bits of information in front of his
nose until he'd lunged for them like a dog after raw meat.

Her information hadn't even been that great.  The Physical Evidence
folks had found traces of blood and skin on the door of Amanda Arkin's
Cavalier, as well as a torn fingernail--probably Amanda's, if the
bright pink polish was anything to go by.  The evidence indicated a
possible struggle in the car.  That was really no surprise at this
point.

Also found in the car were three medium-length gray hairs, which might
or might not have any bearing.

Regardless of what he'd agreed to, Austin hadn't actually intended to
include Cato in the Arkin investigation, not in any meaningful way.
Unfortunately, he'd made the mistake of mentioning Caro's offer of
assistance to the unsmiling Chief Raines.  If he'd known Raines was a
card-carrying member of the Cato Triece Fan Club, Austin would've kept
his mouth shut.  But instead of the support he'd expected, Raines had
ordered him--ordered him--to allow Caro to work on the Arkin ease and
any other case she took an interest in.

Raines had made no secret of the fact that he wanted Cato back in
CAPERS.  This was the fix st time in four years she had shown an
interest in anything outside her own small realm of Missing Persons,
and Raines intended to take advantage.

"You're damn lucky to have her on your side," Raines had said, tapping
Austin on the chest with his finger.

Damn lucky, my ass, Austin thought now.  Cato didn't intend to restrict
her "helpfulness" to-the Arkin case.  On his way out of the Police and
Courts Building this morning he had run square into her.  She'd asked
where he was off to in such a hurry, and he'd told her, and before he
knew it she was tagging along, claiming a special interest in the Marcy
Phelps case, too.

He slowed the car and scanned the house numbers on Amalfi Drive in the
modest north Dallas neighborhood where the Phelpses lived.

"It's one more block," Caro said.

He floored it to the next block, found the house number, pulled up
crookedly with one tire on the curb and cut the engine.  But he didn't
get out right away.  He took a deep breath and consciously cleansed his
mind of everything except the case at hand.  The mystery surrounding
Marcy Phelps's disappearance and death was his priority now.

He got out of the car, quickly taking note of the yellow ranch house
with orange shutters, recently painted.  He couldn't say he agreed with
their sense of color, but the house was obviously well maintained.  The
winter-dead grass had been mown and edged in preparation for the colder
months, and the shrubs were healthy and nearly trimmed.

"The Phelpses are pretty comfortable, huh?"  he commented to Cato.

"They're not hurting."  She turned away from him and sneezed twice,
then fished around in her purse for a tissue.

"You ought to be home in bed with that cold, instead of running around
in this weather," he said.  Instead of bothering me.

"No time to be sick."

"But plenty of.  time to hang around where you're not needed."  The
ill-conceived words were out of his mouth before he could think better
of them.  He hadn't meant to let his irritation show so plainly.

Instead of jumping down his throat, as.  he expected, she merely looked
him up and down with appraising eyes.  "It's true what they say about
you."

He wished he had enough self-discipline not to rise to her bait, but be
flat out didn't.  "Oh?  What exactly do they say?"  he asked, trying to
sound utterly unconcerned.

"That you're a hot dog.  You dont want to share the work because you
dont want to share the credit when the case is solved.  That attitude
might have served you well in Auto Theft.  In fact, I understand you
built quite a reputation in your former position.  But things work a
little differently in CAPERS."

Austin was well aware of his image, and he liked it just fine.  He made
a mock bow in Caro's direction.  "Thanks for the advice, Corporal, but
I fail to see how you should be lecturing me about CAPERS when you
haven't worked there for four years.  Furthermore..."

He forgot whatever else he was about to say.  His first barb had found
its mark.  The blaze of self-righteousness went out of Car-o's eyes and
she looked down at her shoes.

"You're right, of course," she mumbled as she headed for the Phelpses'
front door.  "Come on, let's get this over with.  I'll try and stay out
of your way."

Austin wished he could take his words back.  He preferred a feisty Caro
to this more subdued one.  It was much harder to resent her presence
when she was acting humble.

Mr.  and Mrs.  phelps met Austin and Cato at the door before either of
them could even ring the bell.  "Come in, Corporal Lo-max, Corporal
Triece, you're right on time," Audrey Phelps said, as if they'd just
arrived for a weekly bridge game.  She smiled pleasantly, if a tad
vacantly.  Bob, her husband, also smiled, though not with his eyes.

They were still in denial, Austin thought.  As Cato had predicted, they
had been close to useless as witnesses when he had questioned them at
the station last Friday.  And now, with their home reeking from the
scent of funeral flowers, they still were trying to act as if their
family hadn't been irreparably ripped apart.

"May I take your jackets?"  Audrey asked.  "Would you care for some
coffee?  Tea?"

"No, thanks, we're fine," Austin answered for both of them.  "I'm sorry
to intrude at such a rough time, but I think we'll all sleep better at
night when-we find out what exactly happened to Marcy."

Audrey's smile faded, and a trace of determination flashed in her tired
eyes: "I agree," she said, "but I fail to see how questioning Mindy and
Debby will accomplish anything.  Corporal Triece, you already talked to
the girls at length.  They dont know anything.  How could they possibly
know anything?"  The question sounded slightly desperate.

"Anyone in the family might have seen something, heard something, that
he or she doesn't realize is significant," AUstin said, using his
standard spiel.  "And we have some new areas to focus on."  Like the
identity of the man Who fathered Marcy's child.  "If you'll get Debby
and Mindy, we'll finish up as quickly as possible and then get out of
your way."

The Phelpses acquiesced, but only reluctantly.

Sitting at the dining room table, with the parents hovering in the
kitchen barely out of earshot, Austin questioned Mindy first while Care
sat back and observed.  As Care had indicated, the girl, now a college
sophomore, had a superior, condescending attitude.  She shared Marcy's
fair coloring, but unlike Marcy, she was fashion-model thin and sported
a hair cat Austin found repulsive.  The top part was long and pulled
into a ponytail, but everything that grew below the tops of her ears
was buzzed so short her scalp showed through.

"I knew the police weren't doing enough," she said before Austin could
even fire off his first question.  She cast accusing eyes toward Care
as she mouthed off.  "All these months Marcy was wandering around,
pregnant and probably scared to death, and y'all were hardly looking
for her."  Mindy pulled a pack of ciga-iettes from the pocket of her
leather biker jacket and lit one, taking a long draw.

Trying to prove how adult she is, Austin mused.  She didn't come close
to convincing him.

He started to defend Caro's investigation, then stopped himself.  Care
had done everything that could be done, so far as he could tell.  It
didn't matter whether this little snipe believed that or not.

"We have more to go on now," he said.  "Our best lead will come if we
can find the father of Marcy's baby.  As her older sister, you were
probably closer to her than anyone.  Did she have any boYfriends?"

Mindy snorted.  "No.  She had a crush on that twerp who on "Beverly
Hills 90210."  That's as close as she got."

"It may have seemed that way, but obviously that's not the She got a
lot closer to some boy ... or some man.  What did she say about the
boys she knew in school?"

Mindy studied her purple-polished fingernails.  "She didn't talk about
any boy in particular."

"How about in gneral?"  Austin prompted.

When the girl didn't answer, Cam spoke up for the first time.  "Mindy,
you told me you knew your sister better than anyone."

"I did," Mindy said, sitting up straighter.  "If she'd had a boyfriend,
she would have told me."

"Even though you were away at school?"

"I told you, she called me all the time and wrote me letters."

"Letters."  That piqued Austin's attention.  "Did you keep any of
them?"

Mindy shrugged, but when she answered, her words were uneasy. 
"Corporal Triece asked me the same thing.  I didn't know where they
were at the time, but I've found some of them since."

And you didn't see fit to bring that to Corporal Triece's attention?
Austin bit the inside of his cheek to keep from snapping the comment at
Mindy.  By the look on her face, she knew she should have turned the
letters over to the police long ago.

Cato said nothing, but the penetrating stare she focused on Mindy was
enough to unnerve anyone.

"I can get the letters for you," Mindy offered, her arrogance
momentarily subdued.

"I'd appreciate that," Austin replied.  "It can wait till we're done
here.  Now, assuming Mindy didn't have a boyfriend, you do realize that
leaves a rather unpleasant alternative."

Mindy nodded, refusing to meet Austin's gaze.

"Please, Mindy, think hard.  Was there any male she came into regular
contact with--a neighbor, relative, teacher, church youth leader?
Whether you think it's possible she was raped or seduced by such a
person or not, that doesn't matter.  Understand, I'm not going to go
charging in making unfounded accusations.  But you might be able to
give me a place to start."

She was shaking her head even before he finished talking.  "No, there's
no one."

She was lying, Austin was sure of it.  And he was out of his depth.
He'd always considered himself a good interrogator, knowing just when
to put the pressure on.  But his suspects had usually been car thieves,
tough street kids with multipage rap sheets, or hardened criminals who
would just as soon knife you as answer questions.  Leaningon a teenage
girl, no matter how tough she pretended to be, was foreign to him.

He had a sudden and very alien desire for help.  He looked over at
Caro.  She'd worked in Sex Crimes for years.  From what he'd heard, she
knew how to handle suspects, victims and everyone in between with
however much sensitivity was needed.

As quickly as the thought materialized, he banished it.  Returning his
attention to Mindy, who was looking more uncomfortable by the minute,
he viewed this moment as just another career challenge.  He was good at
meeting challenges.  This was also an excellent opportunity to prove to
Caro Triece that he could handle whatever came along without her
help.

"You know," he said, trying to sound casual, "kids are molested a lot
more often than people generally think.  I mean, my own sister was.  By
a camp counselor."  Never mind that his only sibling was a brother.
"The saddest thing is, the kids are afraid to talk about it, and the
molester keeps getting away with it, hurting one child after
another."

"What are you getting at?"  Mindy asked suspiciously.

All right, so much for subtlety.  "Look, if this person who raped Marcy
is a family friend or relative, he could easily have... approached you
at some point."

Mindy bristled and her mouth moved into a snarl, reminding him of a dog
Austin had once seen facing a skunk.  "I have never been molested," she
said, hissing the words.  "If there is any family friend capable of
anything like that--and that's a big if--he's never approached me."

"And what about Debby?  She could be next."

Mindy shook her head vehemently.  "No way.  Debby's smarter than
that."

"And Marcy wasn't?"

"Stop putting words in my mouth, okay?  This theory of yours is way off
base.  There's no 'family friend' who would do what you're talking
about."

"Then who?  Who could have fathered your sister's child?"  There was a
pause.  "It had to be a stranger.  That's the only answer."  She
crossed her arms and stared at him, daring him to contradict her.

Mindy's parents must have picked up on the change of tone in their
daughter's voice, because Bob Phelps put his head through the dining
room door.  "Is everything okay in here?"

"It's fine, Daddy," Mindy mumbled.  She looked up at Austin,

her press ion almost pleading.  "I'll get those letters now, okay?"
Austin nodded.

Audrey and Bob Phelps were even more reticent about2 allowing the
detectives to question their baby.  At first they insisted on staying
in the room, until Austin assured them he was not in the habit of
browbeating ten-year-olds.

"I'm eleven," Debby objected.  With brown hair and hazel eyes, she
didn't resemble her older sisters at all.

"Are you?"  Cato said, smiling.  "That's right, you had a birthday
recently... Christmas Eve, right?"

"Yeah.  Don't worry that you missed it, everyone else did, too," she
said, issuing a fatalistic sigh.

"I'm afraid we did overlook it," Audrey'said apologetically..  "What
with everything that was going on... Don't apologize to us, Austin
wanted to say as he stared into Debby's sad eyes, seemingly wise beyond
her years.

The Phelpses were finally convinced to let the-detectives conduct their
questioning in peace, and Austin was actually grateful for Caro's
presence.  It wouldn't have been proper for him to question the child
alone.

He soon discovered that Debby was the brightest of the whole clan.
Although he suspected no one had spelled out the hard facts of the case
to her, she knew all about Marcy's pregnancy.  She seemed so well
versed that Austin wondered if she'd read the newspaper.

"I'm an aunt, you know," she said, fiddling with a lock of her hair.
"If they find the baby, will we get to keep it?"

"I dont know," Austin replied.  He sensed that Debby would be even more
sensitive than Mindy to any hedging he might attempt.

He went through the same series of questions he'd asked Mindy, and
Debby made a seemingly sincere effort to answer honestly.  If there was
any "favorite uncle" attached to the Phelps family, Debby could shed no
light on him.

"Please, think hard, Debby," Austin said.  "Has there been any other
man present in the house?  Even a repairman."  He was grasping at
straws.

"Well, there was Ray, but I dont think..."  Her voice trailed off.

"Ray who?"  Austin asked, trying not to sound too anxious.  This was a
new name.

"Seifert.  Mindy's boyfriend."  She made a face.

"You dont like him, I take it."

Debby shrugged.  "He's gross.  He called me 'kid' and 'shrimp' and
'sport," and he smoked."  She pantomimed gagging.

Debby went on to explain that Mindy had met Ray Seifert in college,
that he was "old"--twenty-two or -three--that he'd stayed at the Phelps
house for a couple of days over Christmas vacation and again at spring
break.

"Your parents didn't object to Ray?"  Austin asked.

"They liked him okay.  Of course, he was completely different around
them, real polite, 'yes, ma'am--yes, sir."  Made me want to puke."

"And how did Marcy feel about him?"

"She thought he was cool 'cause he rode a motorcycle.  And he showed
her a joint once.  You know, marijuana.  She went on about it for
days."

So, Marey'd had a crush on her older sister's boyfriend.  That was
something she probably wouldn't have confided in Mindy.  And Ray
S'ifert had ben hanging around during spring break.  Mid-March.  Right
about the time Marcy's baby had been conceived.

Austin exchanged a knowing glanc with Cato.  He was sure she was thin
Icing the same thing he was.  A slight tickling at the back of his neck
told him he was onto something.

"When Ray and Marcy were alone in the house?"  he askedd.  Debby darted
a nervous glance toward the door to the kitchen.  "Dbby, anything you
tell me will be kept in confidence.  We won't tell anyone unless and
until it becomes important to the investigation.  Nothing we can do at
this point will bring your sister back, but you might be leading us one
step closer toward finding Marcy's baby."

lbby took a deep breath.  "There was one time," she said slowly,
thinking it through.  "Daddy was at work, mom was shopping or
something, and Mindy left to go get a pizza and a movie at the video
place."

"And she left Ray here alone with Marcy?"

"I was here, too, but I was in my room.  I didn't like being around
Ray."

"So what happened?"

Ibby shrugged helplessly.  "I dont know.  I really dont know.

I can't remember."

"Did Marcy say anything about it, or act any differently afterward?"

"No, but she was sick the next day.  I remember that because we all
went to church, even Ray, except Marcy didn't because she said she
didn't feel good.  But I think she was fibbing."

"Why?"

'"Cause she was doing laundry!  She washed a bunch of sheets and towels
while we were at church.  No one does laundry when they're sick, do
they?"

Austin didn't comment.  He busied himself flipping his cassette tape
over to the other side, all the while watching Debby's face as she
mulled over her memories of those long-ago events and wondered at their
significance.  Suddenly she grew still, and her eyes widened to the
size of half-dollars.

"Corporal, when you have sex, does it mess up the sheets?"  Austin
nearly fell out of his chair.  He'd never had an eleven-year-old ask
him questions about sex before.  But what really astounded him was that
this little girl had put the clues together almost as quickly as he
had.

He sent a panicked look to Cato.  She responded with a nod of
understanding.  "Yes, it does make a mess sometimes," she replied to
Debby's question.  "Do you think that's what happened?  Do you think
Marcy and Ray Seifert had sex?"

God, Austin thought, if Debby's parents had' any idea of the
conversation going on in here, they would chase both detectives out
with a meat cleaver.

Debby shrugged.  "I dont know.  Nobody tells me anything."

"Are Ray and Mindy still dating?"  Austin asked, though he was still
recovering from the shock.

She shook her head.  "They broke up last summer."

Right about when Marcy disappeared.

Austin let Debby go after caution lug her not to talk about their
conversation to anyone else, not even her parents, but he didn't think
he had to worry about that.  Audrey and Bob Phelps didn't seem like the
type of parents who were easy to confide in.

"We'd like to speak to Mindy again, if we may," Austin said to Bob
Phelps after Audrey had hustled her youngest daughter away--to debrief
her, no doubt.

"I'm sorry, but she left," Bob replied, sounding not at all sorry.  "We
thought you were through with her."

Well, fine.  Mindy would just have to make a trip downtown.  Maybe in a
hot interrogation room, her memory about her former boyfriend would
improve.

"Oh, but she did leave you these."  Bob handed Austin a stack of
letters.  "You'll return them, won't you?"

"Yes, we'll return them."  But only if they didn't prove useful in
nailing Ray Selfeft for sexually assaulting Marcy Phelps.

As soon as he and Cato were safely in the car away from prying eyes,
Austin issued a gusty sigh.  "Okay, what are you waiting for?  Where's
the "I told you so'?"

"What do you mean?"  Cato asked innoeenfly.

"You know what I-mean.  I about lost it back there.  If you hadn't
stepped in, I dont know what I would have said to that little  girl."

"Oh, I expect you'd have come up with something.  In fact, I thought
you handled things rather well.  You managed to intimidate Mindy--no
easy task--and earn Debby's trust in record time.  You didn't need me
after all."

Surprised, Austin looked over at Cato, searching her face for some sign
of sarcasm.  But there was none.

"Thanks," he murmured.  Her praise meant more to him than it should
have.

Henry liked the new girl, he lecided, and that was something.  He
didn't often allow himself to like another person.  Experience had
taught him that emotional attachments only led to grief.  Hadn't his
own mother, whom he'd adored, dumped him on Aunt Odell's doorstep when
he was only seven?

He'd always been a troublesome child.  He'd been told that often
enough.  But that final incident, the one that had so upset his mother,
hadn't been his fault.  He hadn't meant to burn up that cat.  It had
been an accident.  He'd only been trying to scare Whiskers.  But his
mother, tight-lipped and almost fearful, as he recalled, hadn't wanted
to listen to any explanations.  She'd simply packed up his clothes and
carted him off to his aunt's, and he'd seen her only a handful of times
since then.

He hadn't seen much of his father, either, but he didn't care so much
about that.

He'd fared no better in school than at home.  He'd tried to make
friends, like Aunt Odell had told him to do, but none of the other kids
wanted to sit with the 'retard  Even when he tried to explain that he
wasn't retarded, he just had "adjustment diffienl-ties"--a wonderfully
adult-sounding phrase he'd picked up from the school counselor--it
hadn't mattered.  No one wanted to be friends.

There'd been a girl, once.  Jenny was a fat girl--really fat--so in a
way she'd been as unpopular as Henry.  But she was smart, something he
admired because he was smart, too, although some times he had a hard
time proving it.  He'd liked Jenny, a little especially after she
started sharing her' cookies with him at lunch.  Henry loved cookies.

But eveErthing had changed the day he'd tried to kiss Jenny behind the
gym and touch her breasts.  He thought that's what boys did when they
liked girls.  But Jenny had slapped him', hard, screaming something
about how all boys wanted was sex.  He'd tried to explain that he'd
only been trying to do something she would like, something that was
expected of him, but she hadn't listened.  No one ever listened.

Jenny hadn't shared her cookies with him after that.

For years, now, the only person Henry had loved was his Aunt Odell. Not
that Odell loved him hack.  She wasn't his mother, after all.  But
she'd always been there for him, praising him when he did something
right, patient when he made mistakes.  He lived for her praise.  He
knew that someday he would do something so right, so splendidly
perfect, that Odell would finally love him.

So it really was strange that Henry found himself liking the new girl,
when he knew she was a sinner.  Aunt Odell would never approve.  But
Amanda was different from the rest.  Her hair was the prettiest reddish
color he'd ever seen, and soft like bunny fur.  And her eyes looked
like little bits of sky were trapped in there.  But it went beyond her
looks.

Sometimes she smiled at him.  The other girls looked at him with
contempt, as if he were dirt on their shoes.  But not Amanda.  She
smiled, friendly-like.  He was sure that, if she was allowed to talk to
him, she would tell him she liked him, too.  And maybe someday she
would even let him kiss her and touch her breasts, and more.  He'd
never forgotten the mistake he made with Jenny, and he wasn't sure
whether kissing and touching were sins, anyway.

The last day or two, he'd found himself doing things that he knew would
make Odell angry if she knew.  He'd stolen one of her pretty-smelling
bars of soap and smuggled it to Amanda.  And he'd cut Amanda an
extra-big slice of the cheesecake they'd had for dinner that night.
Somehow, earning Amanda's smile had become the most crucial thing in
his life--even more crucial than Odell's mission.

The mission was supposed to be the holiest, most important thing in the
world.  And for all these long months, it had been.  But suddenly,
saving the lives of babies--and even punishing their evil mothers, the
part Odell didn't know about--didn't seem as gratifying as it once had
been.  For the first time in his adult life, Henry contemplated a life
away from Odell, a life where he could pursue other interests besides
saving babies.  A life with a girl who could love him.

A life with Amanda.

A little warning voice inside his head came to life.  Don't set
yourself up for a fall, it said.  Don't expect too much of people and
you von't be disappointed.  All right, so mayb !  was expexting too
much.  Putting the cart before the horse, as Aunt Odell was fond of
saying.  But Amanda's smile had to mean something.  l-for long, he
would find out what.

Chapter 6

Chloe Krell sat on the leather sofa in her living room, her feel curled
underneath her, waiting for Don to get home.  They hadn't enjoyed much
time alone since Justin's arrival.  But this evening, Justin was
staying at his grandmother's house four blocks away.  Tonight, she and
Don would talk.

Odd little thoughts kept popping up in Chloe's mind, events and
circumstances she hadn't thought much about during the exciting months
of preparation for Justin's arrival--or perhaps she had deliberately
ignored them.  But now she found that her memory was suddenly,
frighteningly accurate, not to mention persistent.

Travis Beaman was a tax attorney.  He did not normally practice family
law.  Why did he not refer the Krills to another attorney, someone more
familiar with cases of this type, to handle the specifics of Justin's
adoption?

Even more puzzling, Travis had asked them not to mention the purpose of
their visits to any of the secretaries or clerks, except for his own
secretary.  "Adoption is such a private issue, and I think it's better
that as few people as possible are involved," Travis had said, and the
ICrills had agreed.  It had sounded sensible at the time.

But Travis employed some of the best clerical help in the business, and
paid them we!!.  Now Chloe wondered ... couldn't his staff be trusted
to keep matters confidential?

A peculiar instance at a Fourth of July picnic given by the Krills came
to mind.  Travis and Don had been off in a corner of the backyard,
speaking about something in hushed voices.  When Chloe approached, they
had suddenly stopped talking, and her husband had looked at her with
something akin to alarm and, well, guilt.  Smiling, she had asked them
what they were whispering about.  She'd been ready to tease them about
talking business at a party.  But Don had scowled and told her it was
nothing she needed to concern herself with.

Don had never kept secrets from her before--none that she'd found out
about, anyway.  But something about the way he'd looked at her had
warned her off.  She hadn't pressed.  She had deliberately pushed the
incident from her mind.

The two men, who had been friends since high school, had excluded her
from talks about the adoption having to do with money, and that had
been all right with her.  She didn't really want to know.  If she'd
thought about the money aspect for too long, it would have seemed to
her that they were buying a baby.

She wouldn't he thinking about it now if it weren't for Marcy Phelps.
Chloe had followed the stories in the paper, greedily reading the
columns of newsprint, shorter each day, devoted to the girl's
mysterious disappearance and death.  She couldn't stop imagining the if
teen-year-old's naked, ravaged body, floating in the freezing water.

Had Marcy held her baby before she died?  Had anyone tried to save her
life, or had she sun ply been, allowed to bleed to death?

Chloe heard Don'.s key in the door.  Her heart seemed to expand inside
her chest, followed by a shortness of breath.  This was her husband,
for God's sake.  They'd been married twelve years.  Why did she feel so
afraid?

He came in the front door.  She heard the familiar sounds of his
setting down his briefcase, opening the closet, hanging up his coat.
Then he walked into the living room.  He was not a large man, nora
classically handsome one, especially now that his hair was thinning.
But Chloe had loved him almost from the day she'd met him at her
church.  Her family had thought she was marrying below her station, but
she'd known he would make good with his printing business.  And he had.
He'd bought her this beautiful house.  They had nice cars, clothes,
vacations.

And a fifty-thousand-dollar baby.

He started to pass through the darkened room when he saw her sitting on
the couch with just the one lamp on, and he froze.  "Honey?  What's
going on?  Where's the baby?"

"He's at my mother's.  I thought we needed some time alone.  We need to
talk."

A slow smile spread across Don's face and his stance relaxed.  "Just
you and me?  Alone?;' He crossed the room and sat down next to her,
touching her hair with one finger.  "You look awfully serious."

"This is serious.  It's about Justin's adoption.."

Immediately he stiffened.  "For chrissakes, Chloe, are you going to
start that again?"

"Yes, and I'm not going to let it go until I get some answers.  You
keep brushing it off, like it's not important."

"It's not important.  We have Justin.  He's our child now, and that's
all that matters."

"I dont agree.  I want to know about his biological mother."  "She's
entitled to her privacy."

"But you know who she is, dont you?"

Don looked away.  "I..."

"Please, Don, dont lie to me.  In all the years we've ben married,
we've always been honest with each other.  It's the whole basis of our
marriage.  So tell me the truth."

She could see the inner struggle reflected in Don's face.  Please,
please, dont lie, she prayed.

"I know her name," he finally admitted with a sigh.  "Travis slipped.
He shouldn't have, but he did.  Chloe, dont stir things up for her.
She's starting her life over."  "Is she?"  Chloe asked sharply.  "What
do you mean?"

"I mean, judging from the medical fees we paid, the girl had some
problems.  Did she survive childbirth?"

"I dont know the details of--"

"Yes, you do.  Damn it, Don!  You do know.  You've known Travis longer
than you've known me.  He told you, didn't he?He told you that us ting
mother is--was--Marcy Phelps."

Don grew very still, and a strange light came into his eyes, the glazed
look she had seen in the eyes of an animal frozen by headlights.  As
quickly as it had come, the light was replaced with anger. 
Unreasonable anger.

He grasped Chloe's arms in a painfully tight grip, and his voice was
almost a growl.  "Now you listen to me.  I will not sit here and let
you interrogate me like some criminal.  You will drop this subject. 
And you won't mention your paranoid suspicions to anyone else."

"Let go, you're hurting--"

He gave her a little shake.  "Do you understand?"

"Completely."  Dear God, she'd been right.  Her suspicions had been a
shot in the dark.  She hadn't really believed that Marcy

Phelps was Justin's mother.  All she'd wanted was for Don to deny it,
to reassure her that the adoption had been legal and fair.  He
hadn't.

Now she would have to take matters into her own hands.

He released her, and his face relaxed into a more normal expression.
"Would you like to go out to dinner?"

So, just like that, the subje was closed.  How could he calmly sit
there and talk about eating?  "No.  I think I'll go over to Mother and
see how she's getting along with the baby."

"What happened to our evening alone?"

"I'm not in the mood."  The words were full of barely suppressed fury.
She couldn't an ember ever speaking to Don like that before.

He watched her with a troubled expression as she rose and crossed to
the closct in the foyer to get her coat.

During the short drive to her mother's house, Chloe reiz that any
action she took might lead to her losing Justin.  That was a
possibility almost too horrible to contcnplate.  But she couldn't rest
easy--wouldn't be able to look herself in the mirror--until she knew
whether she had adopted Justin at the expense of a young girl's life.

Amanda had to admit one thing--Odell took care of her girls the best
way.  she knew how.  After those rocky first few days she had fed
Amanda well, made sure she got plenty of exercise, saw to her
"spiritual" needs by teaching lessons from the Bible and allowed her
eight to ten hours of sleep each night.  The only work Odell re-quinxl
of the girls was housekeeping, mending and some light yard work--raking
and so on.  They were given clothing when they needed it, and daily
showers were required.

If not for the fact that they were prisoners, it really wasn't a bad
life.  And that's what Odell was counting on, Amanda was sure.  Because
the Good Shepherd Home was relatively comfortable, the girls became
complacent, bid' rag their time until they had their babies and would
be released.  Supposedly.

But Terri had other suspicions as to what fate actually awaited the
girls.  As soon as Amanda had slipped Terri the copy of Morse code
written on wrapping paper, they had begun communicating in
earnest--although Tern's spelling was appalling--staying up half the
night tap-tapping on the pipes.  Amanda had !eiarned that four girls
had already had their babies and left the home.  But if they'd been
released, why hadn't they brought the cops here?  That

was the first thing Amanda would do when she gained her freedom.

She had to agree with Terri.  If those four girls were alive, Odell
would have been caught by now.  Which of course meant that she and/or
Terri had to escape, no matter how acceptable conditions at the Home
seemed to be.

So long as it wasn't raining, the girls spent at least an hour each day
exercising outdoors.  Usually they just walked briskly around the
large, fenced yard behind the house, but on thig mild and sunny day,
Odell had organized a badminton game.  This worked out well for Amanda
and Terri, because they Were able to exchange a few whispered words
during the excitement and confusion.

"I think I've figured out the weak link in the chain," Terri whispered
as their team rotated positions.

The two girls had already suggested and discarded various plans for
escape that ranged from wresting Odell's shotgun away from her to
poisoning and electrocution.  But Odell's security was too tight, her
precautions excessive.  Amanda wouldn't have been surprised to learn
that Odell was a former prison warden.

Amanda gave Terri a questioning look, waiting for her to dab-orate on
her new idea.

Terri surreptitiously nodded toward her left and behind her.  Confused,
Amanda's gaze followed in that direction until it rested on..  Henry.
He stood to the side, watching the game, scratching Phoebe the
bloodhound on her wrinkled neck.  Although he appeared relaxed, his gun
was within reaching distance.

Henry, a weak link?  Amanda didn't think so.  He was strong as an ox
and blindly loyal to his aunt.  In Amanda's estimation, they had even
less chance of overpowering Henry than they did Odell.

It was Amanda's turn to serve, and the team rotated once again.  Terri
tossed the shuttlecock to Amanda.  "He's sweet on you," she whispered.
"Think about it."

She did think about it, the rest of the afternoon and into the evening,
and she decided that Terri might be onto something.  Although he wasn't
obvious about it, Henry did seem to show Amanda a little favoritism.
He'd brought her extra soap and lotion, served her generous portions of
food and definitely had smiled at her a couple of times.

They couldn't overpower Henry, but if he really did have a crush on her
or something like that, perhaps she could use that to her advantage.
Bringing her soap was a long way from helping her to escape, but she
could subtly encourage him and see where it led.  He was a grown man,
and he hardly ever left the home, so he probably didn't have a woman.
He might be really desperate for some female affection.

Yes, this plan, distasteful as it was, had possibilities.  After all,
wasn't the sexual urge the strongest of mankind's biological needs?
Perhaps Henry's need for intimacy with a woman would be stronger than
his desire to please Odell.

The plan wouldn't be without its dangers.  Henry had keys to every
lock, which meant he could enter her room at will.  He could rape her
if he wanted to.  But she was counting on the fact that Odell was a
pious woman and wouldn't condone sexual misconduct under her roof.

As soon as the girls were locked into their rooms for the evening and
all was quiet, Amanda removed the metal shade from her lamp and peeled
the insulation off the pipes in the corner of the room.  It was going
to be a long night.

Caro had barely been at her desk five minutes on Wednesday morning,
contemplating the impossible list of things she had to do for her own
cases as well as Lomax's, when a shadow fell over her.  She looked up
to see Russ Arkin standing there.  If anything, he looked worse than he
had on Christmas--more like a vagrant than a prosperous businessman.

She felt terrible for the insensitive way she'd treated him the first
time he'd come in.  If any man needed a little compassion and
understanding, it was Russ.

She managed a smile.  "Russ.  What can I do for you?"

He dropped a small plastic bag on her desk.  "I received this in the
morning's mail.  It's a letter from Amanda.  I probably shouldn't have
opened it.  lshould have brought it directly to the police.  But I
just... had to .... "

"I understand, Russ.  A letter, huh?  Written in her handwriting?"

He nodded.

"That's great!  That means Amanda is alive."  Or at least she was at
some recent point.

"I only handled it by the edges, in case you could get finger prints
off it or something," Russ said.

Cato nodded.  "That's good, you did right.  You know I'm no longer the
lead detective in Amanda's ease."

"I know.  I talked to that Lomax guy.  But I trust you.  And you're
still helping with the investigation, right?"

"Yes, I... you trust me?  But I was wrong.  I thought' Amanda had left
of her own accord, and I was wrong."

"It was a fair assumption to make, based on your experience, I
imagine.  And I was being pretty obstinate.  Anyway, you've worked hard
on the case and you've been thorough.  If they took it away from you,
it wasn't because I complained."

"Is that what Lomax told you?  That they took the case away from me
because I wash t doing a good job?"  That son of a Ntch.

"No, no, not in those words," Russ said hastily.  "He just explained
that since the case was no longer a simple Missing Persons complaint it
had been handed over to Crimes Against Persons.  That they were better
equipped, you know."

Yeah, like they have bigger brains in CAPERS?  Cato stifled the
illogical negative thought.  "About the letter."  She opened the
plastic bag and peered inside.  It contained two loose-leaf pages,
folded in half, and the envelope they'd come in.  The envelope was
postmarked just the day before, December 26, from Kips Point, Texas.
"Does Kips Point mean anything to you?  Do you know anyone there?"

"No.  I never heard of it before today.  But I checked a map.  It's
only about fifteen miles from Taryton."

Good, that would save her the trouble of looking it up.  "You read the
letter, of course.  What does it say?"  Caro's hands trembled as she
gingerly pulled the pages from the bag by the edges so as not to
disturb any latent prints that might still be identifiable.

"You're going to read it, anyway," Russ said as he pulled over a chair
and sat down.  "See'for your selL

Cato scanned the two pages, penned in a neat and very distinctive
style.  In it, Amanda said she had left home because she needed to do
some thinking, and she had abandoned her car because the license tags
were about to expire and she didn't want to be pulled over, and she
didn't have money for gas, anyway.  She told her father where to find
the car, instructing him to pick it up and keep it safe for her.  She
said she was staying with a friend, that she was safe and warm and well
fed, and she would contact her father when she was ready..

Caro read the few paragraphs again.  On the surface, it seemed to
explain away the circa instances of Amanda's disappearance.  But the
explanation about the car was pretty farfetched.

"Do you believe this is on the level?"  Caro asked.  "Is this something
Amanda would do?"

"Absolutely not.  She would never abandon her car.  I mean, if she's
staying with a friend, why didn't she just park it in her friend's
driveway?"

"Because she knew the police would be looking for the car, and she
didn't want them to find her?"  Cato theorized, although the scenario
seemed unlikely.

"She wouldn't need to go to such lengths.  If she wants to stay with a
friend, she can stay with a friend.  I wouldn't object.  But forget
about motives and such, and look at the letter again.  Don't you notice
something peculiar about it?"

Cato did as Russ had asked.  '"I dont know what you mean."  "Okay,
well, I'm no detective, but remember' me telling you that Amanda was a
state spelling bee champion?  Look at the spelling in that letter! "All
right," a-l-r-i-g-h-t.  "Decision," d-i-c-i-s-i-o-n.

"Grateful," g-r--a-t--"

"Yes, yes, I see!"

"I think Amanda wrote that letter under duress, and she was trying to
signal me with those spelling errors."

"You're absolutely righL I'm ashamed I didn't catch it right away.  You
have a very clever daughter, Russ.  I'll take this down and show it to
Lomax, and then we'll take it over to Physical Evi-clence for tests.
You'll have to come with me.  They'll want to get a set of prints from
you, to eliminate any of yours that might have gotten on the
letter--even though I know you were careful."  "Sure, no problem."

"This is great," she said as she placed the letter and envelope in
clear plastic document protectors.  Unable to contain her enthusiasm,
she said again, "This is absolutely great!"

"Do you have to, act so damn happy about this?"  Russ asked, looking
rather disgusted.  "My daughter has been kidnapped and is being held
captive somewhere, suffering God knows what."

"But she's alive.  Frankly, Russ, up until you showed me this, the
chances of her being found alive were dropping with every day that
passed."

"Oh."

"But now we have another piece of physical evidence.  If we can't find
fingerprints, the PES folks might be able to trace the paper, though
it's a long shot.  And we still might be able to track down the guy who
abandoned Amanda's car.  I'll keep you informed, I promise."  She
touched his arm, wanting to reassure him.  "We'll find her.  I swear to
God, if she can be found, we'll do it."  She stood decisively.  "Come
on, let's go.  It's only a short drive toPES And when we're done, I
want you to go home and eat or sleep or something.  Maybe shave, change
your clothes?  You look awful."

Lomax wasn't at his desk, so Care took the letter and Russ to Physical
Evidence.  That chore taken care of, she dropp Russ off at his car,
then parked her five-year-old Caprice in the lot by the municipal
building.  She rioriehl Austin's black Bronco, parked crookedly in a
space that wasn't a real space.  Didn't that guy ever park legally?

At least he was at the station somewhere.  She couldn't wait to show
him the photocopy of Amanda's letter.  He would love it.  He seemed to
delight .in finding little bits of evidence and offbeat clues that
would shed light on an investigation--like those letters Marcy Phelps
had written to her older sister.  Caro had started reading them aloud
in the car on the way back to the station, and Austin had nearly crowed
every time Ray Seifert's name came up.  The girl had obviously been
smitten with Mindy's boyfriend, and he had become a main candidate for
the father of Marcy's baby--and possibly her kidnapper as well.

Problem was, he couldn't he located.

Caro found Austin at his desk, having obviously just returned from
somewhere.  He still wore his brown leather bomber jacket over faded
jeans that flouted the department's dress code.  His aviatOr-style
sunglasses were shoved on top of his head, his hair was tousled, and
his face was slightly wind burned

He must think he looks pretty sharp driving around like that in his
cool, shiny Bronco, she thought, not sure whether she wanted to smile
or frown.  Nah, on second thought, he didn't just think he looked good.
He probably had a line of cars with women drivers trailing behind him
everywhere he went.  He would look even better on the weekends, driving
his own car, the silver Jaguar she'd seen in the picture.

She was supremely annoyed to discover she found Austin Lomax
attractive.  Of course, any human with two X chromosomes would find him
attractive.  Unfortunately, he knew it.

"Hey, Cato, what's up?"  he said as he dumped an armload of file
folders and a large white bakery bag onto his desk.

Caro looked at her watch.  "Sleep in this morning?"

"As a matter of fact, I was up in Denton," he said cheerfully, ignoring
her attempted dig.  He was almost as good at that as Tony.  "Ray
Seifert was seen at his old address less than a week ago.  The Denton
police have agreed to stake the place out.  Oh, and get this.  He has
another sexual-assault charge pending against him.
Six-teen-year-old."

"Hot damn.  He's our man," Cato said, forgetting her earlier
peevishness.  She watched as Austin removed a huge cinnamon roll from
the bag and took a bite out of it.  "Do you have any idea how much
butter is in one of those things?"  she asked.  "Your arteries aren't
just going to harden, they're going to petrify."

"Yeah, yeah, I know.  I brought an extra one for you."

"You did?  Oh, good, hand it over."  She was hungry, she realized.

"Any particular reason you're lurking around my desk this morning?"

"Mmm, yeah.  Geez, this smells wonderful."  She chewed and swallowed
her first bite of cinnamon roll before continuing.  "Russ Arkin
received a letter from his daughter this morning."

Austin's eyebrows flew up.  "No kidding?  And you had to wait until my
hands were good and sticky before you told me.  Where is it?  What's it
say?"

Cato repeated the text of the letter from memory as best she could,
then explained about the spelling errors and Russ's feelings about the
matter.

Austin was duly impressed.  "You already took it over toPES

"I didn't want to waste any time.  I should have brought you a copy."

"That's okay, I trust you; I'll see a copy of it later."

That was the second time that morning someone had told Caro they
trusted her.  Illogically, it made her feel warm inside.  Or maybe that
was just the cinnamon roll.

She wiped her hands on a paper napkin.  "Well, I guess I better get
back to--" She halted as Austin's phone buzzed.

He picked up the receiver.  "Corporal Lomax."

She started to walk away.  She had a million things to do, and
apparently so did he.  But he snapped his fingers at her, and when she
turned he gestured impatiently for her to come back.  His expression
was intense as he listened to his caller.

"Who is this?"  he said, motioning Cato closer still.  He angled the
receiver away from his ear, silently inviting her to listen in.

Since he was perched on the edge of his desk, she had to lean in to
bring her ear close to the receiver.  She placed her hand on his
shoulder to steady herself.  And through the receiver she heard a
woman's voice, muffled.

"You'll have to speak up.  I can't hear you," Austin said.  Cato could
feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek.

"I can't tell you who I am," the woman said in a terrified voice. 
There were sounds of heavy traffic in the background.  "I just wanted
you to know that Marcy Phelps's baby is fine.  He was adopted by a good
family--"

"By you?"  Austin demanded.

"Y-yes.  But there was something 'illegal or wrong about the adoption."
,

"I think that's fairly obvious, given the circumStances surrounding
Marcy's death."

Cato punched him on the arm.  Now wasn't the time to play tough cop!
The woman was frightened, ready to hang up at a moment's notice.  In
fact, she reminded Cato of some of the rape vio-tires who would call
the police, unsure of wbetber they should even report the offense.

"Look, this is all very interesting," Austin continued, oblivious to
Caro's nonverbal m'itiism.  "But if you're tqing to help n find the
person responsible, I'll need more information."

"Couldn't you just... you know, cheek up on people who do that kind of
thing?"

"You mean, illegal adoptions?  We dont exactly have a list of that type
of offender.  I'll need more information.  A lawyer's nine,

something."  "I can't."  "Why not?"

"Because you'll take him.  You'll take my baby away from me."  "Now,
ma'am, no one's going to--" The line went dead.

Cato realized then that she was plastered to Austin's body, clinging to
his shoulder like a tenacious frond of ivy.  The phone conversation had
been stimulating for more reasons than one.  She disentangled herself
and took a couple of steps backward, trying her best to look
disapproving.

"I suppose you could have handled that better?"  Austin asked, lifting
one eyebrow skeptically.

She shrugged.  "Oh, probably not."

"You think it was on the level?"  he asked, more seriously this time.

"Yeah, I do."

Suddenly he was all business.  "Okay, our mystery lady told us more
than she thinks she did.  Given the sounds of traffic and sirens in the
background, she was call ling from a big city.  We can hope that means
the call was local.  If the adoption took place in Dallas, there must
be a record of it.  Don't they file new birth certificates when a baby
is adopted?"

"I think so," Cato said.  "What about the court records for the
adoption itself?  I know the original birth certificate and the
information about the birth parents would be sealed, but maybe not the
adoptive parents."

"Great.  Why dont you go to Vital Statistics and the courthouse, and
wherever else you can think of.  Start with December 13--that's the
earliest Marcy could have died, according to the ME, and move forward.
Male white babies."

"Okay, I'll..."  She put her hands on her hips and cocked her head to
one side.  "Did I just hear you order me to go pawing through birth
certificates and court documents?"

"Uh-huh.  You wanted to help, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember.  Just so you remember.  Scott Humphrey is supposed
to be back from his vacation today.  I'd planned on bringing him in.
for questioning."

"You want to take his statement?"

She did and she didn't.  It had been a long time since she'd grilled a
suspect.  Questioning witnesses, that was one thing, but if Scott was
responsible for Amanda's disappearance... "You're the lead detect iv
now.  You do it."

"Okay."

She started to walk away, then Paused.  "Say, Lomax, a silly thought
just occurred to me.  If someone had Marcy stashed away some place, and
then virtually sold the baby in a highly question able private
adoption..."

"Yeah?"

"Do you think that Same person might have... Nah, it's too
ridiculous."

"Go abe ad please.  What are you thinking?"

"Well, do you think that same person could have Amanda stashed away,
intending to sell her baby?"  Caro's gaze caught and held with Austin's
as he considered her theory.

After a moment he broke eye contact and walked over to the wall, where
a large laminated map of Texas was hung.  "Okay, here's Taryton, here's
Kips Point, and over here is the dam where Marcy's body was found.
They're about a hundred-and-fifty, two hundred miles apart."

"But both areas are east of Dallas--cast, southeast, what-ever--and
both girls are from Dallas and ended up in the boonies .... "Caro's
voice trailed off.  Okay, she was stretching it.

To her surprise, Austin took her seriously.  "Can you think of any
other similarities between the two cases?  Aside from the fact that
both girls were pregnant?"

"Well, they both disappeared without a trace.  But Marcy was out riding
her bike.  The bike was never recovered: And Amanda, of course, was in
a car, and the car was found.  The two girls were in totally different
parts Of Dallas.  And there was never a letter from Marcy or anything
like that.  So, no, I'll have to say the cases are more dissimilar than
similar."

Their gazes locked again, and then she slowly shook her head.  "Nab,"
they said together.

"See, I told you it was silly," she said before grabbing the rest of
her cinnamon roll and walking off.

Chapter 7

Caro dialed the Humphreys' number from memory.  They were supposed to
have returned from their skiing vacation the day before, but she'd
gotten no answers to the intermittent phone calls she'd made
yesterday.

As she listened to the phone ringing on the other end, she mechanically
popped we cold capsules and searched the top of her desk for her
teacup.  Failing to find it, she swallowed the pills dry.  Her head
cold was lingering, probably because she hadn't gotten a decent night's
sleep in over a week.

Thoughts of Amanda and Marcy kept her awake or invaded her restless
dreams.  Sometimes it was Russ Arkin's pain-filled eyes or Audrey
Phelps's vacant smile that haunted her.  Last night, for some reason,
she'd dreamed about Austin.  She didn't remember the specifics of the
dream, only that he had Posed some kind of life.  or-death threat to
her.

So now she had another reason to dislike him.  He was giving her
nightmares.

Caro's box of Kleenex wasn't where it was supposed to be.  She finally
spotted it two desks away from hers.  She was just about to hang up the
phone in defeat and lunge for the tissue when someone answered.

The sleep-scratchy voice sounded as if it belonged to Dr.  Humphrey.

She sniffled.  "Is Scott there?"

"May I ask who's emlling?"

"Yes, this is, um, Brandy, a friend of his from school."  "Scott's
here, "but he's asleep.  Can I have him call you?"  "Yes, he has my
number."  Cato hung up quickly.  So, the kid was finally home.  She
relished the idea of pouncing on Scott while he was drowsy and
unsuspecting, so she could gauge his reaction.

And the parents' reaction.  Would they be genuinely surprised to hear
of Amanda's disappearance and their son's possible involvement?  Or did
they already know?  Did they have his alibis all worked out?

She supposed she ought to check with Austin to see how he wanted things
handled.  That was annoying, and it shouldn't have been.  He was the
lead detective on the Arkin ease, and he was doing a perfectly
competent job.  The fact that she was merely assisting shouldn't bother
her, either.  During her years in CAPERS she had often played a
supporting role in her colleagues' eases.  But for some reason Cato was
itching to grab the bit in her teeth on this one and run with it.

Was Tony right?  she wondered.  Was she bored with Missing Persons and
subconsciously yearning to be back in CAPERS?

The idea held a certain appeal--until she really thought hard about it.
Working on felony eases like homicides and rapes, she would again be
actively involved in interrogations, testifying in court.  Sometimes
she would make mistakes, and guilty men would go free.  That was an
unpleasant fact of police life, something she could live with.  But
what about the innocent ones who got caught up in the justice system
and were hurt by it?  That was the part she had trouble with.  She
couldn't stand the idea that her zeal for police work could hurt
people... even kill them."

That's why she'd refused when Austin had asked if she wanted to
interrogate Scott.  She strongly suspected the kid was somehow involved
in Amanda's disappearance, but she wasn't up to the task of extracting
that information from him.  She'd had a hard-enough time with those two
joyriders in Taryton, who should have been a piece of cake.

She ought to be relieved that Austin Lomax was in charge.  By merely
assisting, she could exercise her rusty investigative skills without
making those tough judgment calls.

Her phone buzzed.  Before she answered it, she scooted over to retrieve
her box of tissue.

"Corporal Triece."

"Caro, it's Austin.  Whatcha got for me?"

Ah, she'd almost forgotten that she'd left a note on his desk earlier
that morning.  Pride washed through her as she recalled her previous
day's success.  "I think I have the identity of Marcy Phelps's baby."

"You're kidding."

"What, you didn't think I could do it?"

"Well, it seemed like a long shot, with as little as we had to go
on."

"It really wasn't that hard."  Just sweet-talking a judge into issuing
an investigative subpoena, then hours and hours of tedious research,
going over fill ions of court cases and birth certificates, tracking
down attorneys, narrowing down the field of candidates, until only one
was left.

"So, who is it?"  Austin asked impatiently.

"I'll come downstairs," she replied before hang' rag up.  She knew
Austin hated to be kept in suspense.  By the time she reached his desk,
he would be frothing at the mouth, making her moment of revelation all
the more enjoyable.  If she was right, they were on their way to
finding the person who'd last seen Marcy alive.

She met Tony coming into Missing Persons as she was on her way out.
"Hey, Tony, you still want to come with me to pick up Scott
Humphrey?"

"Scott... oh, the Arkin girl's boyfriend."  Tony smiled wickedly.
"Sure, I'll tag along and scowl, if you think it'll help.  You believe
he did it?"

Caro shrugged.  "Dunno.  He loosely matches the description of the man
who tried to sink Amanda's car in the river."

"And you're hoping."

She sighed.  "It sure would be nice to find her.  Alive."

"Do you think there's much chance of that?"

"Since her father got that letter, yeah.  I mean, why would the perp go
to all the trouble of having her write a letter if he was just going to
kill her?  He wants us to stop looking for her."

Tony cocked his head and blew a huge, purple bubble.  "We might have
stopped looking, if not for finding her car.  But have you considered
that the perp might be using the letter to mislead us as to the time of
death?"

The possibility hit Caro like a bucket of cold water.  "You mean, he
coerced Amanda into writing a postdated letter, killed her, then mailed
the letter days later?"  Unfortunately, Tony's idea made sense.  "But
if that's the case, we're not dealing with any ordinary crime of
opportunity or passion here.  We're talking about a cold and
calculating murderer who meticulously plans his every move."

"A guy without a conscience," Tony said morosely.  "Makes me think of
Ted Bundy, or someone like that."

Psychopath.  That word, a barely whispered echo in Caro's mind, gave
her a chill.  "I think we're getting ahead of ourselves," she said with
deliberate casualness.  "Let's just see what our Scotty has to say. Can
you leave in a few minutes, as soon as I give this stuff to Lomax?"

"Sure, whenever."

Carols optimistic mood was completely shot.  Why hadn't she considered
the time-of-death angle?  Was it because she wanted so badly to find
Amanda alive?  She was doing it again, becoming too passionate about a
case.  And she knew better!  Letting herself get too close,
emotionally, to an investigation would only impair her judgment.

She ought to wash her hands of it--both the Arkin and the Phelps cases,
in fact, before she got herself in too deep and messed something up.
Yes, that's what she would do.  She would hand over the paperwork on
Marcy Phelps's baby, pick up Scott Humphrey as she'd promised, then
return to her comfortable world of runaway teenagers and deserting
spouses.  She couldn't deal with psychopaths or crazies of any variety,
not anymore.

Once upon a time she'd relished the prospect of tearing into a rapist
or child molester, ripping his story apart in the interview room until
he was sobbing, begging her to leave him alone.  No more.  She'd lost
that hard edge.  And she'd decided long ago she didn't want it back.

"So, who and where is Marcy's baby?"  were the first words out of
Austin's mouth the moment he spotted Cato striding purposefully toward
his desk.  Today she was wearing baggy black trousers tucked into red
cowboy boots, and a plaid flannel shirt big enough to cover three
women.  Rather than disguising her diminutive size, as she probably
intended, the getup emphasized her fragility.

Cato laid a stack of photocopies on his desk.  "He's in Highland
Park."

Austin gave the photocopies hardly a glance.  "How do you know?"

"I'm not a hundred-percent sure."  She looked at Austin's steaming cup
of coffee.  "Let's go to the break room.  I need some

Austin nodded, gritting his teeth.  The more anxious he appeared to
hear Caro's story, the longer she would drag it out.  She seemed to
enjoy torturing him.

"I went through all the district court records for adoptions that took
place after December 13," she explained as they walked down the hall
and into a small kitchen that held a row of vending machines, a
microwave, and a few tables and chairs.  The room always smelled
vaguely of popcorn.

She poked around in the sink until she found the mug of her choice,
with a black-and-white cat on it, continuing her story while she washed
the cup, filled it with water and stuck it in the microwave.  "Given
the ME's report, December 13 would have been the earliest possible date
of birth."

Austin resisted the urge to remind Cato that he already knew that.  In
fact, he was the' 'one who'd told her to use December 13 as the cutoff
date.  But if he started arguing with her, she would never finish her
story.

"I threw out all the girls," she said, "then all the boys born before
December 13, then all the nonwhites--that's another assumption, by the
way.  Who's to say the father of Marcy's baby wasn't black or Hispanic
or green or purple with spots?"

"But he was probably white," Austin said.  "Marcy simply didn't come in
contact with many green-and-purple men--or any other color, for that
matter."

"That's what I figured.  I just wanxt to point out that my methodology
isn't foolproof."

"I understand.  So you considered white babies only."

"Right.  By then I was left with a group of twenty or so, and I went to
the Records building and started looking up birth certificates on
microfilm."  '

Austin winced.  Just five minutes of watching microfilm speed-hag
across a screen gave him a splitting headache.  Suddenly he was
immeasurably glad he'd drafted Cato for this chore, even if he did have
to drag the details out of her.  "And?"  he prompted.

"I checked for the hospital and attending physician, figuring Marcy
didn't have benefit of either.  I mean, even if she wandered out of a
hospital or was spirited out, it would have been reported."

"Right, I follow."

"So I came up with two non hospital births, attended by midwives.  I
contacted one by phone.  She assured me she remembered the birth in
question, that there were no problems, and she had done a follow-up
visit with her patient."

"And she could be lying."

"If she was, she was a good liar.  But you're right, it's possible."
;

"Go on.  What about the other one?"

"Her signature on the birth certificate was an illegible scrawl."  "And
that's your prime candidate, right?"  "Right.  Justin Krill."

"Krill?"  Austin grew very still.  "The adoptive father isn't by any
chance Don Krill, is he?"

"Yeah, that's him."

Austin felt a headacha coming on.  He must have made a face, because
Cato jumped to defend her conclusion.

"I dont blame you for being skeptical, but look at the place of birth.
River Rock, Texas.  I cheeked a map.  It's a hundred and fifty miles
from the Cedar Crek dam.  In Texas, that's not all that far."

Austin nodded.  "I've actually been through River lgock.  It was on the
way to my grandmother's."

The microwave buzzed, and Cato went about fixing tea.  Austin pulled a
couple of quarters out of his pocket and got some Sno Balls--pink,
coconut-covered cupcakes--from the vending machine.  "River Rock is
about a three-hour drive from the Cedar Creek dam.  Actually, Cedar
Creek is closer to Dallas than River Rock.  And it seems to me the perp
wouldn't have reported the real birthplace on the certificate,
anyway."

"You think I'm reaching, dont you?"  Cato asked.

"I hope you are."

She frowned.  "Why do you say that?"

"Don Krill.  You know who he is, dont you?"

"Yeah... city council, right?"  She blew on her tea to cool it.  Austin
was mesmerized for half a second, watching her puckered lips.  He shook
his head to clear it.  "Krill is only about the third most politically
powerful individual in all of Dallas, behind the mayor and city
manager.  To even suggest that-his newly adopted child is part of some
black-market baby scam--"

"Is that so bad?  He could be useful if we decided to open the lid on
this and get the media involved.  We could get all the coverage we
wanted."

"Jeez, Cato, what rock have you been living under?  Krill hates the
police.  He and Chief' Livingston can't say a civil word to each other.
Krill actively lobbies against any city employee pay raises, including
ours.  If we come nosing around, insinuating that his kid was born to a
runaway teenager who died in childbirth and whose body was dumped in a
lake, he'll find a way to shackle us.  He might even manage to get us
fired, who knows?"

"Is he really that ruthless?  I mean, you sound like you've tangled
with him before."

"I have.  Remember two years ago when we got our new contract with the
city?  I was one of the union representativesinvolved in the
negotiations.  Krill acted like a real bastard.  It was in the
paper."

"I guess I didn't pay much attention to that stuff," she said with a
shrug.

"Anyway, to answer your question, he/s that ruthless.  And he's no
dummy.  If his wife knows where the baby came from, you can bet Krill
knows.  And he's not about to volunteer any information that will get
him into trouble."

"All right, so we can't confront Don Krill till we have more conclusive
evidence.  Why dont we approach his wife?  She's the one who's
suffering pangs of conscience."

"And she'll do what she has to to keep her child.  No, I'd say she'll
be even more dangerous than her husband if she's cornered.  Anyway,
she'll call him at the first sign of trouble."j

Cato nodded, then thought for a moment.  "Okay, how about the lawyer
who handled the adoption?  He's probably closer to the source,
anyway."

Austin thought about this approach.  "Maybe.  Do you have his naffle?
'

"it's Beaman, !  think.  Travis Beaman.  it's in the photocopies."

"You want to check him out?"  Austin asked, wondering just how far he
could stretch Caro's generosity.

"I would, but !  have to go pick up Scott Humphrey.  He's finally back
from vacation.  Unless you want to go."

Austin considered that option.  "I've got a lot going on here.  As long
as you can scare Humphrey, Fd rather you go."

She stood up straighter.  "I can scare him.  Anyway, Villaverde's going
with me.  The way he stares with those black eyes, he'll scare the pan
off the kid."

"Okay.  Sure you dont want to question Scott once we get him here?"

"Positive."  She answered too quickly, and her eyes widened for just an
instant, almost like she was spooked by the idea of conducting an
interrogation.  She clasped her hands around her cup and headed for the
door.  "Oh, and !  really won't be able to give you much more help on
these cases.  We're shorthanded in Missing Persons, and Sergeant (uayar
says she's gonna bust me back to foot patrol in Deep Ellum if !  dont
quit lois ting my work off on Villaverde."

As they walked back down the hallway, "Austin didn't know whether to be
relieved or disappoinl.  He hadn't waft ted Caro's help in the first
place, but she had proved useful.  He never would have had time to dig
through all that paperwork.  "Well, if you're really that busy--"

"Don't pretend to be sorry, Lomax."  There was a sharp edge to her
voice.  "Now you dont have to worry about me 'getting in your way.""

Had he really said that?  He touched her arm, halting her before they
reentered CAPERS.  "Look, I was way out of line when I said you'd be in
the way, okay?  I appreciate all the help.  And if you change your
mind..."  He let the sentence trail off when Deputy Chief Raines
sauntered out into the hall.

Raines stopped midstride when he saw Cato.  "Well, hello, lady," he
said, smoothing his thinning gray hair with the palm of his
hand--primping, Austin thought, irritated.  "It's a downright pleasure
to see your face in these parts again."

"Hi, Chief."  Caro smiled warmly.  It occurred to Austin that she'd
never smiled at him like that.  "I'm only up one flight of stairs."

"Then you ought to visit more often," Raines said.  "I've been meaning
to thank you personally for stepping in and helping out.  Poor Lomax
here has been given quite a baptism of fire with two such high-profile,
pain-in-the-butt cases when his partner is out with the flu.  I know he
appreciates help from a seasoned pro like you.  Right, Lomax?"

"Yes, sir."  Jeez, Louise!  He hadn't been made to feel like such a
bonehead since his rookie days.  It wasn't as if Cato had any seniority
over him.  In fact, he'd entered the police academy a year ahead of
her, and they'd both gone into investigative work at about the same
time.  He'd checked.  It just so happened he'd spent eight years in
Auto Theft, while she'd sharpened her detective's teeth in Sex
Crimes.

"I'm glad I could be of assistance, sir," Cato said.  "But I was just
telling Corporal Lomax that I need to be focusing on my own job at the
moment.  Tony V'dlavexde has been taking on some of my load, and I ally
can't--"

"Nonsense.  I'll fix it with Quayar and Hall.  We need your help,
Cato."

"I'm flattered, really," she said.  "But I think Austin has things well
in hand--"

"And far too much legwork to handle on his own.  The media folks are
watching us, and I want both of these cases given top priority.  If
that means extra personnel assigned to them, then so be it.  I dont
want any mistakes made."  Raines was looking at Austin when he said
this, but Cato was the one who winced and rubbed her stomach, like she
was working on an ulcer.

"I understand," Austin said resignedly.

The Chief turned to Cato.  "What about you?  Can I c Unt on you?"

"Yes, sir," she answered, looking just short of miserable.  Raines
beamed.  "Fine, fine.  Keep me posted."

Cato shrugged after Raines went on down the hall.  "I tried."  "I know.
I thought you wanted to work on these cases."

"I did.  I mean, I do."  Her answer didn't hold a lot of conviction.

"Is there a problem?"

She shook her head, crossed her arms over her breasts and avoided his
gaze.  "No, no problem.  I'll let you know when I get back with Scott
Humphrey."  With that she turned and practically fled down the hall and
away from him.

Russ Arkin had prepared Caro for the reception she was likely to get
from the Humphreys, who used their money to insulate them from all
unpleasantness.  But she was still surprised by the garish display of
wealth.

Their house, which backed up to the Las Colinas Country Club golf
course, was obscenely huge and grotesquely modern in blinding white
stucco and smoked glass.  Tony pulled his LTD into the driveway and
parked behind Scott's black Porsche, which was next to a Rolls-Royce.

"You do the talking.  I'll just scowl," Tony said.

"Sounds like a plan."

The doorbell played Westminster chimes.  Cato half expected a butler to
answer, but the distinguished, silver-haired gentleman dressed in a
silk robe who opened the door was no doubt Dr.

Humphrey himself.  His face was noticeably red from windburn.  He
frowned and looked down his nose at them.  "Yes?"

Cato flashed her shield.  "I'm Corporal Carolyn Triece with the Dallas
Police Department, and this is Corporal Anthony Villa-verde.  Is your
son Scott at home?"

Dr.  Humphrey immediately puffed up his chest.  "What's this about?" he
demanded importantly.

"We're investigating the disappearance of Amanda Arkin, and we would
like to question Scott."

"Amanda's missing?"  The man exhibited surprise, but not concern.
"Surely you dont think Scott knows anything.  We've been on vacation
for the past week."

"Could you go get Scott, please?"  Tony put in, using his best
Sergeant Friday deadpan voice.  Cato silently thanked him for his
perfect timing.

"He needs to come down to the station with us so we can take his
statement," Cato added.

"This is preposterous!"  Humphrey blustered.  "You can't just come
barging into a private home and make demands lilc--do you have a
warrant or anything?"

Ah, he thought he was so clever.  Dr.  Humphrey apparently believed
that his money and supposed intelligence placed him and his family
above the law.  Cato relished her next question.  "Do we need a
warrant?  I assumed Scott would gladly cooperate in helping us find his
girlfriend."

Humphrey wavered.  A woman Cato assumed was Mrs.  Humphrey appeared,
also dressed in a silk robe but with her blond hair perfectly coiffed.
It looked as if she also, might be wind burned under her makeup, but
Caro couldn't be sure.  "Roger, what's going on?"

"Go get Scott," the doctor barked.  "We'll get this cleared up right
now."

That's what you think.  Caro exchanged a secret look with Tony and bit
her lip to keep from smiling.  "May we come inside?"  she asked
pleasantly.

"No, you may not.  Scott will be with you in a minute."  He closed the
door in their faces.

"I hate this guy," Cato said.  "I hope all the neighbors are watching
out their windows when we take Scotty away.  Let's try and look like
cops so they'll all know."

Tony chuckled.  "You have a mean streak, Caro."

Moments later the door reopened and Scott himself appeared,
henvy-lidded and in need of a shave.  Cato did a lightning-quick
assessment of his appearance, comparing him to Chucky's description of
the man who tried to sink Amanda's car in the river.  He was a big,
burly guy, with a roundish face and medium brown hair.  Uncombed as it
was, his hair could be described as "choppy," Chucky's word.
"Unfortunately, he also had chapped lips and cheeks and a red nose.
Damn.

"Tell them, Scott," Dr.  Humphrey said.

"Look, I dont know anything about Amanda's disappear "You didn't know
she was missing?"

"Well, yeah, I knew she'd split, but I mean, I dont know how or why or
anything."

"And you were so concerned about her you went on a skiing vacation."

"There was nothing I could do."

Dr.  Humphrey jumped in.  "I dont like your tone, young lady."

She took a step forward until she was almost nose-to-chin with him.
"You know what?  I dont care what you like."

Tony placed a restraining hand on her arm.  Nice touch, she thought.
Tony was good.

"Lena, call Mark Glashier--now," Dr.  Humplucy said.  "Scott, dont you
utter another word until our attorney gets here."  He gave Cato a
penetrating look.  "I know he's allowed to have an attorney present.
You didn't bother to inform us of that fact."

"I'm not arresting Scott... yet.  I'm under no obligation to in form
him of his rights.  Do you think he needs an attorney?"  Dr.  Humphrey
didn't answer.

"Your attorney can meet us down at the station, second floor, the old
Police and Courts' Building on Commerce.  We'd like you to come with
us, Scott."

"Not unless you have a warrant," Dr.  Humphrey said.

"You'd like us to arrest him?"  Cato asked incredulously.  "Is that
what you're saying?"

"Dad," Scott broke in, "I'm going with them.  If there's any way I can
help them find Amanda, I will."  He looked at Cato.  "Can I get my
jacket?"

He sounded so sad and resigned, Caro had a hard time maintaining her
head of steam.  "Sure."

He reached into a closet in the entry hall and came up with a blue ski
jacket, which he donned as he headed out the door.

Caro opened the back door of the LTD so Scott could climb in.  As he
did, she noticed the handful of bits of colored paper hanging from the
zipper of his jacket.  "What are these?"  she asked as she inspected
them, although she already knew.

"Lift tickets.  We just got back from Vail last night."

She looked at the tickets one at a time.  December 24.  December 25.
December 26.  Damn, damn, damn.  Unless he was awfully damn clever, he
was in Colorado the night Amanda's car was abandoned.

Chapter 8

It was Amanda's turn to do the dishes.  When dinner was through she
gathered a stack of plates from the table and went obediently into the
kitchen.  This might be her best chance--or her only chance--to talk to
Henry, 'as he was in charge of kitchen cleanup.  Odell had taken the
other girls into the den to watch a video, their reward for good
behavior during the day.

Amanda didn't really care about the movie.  It 'as some religious film,
anyway.  She was just glad that Odell was safely occupied.

"The pecan pie was good," she said in a low voice when she was sure she
and Henry were out of everyone's earshot.  "Did you make it?"

Henry set a stack of dirty dishes on the counter next to the sink.
"Yeah.  Aunt Odell taught me to cook good.  She said since I probably
wouldn't ever be married,.I should learn how to do for myself."

This was one of the longest speeches Henry had ever made in Amanda's
presence.  It was almost a relief to hear someone besides Odell
talking.  "Why does Odell think you won't get mar-tied?"  She asked,
although the answer was fairly obvious.  Henry was weird.  Creepy.  He
had odd facial tics, and sometimes he made faces and grimaces for no
reason.  Occasionally he muttered to himself, too.

"Because I'm different," he said, smiling self-consciously.

As she ran hot, soapy water into the sink, Amanda pretended to be
confounded by his explanation.  "Different, how?"

Now he actually blushed.  "You know, I dont talk so good and I make
faces.  People dont like me."

"Just because you make faces?  That's silly.  It's what's on the inside
that matters.  Whether you're a good person."

"That's what Aunt Odell says.  She says that because I'm helping her
with her holy work, I'll go straight to heaven."

"What holy work is that?"

"You know, with you girls.  She stops you girls from killing your
babies."  He said this in a soft, almost reverent voice.  "Were you
going to kill your baby, Amanda?"

She thought very carefully before answering, unsure how much he already
knew about her.  She didn't want to get caught in a lie at this point.
"I thought about having an abortion.  You know what that is, right?"

"It's when you kill the baby inside you."

"Yes, but some people dont believe a baby is a baby until it's born. So
it's not really killing."

"They're wrong."

"Yes, I think maybe it is wrong.  I had already decided I would let my
baby be born.  But of course, Odell didn't know that when she... when
she took me."

Henry stopped scraping the plates into the garbage.  He grew very
still, and then a slow smile spread across his face.  "I knew it.  I
knew you were different from the others.  I tried to tell Aunt Odell
that, but she said you were a sinner."

"Everyone is a sinner at one time or another," Amanda pointed out.  For
once, she was grateful for her strict Catholic upbringing.  The nuns
had instilled her with enough ammunition to hold her own in any
discussion of this nature.  "But Jesus taught forgiveness," she
continued.  "The important thing is whether we learn from our mistakes,
and whether we're sorry or not.  Isn't that right?"

Henry screwed up his face, as if he was thinking hard.  Then he looked
at Amanda and asked, very earnestly, "Are you sorry?"

She nodded and bit the inside of her lip as hard as she could until
moisture formed in her eyes.  "Yes, I am.  I should never have had ...
relations with the boy who fathered my baby.  He didn't love me, be
just said he did.  He's the one who made me go to that awful clinic
where Odell found me.  But I couldn't go through with it.  And I dont
ever want to see that boy again."  She silently apologized to Scott.

"I'm glad," Henry said.

They worked in silence for a while, with Amanda washing and Henry
drying.  Phoebe, the bloodhound, lay on the floor and watched them
solemnly.  Henry's shotgun leaned against a corner of the room,
reminding Amanda that this brief episode of camaraderie was only an
illusion.

"Henry," she said, breaking the quiet, "what does Odell do with the
babies?"

"She gives them to parents who will love them."

"Oh.  Oh, dear."  Amanda injected a note of alarm in her voice as she
placed a protective hand over her abdomen.

"Don't you want that?  Don't you want your baby to have a good home?"

"Yes, but... well, I want to give it a good home..  I had decided to
keep the baby, you see.  My father was going to help me with the money
and clothes and food, so the baby would have the best of everything,
And then, someday, I would meet a nice man who would love me and my
child, and we could get married and make a family...."  Her voice
broke, and she sniffled loudly.

Henry said nothing, but his brow was pulled low as he stacked plates
and put them in the cabinets.

"Do you think," Amanda ventured, "that 0dell would let me keep my
baby?"

Henry shook his head.  "I dont think so.  See, the babies bring in
money to help run the home.  We get ... fees, you know, from the
couples who get the babies."

Amanda was appalled, though she did her best to hide her reaction.  Not
only was Odell drugging and kidd napping teenage girls, she was
profiting by selling their babies!  The woman was a monster.

Now Amanda began crying in earnest, amazed to find out she could summon
tears at will, even without biting her lip.  "But I want to keep my
baby."  She paused dramatically.  "Hey, I know.  Maybe she could just
let me go.  Then she wouldn't have to feed me or buy clothes for me.  I
wouldn't tell anyone about her, I promise.  Could you talk to her,
Henry?  Could you explain?"

Henry placed a tentative hand on Amanda's shoulder.  "Don't cry,
Amanda," he said, looking genuinely distressed.  "It'll be okay.  You
can have other babies when you get married--lots of them."

"But I want this one.  I already love it.  It's part of me.  Or maybe
that's something men can't understand."

"I understand."  He nodded energetically.  "But I can't talk to Odell.
She dont listen to me.  And she won't let you leave.  No girl has ever
left the home, not till after they have their babies."

"And then what happens to them?"  Amanda couldn't help but ask.

Henry withdrew his hand, much to her relief, and shrugged.  His lack of
response made her shiver.

Amanda dried her tears with her dishcloth.  "Won't you help me, Henry?
I think you're the only one around here who cares what happens to me,
my only friend.  Won't you help me keep my baby?"

Henry frowned.  "I'll think on it.  I'm pretty smart, you know.".

"I know.  And thank you."  She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek,
struggling to keep her revulsion under wraps.

Henry turned bright red.  "I'll finish up in here.  You can go watch
the rest of the movie with the others."

As Austin drove the ten minutes or so to the law firm of smith, Clovis
and Beaman, he mentally reviewed his earlier phone con-vesation with
his brother, Dean, who worked in the' D/s office.  Dean had told him
that Travis Beaman, who had handled Justin Ktill's adoption, was a
senior partner in a high-profile tax law firm.  The firm was well
established, but due to the lousy economy, it didn't have the herd of
wealthy clients it once did, and several associates had been let go in
the past year.

Travis himself had an impeccable reputation.  He was in his late
forties, reputedly in good health, married with no children.

It was unusual that he was the attorney of re.xrd for an adoption,
though not shockingly so.  Most adoptions weren't terribly tricky from
a legal standpoint, and Beaman had probably handled it personally at
the request of the adoptive parents.  Apparently he and Don Krili were
good friends.

Austin had thought long and hard about how to approach Bea-man.  If
Justin Krill was really Marcy Phelps's baby, Beaman wasn't about to let
that fact slip out.  The lawyer would have covered his tracks well. If,
however, the whole adoption was legitimate, Beaman might be a
good-enough guy to allow Austin a peek at the confidential adoption
file--especially if he was worried about Austin's suspicious be' rag
made public.  Austin would be able to eliminate Justin as a candidate
and concentrate on the other adopted babies on Caro's list.

Smith, Clovis and Beaman occupied the entire eighteenth.  floor of the
Southland Life Building.  From the ankle-deep, sage-green carpet to the
solid cherry paneling and antique brass accents, the firm's decor
quietly sot earned affluence--although there was an empty wall the
waiting area where a painting had Once hung.

Austin felt sure the receptionist, a classy redhead with up swept hair
and a demure blue dress, had been hired as much for her looks as
anything' Or maybe it was her name.  A discreet nameplate iden-titled
her as Ms.  Dubois.

"May I help you?"  she asked in a honey-smooth voice.

"I'm Corpora!  Austin Lomax with the Dallas Police Department," he
said, trying to sound quietly ominous as he offered his badge.  "I'd
like to see Travis Beaman, please.  Is he in?"

She checked a list on her desk.  "He's in.  I dont suppose you have an
appointment?"

"No, but I won't take much of his time.  And it's a matter of some
urgency."

The redhead smiled knowingly, dimpling her cheek, then picked up the
phone and talked with someone Austin presumed was Bea-man's secretary.
"You're in luck," she said when she'd concluded the conversation. "He's
in conference, but he'll he done in about fifteen minutes if you'd care
to wait."

"Thanks, I would."

Fifteen minutes turned into thirty and then forty-five, and Austin was
tempted to blow the whole thing off.  This might be nothing but a
wild-goose chase, after all.  But it occurred to him that Beaman might
be deliberately testing his patience, hoping he would go away.  So
Austin held his ground.

At last the great attorney deigned to see the lowly detective.  His
secretary--another very attractive woman--led Austin through a maze of
hallways, past offices and work stations that appeared oddly quiet and
deserted.  Man, Dean hadn't been kidding when he'd said the firm had
laid some people off.

Beaman occupied a corner office, naturally.  The secretary tapped
discreetly on the door, opened it without waiting for a reply and
ushered Austin inside.

The Cowboys could have held scrimmages inside the office."  Austin had
never seen anything so ostentatiously huge.  He thought about his own
little cubbyhole, with its cheap government-issue desk and bare tiled
floor, and he wondered if he hadn't gone into the wrong line of work.

The man himlf was unremarkable looking, with thinning, iron-gray hair
and an expensive suit that did a good job of camouflaging his girth. He
had wire-rimmed glasses and good teeth--or maybe they were capped.

"Good afternoon, Officer Lomax," Beaman said, standing behind his
massive, carved mahogany desk and offering his hand.  His smile was
pleasant but distant as he indicated a delicate, antique looking chair
across from him.  "Have a seat.  What can I do for you?"

Austin almost pointed out that he was Corporal Lomax, not Officer.  But
he decided not to start out on the wrong foot by antagonizing Beaman.
"Thanks for seeing me," he said instead, shaking the lawyer's hand.  He
sat down in the chair, which was much too delicate for even a man of
his moderate size.  He wondered if the chair had been chosen
deliberately, to make clients feel uncomfortable and vulnerable so they
would cough up more money.

"I know you're busy so I'll keep this brief.  I'm investigating a case
with a possible connection to one of your clients, and I believe you're
in a position to clear it up quickly."

"I'll do what I can, of course," Beaman said, "but you realize I can't
violate my clients' confidentiality."

Austin nodded.  He'd figu!  as much.  The case I'm working on involves
a teenage girl who died in childbirth and whose body was dumped in a
lake.  You're probably familiar with it."  Austin watched Beaman
closely.

"You're talking about that Phelps girl," Beaman said.  His face and
voice reflected nothing but calm assurance, but he fiddled with his
coat button.  "What possible connection does she have with this
firm?"

"The police have reason to believe Marcy Phelps's baby was illegally
adopted.  It's possible the adoptive parents, and even their lawyer,
didn't know the c'rcumstances surrounding the child's birth."

"Their lawyer... meaning me?  I'm primarily a tax attorney."  "But
you've handled at least one adoption.  Justin Krill."  Beaman abruptly
dropped any semblance of civility he'd previously shown.  "I handled
that adoption as a favor for a friend.  And you had better not go
nosing around the Krffls and upsetting them.  God knows they've been
through enoughpain."

"That's why I came to you first.  If you can prove, to my satisfaction,
that the child wasn't born to Marcy Phelps--"

"For heaven's sake, Justin Krill's biological mother is personally
known to me.  She's the daughter of a friend of mine.  I knew the
Krills were trying to adopt, and I got the two parties together and
handled the adoption as a favor.  Now, is that all?"  he said
dismissively.

"What's her name?  The biological mother, that is."  ,

"I can't tell you that.  I'm legally obligated to proteet her
privacy.,

Austin sighed impatiently.  "Mr.  Beaman, I can get a subpoena that
will allow me to search your records," he bluffed.  "I have enough
evidence.  I was hoping you would make this easy."

"Look, I dont know where you ever got this crazy idea that Justin Krill
is Marcy Phelps's baby, and I would like nothing better than to open
the Krills' file and show you how wrong you are.  But to do so would
open me up to a lawsuit.  So you just go and get.  your court order. 
Make a fool out of yourself.  I really dont care; Now, if you'll excuse
me, I have better things to do than discuss nonsense. Ms.

Paladin will show you out."

The lovely Ms.  Paladin opened the door at that precise moment, having
been summoned by mental telepathy, it seemed.  Her demeanor was
noticeably cooler as she escorted Austin to the reception area.

Austin had thought he might hit up the secretaries for in for-marion.
But neither Ms.  Paladin nor Ms.  Dubois appeared overly impressed with
his status as a detective.  Hell, a firm this prestigious probably paid
the help well enough that they knew better than to divulge secrets,
anyway, no matter how romantic the notion of assisting with a police
investigation.

Austin left Smith, Clovis and Beaman with no more evidence than when
he'd entered.  In fact, from an intellectual standpoint, Beaman had
been very convincing as the outraged attorney falsely connected to a
crime.

As soon as he returned to the station, Austin sought out Caro.  She was
probably back with Scott Humphrey by now, and Austin was eager to see
what he could get out of the kid.  He was disappointed to find Caro's
desk empty.  The dry-erase board over Sergeant Nona Quayar's desk
reported Cato as out to lunch.

"You looking for Corporal Triece?"  Quayar asked.  "If it's important,
I'll beep her.  She's probably across the street at Dave's Dive,
although I dont see how she can stand that barbecue.  Snout
sandwiches--ugh."  For a large woman, Quayar was able to shiver with
amazing delicacy.

"She and Tony V'filaverde were supposed to pick up a suspect for me,"
he said.

"Oh, right.  He's come and gone."

"Who questioned him?"  Austin asked, bewildered.

"Corporal Triece, I think.  I'm sure if she'd learned anything
mind-boggling, she'd have let you know right away."

Now, that was odd.  Cato had been dead set against interrogating Scott.
What had changed her mind?

"She's riding with Corporal Villaverde.  If you can't reach her on the
car phone, I'll beep her."

"It's not that important," Austin said with a dismissive shake of his
head.  "I'll catch her later."  He was amazed at how eager he'd been
just now to share a little bit of non information with Cato, to see her
reaction, get her feedback.  Less than a week ago he'd simply wanted
her out of his face.

Raines was right about her.  She had a quick mind, even if she was a
little prickly, and she obviously hadn't forgotten the lssons she'd
learned working in CAPERS.  But she was also accustomed to running her
own investigations.  If Austin wasn't careful, she'd be trying to grab
the rems away from him.  He decided he needed to back off, or next
thing he knew his co-workers would be thinking he couldn't solve a case
without hanging on to Cato Triece's apron strings.

When Austin returned to his own' desk, he found about a zillion
messages to deal with.  He flipped through them disinterestedly until
he reached one that grabbed his full attention.  It was from a Sergeant
Norm Wiggs of the Denton Police Department.

Without even taking off his jacket, Austin picked up the phone, dialed
the number and asked for Sergeant Wiggs.  Please, let this be good
nears, he prayed.  He wasn't disappointed.

"Corporal Lomax?  Yeah, we got your man.  Ray Seifert showed up at that
house where he used to live.  He's in custody and he'll be arraigned
this afternoon.  We dont have a prayer of getting ball denied on this
type of sexual assault, so if you want a crack at him--"

"I'll be there in forty minutes."  Yeah, he was definitely in the right
line of work.

Odell ushered an ohedient Amanda into her room and locked the deadbolt.
There, that was the last one.  All of the girls were snug in their
rooms for their afternoon rest period, and Odell would have a few
minutes of blessed peace.

Sometimes the stress of maintaining order and discipline among the ten
teenagers gave her splitting headaches.  Every night she would drop
into bed exhausted, dreading the morning.  Sometimes she even wished
she didn't have to be so harsh with the girls.  But then she would
remind herself that they were sinners.

Amanda was coming along nicely, Odell thought with satisfaction as she
made her way toward her small office, her daytime sanctuary.  After
those first couple of shaky days, during which Odell was convinced
Amanda would be another troublemaker like Terri, the girl had settled
down and was now one of the home's most pleasant, well-behaved
residents.  Odell wished all of them could be like Amanda.

When she reached the office, she unlocked the desk, pulled out her
cellular phone and began checking in with her answering services.  She
had one in each of the major cities of Texas--Dallas, Fort Worth,
Houston, ^usfin and San Antonio.  Also in each of those cities she had
a contact person who could provide her with names and addresses of
young pregnant girls considering abortions.  One was a school counsel
oh but the rest worked at abortion clinics, either as nurses or
psychologists.

Odell was very selective about which girls she ultimately brought to
the home, and she never took too many from any one area, so that no
discernible pattern would develop.  Currently she had two from each
city.

The home was filled to capacity right now.  Terri would he leaving
soon, however.  The girl claimed she'd conceived toward the end of May,
but Odell suspected the baby was closer to term than that.  She needed
to start thinking about replacing Terri.

She was surprised when the Dallas answering service gave her a message
from her brother.  Now, what would he want?  Since Travis never
contacted her except in a dire emergency, she etumed his call right
away.

"Odell," he said.  As always, there was never any affection or emotion
in the greeting.  He kept the conversation brief and to the point.  "I
dont know how it happened, but the police are onto us.  Somehow they've
connected me and the Krills to our little Marcy Phelps."

"Oh, God."  Odell barely breathed the words.

"Why in the hell didn't you do a better job of disposing of that girl's
body?  You could have buried it in the woods, where it might never have
been found."

"Please dont curse, Travis.  You must understand that the girl needed a
Christian burial," Odell said quietly, but with absolute conviction.
"If 'the poor child has any hope of escaping the fires of hell--"

"I appreciate your compassion.  But we can't take that kind of chance
anymore, not with things heating up like they are."  "Yes, I agree."

"Look, it might not be as bad as we think.  The cop who came here was
just fishing.  He didn't know anything for sure, and I certainly didn't
give him anything to work with."

"But how do you suppose the police got your name in the first place?"

"I dont know.  Even if they did manage to unseal the adoption records,
Justin's biological mother is listed as "Patricia Smith."  I guarantee
you Marcy's name was never mentioned around this office."

"Who else knew?"

"Just Don ICrill, and he knows better than to tell anyone.  Even his
wife doesn't know.  I'll talk to him, though.  Odefl... maybe we should
stop."

"No," she said fiafiy.  She slipped off one.  of her orthopedic shoes
and massaged her foot.

"But we've already found parents for four children, and there are at
least six girls at the home who are too far along for abortions. 
That's ten in all."

"Thirty-four.  We have to save thirty-four.  Or dont you remember?"

"I dont remember the exact number, not the way you do.  We were just
children back then."  She could hear the weariness in his voice. They'd
had this argument before.  Travis had never felt as guilty as Odell
about their sins.

"Maybe you were a child, but I wasn't," she reminded him.  "I was
twenty-three when I assisted with the last one."  Odell's stomach
churned and her heart pounded every time she recalled that sweating,
moaning teenage girl and the five-month fetus she had delivered.  The
baby, no bigger than a potato, had writhed briefly before dying.
Odell's father had placed it in a paper sack.

She tnnembered each ease just as vividly, in horrid technicolor.  And
every day of her life, she regretted that she hadn't put an end to the
slaying.  She could have.  But she'd been frightened, so frightened,
because she had helped..  Travis had helped, too.

Odell had started assisting her father when she was sixteen and too
ignorant to understand exactly what was going on.  She wanted more than
anything to be a nurse, and at first she was so excited that her father
was letting her help that she didn't question why those ladies came to
their house instead of her father's office.

Then one day she'd figured it out.  And when she'd confronted her
father, he'd told her they would all go to jail if she opened her
mouth.  She'd been so timid and gullible, so in awe of her father, that
she'd continued to assist him with his devil's work, all the while
dying inside.

The idea for the Good Shepherd Maternity Home had come o her several
years ago--a way to atone for her sins.  She had assisted in killing
thirty-four babies.  If she saved an equlll number from the
abortionist's knife, perhaps she could yet see the kingdom of heaven.
And perhaps she would no longer he tormented by the nightmares.

The preparations had taken years.  She'd had to develop contacts,
renovate the old farmhouse, obtain a gun and learu how not to be afraid
of it.  And she'd had to depend on Travis for a lot of money.  But her
schne was working, and it would continue to work, at least for a while.
She wouldn't let it all go until she had no other choice.

"You never really believed you could save all thirty-four, did you?"
Travis asked, jerking her back to the present.  "We've known all along
that sooner or later the police would catch on to you, no matter how
many precautions we took."

"I was hoping it would he later rather than sooner."

"We're lucky to have gone this far.  It's a miracle none of the three
girls you've released so far have been able to lead the police straight
to you."

"They can't lead the police to me when they have no idea where the Good
Shepherd Home is.  They're drugged when they come here, and drugged
when they leave.  Henry drives them hundreds of miles away before he
puts them out of the car."

"But dont you think it's odd that we've never heard anything on the
news, or read anything in the papers, about those girls he-ing
found?"

"There've probably been stories in the'tr hometown papers," Odell
reasoned.  "None of them was from Dallas.  Only Marcy, and we've heard
plenty about her."

"I still think we should quit while we're ahead.  We could let the
girls go and leave the country.  Lord knows there's not much left here
to stay for.  I dont know how much longer this firm will he able to
hold off the creditors."

"I'm not ready to give up yet," Odell said.  "Let's wait and see if
there are any more problems.  Maybe this will wash over I can't help
but believe the Lord is watching over us, protecting us."

"I dont know, sis.  This is getting a lot more uncomfortable than I'd
bargained for.  I never dreamed the police would start to catch on from
this end."

Odell didn't like this wavering in her brother's attitude.  "Just make
sure you have those new parents in line.  Terri Zamasko could give
birth at any time."

"Look, Odell, I'm getting pretty tired of you ordering me around--"

"Ah, here's Henry," Odell interrupted.  There was a pause.  "Would you
like to speak to your son?  Or perhaps you'd like me to bring him up
for a visit.  I know your dear wife would be thrilled."

Silence greeted her taunting.  Finally Travis spoke again.  "You've
made your point.  All right, we'll continue a little longer.  Like you
said, maybe the trouble will wash over."

But just incas Odell planned to save as many babi as she could in
whatever time she had left.  She would stop being so lecti've about the
girls she brought to the home.  She would put two to a room, if she had
to.  Whatever it took.

Chapter 9

After her hasty lunch of barbecued chicken and iced tea at Dave's, Caro
threw on her quilted jacket and reluctantly headed back across the
street.  She was bummed out about Scott Humphrey.  Since he'd
demonstrated to her satisfaction that he was not a suspect in Amanda's
case, and since Austin wasn't anywhere to be found, she and Tony had
gone ahead and taken Scott's statement.  He had confirmed everything
Russ Arkin had said, and he had added absolutely nothing new.  That
meant the Arkin investigation had slowed to a crawl.

Preoccupied as she headed up the long flight of Stairs into the Police
and Courts Building, Caro wasn't prepared for an assault.  But as she
reached for the door handle, she found herself grasped by the shoulders
and thrown up against the wall--not hard enough to injure her, but
certainly with enough force to make her yelp in surprise.

"Why did you pick up Scott Humphrey and interrogate him like some
common criminal?"  Russ Arkin demanded, his face twisted with fury.  "I
told you he had nothing to do with Amanda's disappearance."

It was all Cato could do not to level the guy.  Somehow she managed to
respond calmly.  "I did what any competent investigator would do under
the circumstances.  And you're right, he had nothing to do with
Amanda's disappearance.  I knew he was innocent five minutes after I
started talking to him.  But I had to find that out for myself.  And if
you dont take your hands off me, I'll have you brought up on assault
charges."

Her threat garnered no response from Russ.

"Mr.  Arkin, if you dont let go, I'll knee you in the groin so hard
you'll be a candidate for the Vienna Boys Choir."

That seemed to shake him loose.  He looked down in surprise, first at
one hand, then the other, as if he couldn't believe what he was doing.
Trembling, he gradually loosened his hold.

"That's better.  I know you're distraught, Russ.  I know you're going
through hell.  I think about it all the time.  And we're doing our
best."

He stared at her through bloodshot eyes.  "It seems your best isn't
good enough."

"Sometimes it isn't," she agreed with a sigh.  Just then she spotted
Austin standing a few feet away, watching them alertly, apparently
ready to intervene at a moment's notice.  She shook her head,
indicating she didn't need any help.

He approached, anyway, an unwelcome distraction.

"Russ, you remember Corporal Lomax, dont you?"  Cato asked, nodding
toward Austin.  The sudden burst of civility seemed out Of place.

"Yeah, sure, how are you?"  Russ said in a wooden voice, offering his
hand in a perfunctory shake.

"Look, why dont we all go inside?"  Cato suggested.  "We can sit down,
have some coffee and Austin and I will--"

"I was just on my way out," Austin interrupted, "and I'm kind of in a
hurry.  And Cato, I need you to come with me."

"Oh, but--" she started to object.

"It's okay," Russ said.  "I shouldn't be here wasting.  your time like
this, anyway.  I didn't expect it to drag on like this "His voice
cracked and a sheen of moisture formed over his eyes.  He looked so
pitiful that Cato couldn't help herself.  She touched his' arm, then
squeezed it gertfly.  "I won't give up on Amanda.  Don't you give up,
either.  Call me tomorrow morning, and I'll bring you up to speed,
okay?"  It wasn't like her to offer hope and optimism in a case like
this.  It especially wasn't her style to intimately touch a man she
wasn't close to.  But Russ's utter dejection got to her.  She'd never
seen such pain in a man's eyes.  He pulled away awkwardly.  "Thanks,
Caro.  Sorry for the ... you know, for acting like an ass."  "It's
okay."

As Russ turned to leave, Austin was already grabbing Caro's hand to
drag her down the stairs toward his Bronco, which was parked illegally
on the street.  "You're a strange lady," he said with a laugh.  "First
you threaten to turn the guy into a soprano, then you get downright
mushy with him.  Sounds like love to me."

"Can it, Lomax," she said in disgust, then reconsidered.  "So you saw
the whole thing?"

"Pretty much."

"And you didn't feel compelled to 'save' me?"  His self-control
surprised her.  Most men, even her colleagues, refused to believe she
could take care of herself.  What she lacked in brute strength, she
made up for in quickness.

"I figured you could have turned the guy into mincemeat if you'd wanted
to.  Jeez, I can't believe he was stupid enough to assault a cop in
front of a police station.  He could have gotten himself shot."  Austin
opened the passenger door for her--not out of any sense of chivalry,
but for expediency, Cato figured.

She unlocked his door from the inside as he walked around.  "He's not
thinking too clearly, poor guy," she said as Austin climbed in.  "He
really loves his daughter.  It's kind of refreshing, in a way."  She
automatically fastened her seat belt.  "Am I enti-fled to know where
we're going?  Or is this some clever ploy so you can drag me to your
den of iniquity and have your way with me?"

The silence stretched uncomfortably as he started the engine.  Finally
he turned, giving her what could only be described as a leer.  "Nice
thought, but when I said I needed you, that's not what I meant.  We're
going to Denton.  The police there picked up Ray Serfeft this
morning."

"All right!  That's the best news I've had in days."  Her enthusiasm
quickly gave way to wariness.  "What do you need me for?"

"They won't be able to hold him for long after his arraignment.  I
tried to get an arrest warrant for the sexual assault on Marcy, but the
judge wouldn't go for it, not based on the admittedly iffy testimony of
an eleven-year-old.  Without the vie tim testimony, there's no hope of
making the charge stick.  But we can still take a crack at him."

Not on a bet.  "You can crack all you want.  Leave me out of it,
please."

He gave her a sideways look.  "Were you, or were you not, once known as
the Terror of the Sex Crimes Unit?"

She forced a laugh.  "That was a long time ago."

He was silent for a few moments as he negotiated downtown lunchtime
traffic.  As soon as he was headed up the 1-35 on-ramp, h continued.
"You can't have forgotten everything.  Anyway, I've never in my life
questioned a sexual offender.  I dont want this messed up."

She stared at him, her mouth hanging open.  "Wait a minute.

Did aliens invade your body and replace your brain?"

"Huh?"

"You're actually asking for my help?  A week ago you didn't want me
within a hundred feet of you or your cases."

"Yeah, well, a week ago I thought I was going to solve both these cases
in record time and get a medal or something."  He shook his head and
gave a Short, self-deprecating laugh.  "Now I'm starting to look
downright incompetent.  I'd 'be crazy not to take advantage of your
expertise in this type of situation."  "So I'm supposed to make you
look good?"  "Yeah," he answered without hesitation.

The man constantly amazed her.  At least he was honest.  "Well, sorry
to disappoint you, but I have no intention of interrogating

Ray Seifert.  You might as well take me back to the station."  "I
can't.  Don't have time."

"Hell," Cato muttered.  "Give me the phone.  Sergeant Quayar is going
to have a fit."

He pulled his portable cellular phone from his pocket and handed it to
her.  "Don't worry.  Chief Raines talked to Ouayar and Hall.  You're
cleared to work with me whenever I need you."

Just what I always wanted, she thought as she dialed the number.
"Sergeant Quayar?  This is Corporal Triece.  I'm being kidnapped by
Austin Lomax--"

Austin took the phone out of her hand and put it to his own car.  "This
is Corporal Lomax.  Triece and I are on our way to Denton to
interrogate a suspect in the Marcy Phelps case.  That's not a problem,
is it?"  He listened a moment, then nodded.  "Good, good.  I really
appreciate your loaning her to me.  She's been a big help.  Thanks."
Then he laughed.  "You got it, Nona," he said before disconnecting.

"You call my sergeant "Nona'?"

"We worked the same beat over in Southeast for a while before she
transferred to Youth Division.  She's a crack-up."

"Quayar, a crack-up?  I always thought her face was made of stone."

Austin grinned.  "She miles for me."

Yeah, and so does most of the world's female population.  Austin
probably had conquests all over the department.

"So, you want to tell me about it?"  he asked casually.

"About what?"  Cato didn't think he was talking about Sergeant
Quayar.

"Why you refuse to question Se'ffert."

She squirmed a little in her seat.  "Interrogations aren't my cup of
tea, that's all."

"You questioned those kids in Taryton.  And Scott Humphrey."

"The kids were witnesses, not suspects."

"And Scott?"

She filled him in on what she'd discovered about their previously prime
suspect.  "Anyway, you weren't there.  I didn't handle any of the
interviews very well."

"You found out what we needed to know."

She shrugged.  How could she explain that a rape suspect was a whole
different thing?  Yeah, she'd once been the Terror, all right.

And she'd terrorized one poor man right into his grave.  "Fine," Austin
said, the single word clipped.

They rode in silence for thirty minutes or so, with Cato growing more
uncomfortable with each mile they traveled.  She'd seldom seen Austin
truly angry with anyone.  She was the one with the hot temper. Normally
she didn't back off an argument this easily.  But, oddly, she found
herself wanting to appease him.  She actually felt guilty for making
the affable Austin mad.

"There's a part of me that comes to the surface when I'm dealing with a
rapist or a murderer," she began cautiously, "and it's a part I dont
like."

"Look, you dont owe me any explanations--" "Apparently I do."

He flexed his arms and squeezed the steering wheel until his knuckles
turned white, then relaxed.  "Only if you want to."

Hell, maybe she should talk about it.  It amazed her that no one in the
department had connected Charlie Northcutt's death with her transfer to
Missing Persons.  But they all had their own problems, she supposed.

The only person she'd ever told was the staff shrink, and somehow his
attempts to absolve her of guilt had been less than effective.

"Have you ever been afraid of something inside you?"  she asked
Austin.

He thought for a moment.  "You mean, like when I'm at the firing range,
blasting away at a target, and I'm fantasizing about taking down some
poor sucker, and I realize that not only am I capable of killing, but
that I might even enjoy it a little?  Is that what you're talking
about?"

She studied him, gauging his sincerity.  Maybe he would understand.
"Yeah, something like that."

"They say all humans have a killing instinct, and it just takes the
right conditions to bring it out.  It's a part of being human.  But it
does scare me sometimes.  Did you... I mean, you never killed anyone,
did you?"

"Yes.  Oh, not with a gun or a knife.  It wasn't that swift or sure."
She stopped, uncertain whether she could continue.

"Tell me about it," Austin said.  It was not a demand, but a gentle
invitation, one Caro felt compelled to accept.

She took a deep, steadying breath and plunged in.  "You might remember
the ease.  Charlie Northcutt.  He was in his twenties, borderline
mentally retarded, lived with his mother.  He was con-vie led of raping
and impregnating a thirteen-year-old neighbor girl.  The girl picked
him out of a lineup, and subsequently he gave a full confession. 
Within six months of going to jail he killed himself--"

"Oh, yeah, I remember now," Austin said, "After he died, the supposed
victim recanted her accusation.  Said she never even had intercourse
with the man, that it was her boyfriend who got her pregnant and she
made up the rape so she wouldn't get in trouble.  Sad case."  Austin
shook his head, then glanced over at Cato.  "I take it you were
involved somehow."

Even four years later, the memory filled her with self-loathing.  But
she forced herself to admit what she'd done.  "I interrogated Charlie
Northcutt for six hours.  I didn't let up on him for one minute.  I
didn't let him see his mother, which was all in the world he wanted. He
was scared to death, and I loved it."

Austin took the Oak Street exit and waited patiently for her to
continue.

"I browbeat the man until he was in tears, begging me to leave him
alone.  And then you know what I did?  I told him that if he wanted to
see his mother, all he had to do was confess and I'd let him go.  Then
I led him step-by-step through the confession.  By then he would have
admitted to anything if he thought it was what I wanted to hear."

Austin said nothing, but he reached under the seat and retrieved a box
of tissue, which he laid on the seat beside her.  It was only then. she
realized her cheeks were wet with tears.

"Damn," she muttered as she grabbed a handful of tissues and mopped her
face, then blew her nose.  She had never, in eleven years on the force,
cried in front of a fellow officer.  At home, in bed, in the dark,
yeah, but not on the job.  "You mention this to anyone, Lomax, and
I'll... I'll..."  Hell, she couldnYeven think of a decent threat.

He smiled as he pulled up in front of the Denton police headquarters.
"My lips are sealed."  He cut the engine, and then he did something
that totally flummoxed Cato.  He reached over and smoothed a lock of
her hair behind her ear in a gesture that could only be described as a
caress.  "So, you helped send an innocent man to jail.  It happens.
We're trained to go into every interrogation assuming the suspect is
guilty.  And ninety-nine percent of them are.  It sounds to me like you
were just doing your job--and doing it well."

Cato blew her nose again, acutely aware of Austin's hand resting
lightly on her shoulder.  "Yeah, I was good at my job," she said, her
voice muffled by the tissue.  "But I enjoyed it just a little too much.
It's like what you were talking about.  All cops believe they can kill,
if they have to.  But what if we find out we enjoy it?  I had not one
ounce of compassion for that poor man.  I was no better than a ... a
Neanderthal, feeling that surge of triumph as he kills a wild animal
with a rock.  If doing my job well means losing my humanity, I dont
want any part of it."

"And I still maintain that the killing instinct is part of our
humanity.  As long as we control that instinct, and channel it into
socially acceptable avenues, we're okay."

"What I did to Charlie North cuR was not socially acceptable by
anyone's definition."

"I think you could be Wrong about that.  You know how faulty human
memory is.  Just try questioning three different people who all
witnessed the same accident.  You've probably built that scene up in
your mind until you think you behaved like some kind of monster.  It
couldn't be as bad as all that, or Northcutt's attorney would have made
a stink about it."

"Yeah, maybe," she replied, unconvinced.  "C'mon, we've got work to
do."  "Go ahead.  I'm staying here."

He didn't argue with her.  Instead he climbed out of the car, calmly
walked to the passenger door and jerked it open, then reached across
her and unfastened her seat belt.  "Stop whining and get out of the
damn car.  If you dont want to interrogate Se'ffert, then at least be
there to coach me.  Or dont you want to find out who kidnapped Marcy
Phelps?"

"You know, Lomax, you can be a real ass at times."  But she was smiling
as she said it.  And she got out of the car.

Ray Seifert gave new meaning to the term "hostile witness."  He was
obviously well acquainted with the procedure of being interrogated With
his lawyer a comfortable two feet away, Seifert wasn't about to admit
anything.  His expression was smug, his answers glib, and he made
Austin all too aware of the killing instinct.  He wanted nothing more
than to fit his hands around Se'ffert's scrawny neck and throttle the
truth out of him.

But Austin conducted his questioning by the book.  "How did you feel
when Marcy's body was found?"

The smug smile abruptly fled Seifert's face, and his complexion paled
noticeably.  "She's dead?"

"Do you mean to tell me you didn't know her body had been recovered?"

"No!  I told you, man, I've been up in Oklahoma for the past month,
working my ass off twelve hours a day on a construction job.  I dont
read the papers, and if it was on TV I missed it.  What happened to
her?"

"I thought you could tell me."

"Whoa, wait a minute.  If you're trying to pin her murder on me you can
just forget it.  I've been up in Oklahoma for weeks, and I got a lot of
people who'll swear I never left until last night."

"That's interesting.  You're providing an alibi for her murder when I
haven't even told you when she died."

"When did she die?"

Either Seifert was genuinely upset, Austin thought, or he was good at
faking it.  "Around the middle of December, give or take a few days."

"I was on the job twelve hours a day, seven days a week.  I didn't even
have a car, man.  I'm telling you, I haven't seen the girl for
months."

"When was the last time you saw her?"

"I already told you, it was some time before Mindy and me brok up.
April or May.  It was way before Marcy disappeared."

Austin stood up and began to pace.  "I suppose you dont know anything
about Marcy's baby, either."  He watched Seifert's face closely.  He
noticed that Cato, too, had stopped filing her nails and had grown very
still.

Seifert's eyes widened in surprise.  "Marcy was pregnant?"  Suddenly
Cato was out of her chair, slapping the palms of her hands on the
tabletop and leaning menacingly toward the suspect, reminding Austin of
a cobra.  "Of course she was pregnant, because you got her that way."

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute," Seifert said.  "I didn't have nothing to
do with that."

"Oh, yeah?"  Caro said, almost nose to nose with Serferr.  Even the
attorney was unconsciously backing away from her.  "That's not what
Debby Phelps says.  She was listening at the bedroom door that day you
raped Marcy.  You remember, dont you?  That day during spring break
when Mindy went to the video store and you decided to get yourself a
little from her baby sister?"

"Hey, that girl was no baby," Se'd ert objected.

Austin sent up a silent prayer of thanks.  Se'd ert had just as good as
confessed.  Cato sat back down, and the lawyer whispered a few frantic
words into Se'ffert's ear.

"She was no baby," Serfeft repeated.  "But I didn't rape her."  "Debby
Phelps says you did," Austin said, continuing the interrogation.  He
chanced a look at Cato, but she was back to filing her nails, glancing
up every few seconds.

"Debby Phelps is a little girl with a big imagination," Serfeft said.
"I can't believe you'd even listen to her."

"Fortunately, we dont have to rely on her testimony," Cato interrupted
again.  "When Marcy found out she was pregnant, she promised you she
wouldn't tell anyone.  But she didn't keep that promise."

Damn, but Caro could bluff, Austin thought.  He would remember never to
play poker with her.

"She confided in her teacher, Melanie Blaylock," Cato continued, idly
tapping her nail file against the tabletop.  The lawyer whispered
something else to Se'd ert--probablY rain ding him that Melanie
Blaylock's testimony would be hearsay evidence and not' admissible in
court.

Caro went for the kill.  "And then there's the baby.  When we catch up
with him--and rest assured, we will--a DNA test will prove you're the
father.  It seems to me, Ray, that you had a very good motive for
kidnapping little Marcy and stashing her away someplace where she
couldn't slap a paternity suit on you.  It's the only motive we've got.
So you better tell us the truth now.  Getting caught in a string of
lies won't look good to a jury."

Se'ffert conferred briefly with his lawyer before responding.  "Okay,
look, I had sex with Marcy, okay?  Consensual sex."

"Ray," the lawyer interrupted, "I dont think you should--" Se'rfert
became very agitated.  "They're trying to pin a murder on me, you
idiot, dont you see?  If they catch me lying about this, they'll think
I'm lying about everything."  He turned back to Austin.  "Marcy invited
me into her bedroom and started taking off her clothes.  What was I
supposed to do?"

"Just say no," Caro murmured, quietly enough that only Austin heard
her.

"And then later she told me she was pregnant, but I dont know that I
was the father.  That girl was hot to trot, I'm telling you.  She could
have been doing it with her whole high school football team for all I
know."

"Marcy Phelps, hot to trot?"  Austin said, skeptically shaking his
head.  "I dont think so.  In fact, I think she was a virgin.  A seared
little virgin."

Seifert began picking at a splinter in his hand.  "She said she wasn't.
And she didn't act scared.  But she wasn't very experienced."

The lawyer said nothing.  He just looked on with his arms folded,
wearing an expression of extreme annoyance.

Austin sat back down, rubbing his hand over his face.  Abruptly be
changed tack.  "Look, Ray, there's been no murder committed.  Marcy
died of natural muses.  If she ran away and met you someplace, if you
lived with her in Oklahoma or wherever, there's not much we can charge
you with.  The worst I can imagine is,.um, improper disposal of human
remains."

He shook his head.  "No way, man."

"Now, come on, Ray.  It's easy to imagine what happened.  She had the
baby, you couldn't get her to a hospital in time, she died, you
panicked.  It's natural.  You drove her to--"

"I'm telling you, I ain't seen that girl since last spring."  "Then how
did you find out she was pregnant?"

"We talked on the phone."  His eyes darted back and forth nervously.
"She was gonna take care of it, you know?  I even gave her the money.
But then she split.  I figured she used the money to buy a bus ticket
or something."

"And you never saw her or heard from her again?"

"I never saw her or heard from her again, and that's the God's honest
truth."

Austin went at Ray Seifert from several different directions, but his
story didn't change.  After another hour, during which Cato had nothing
to add, he called it quits.

"You think he's telling the truth?"  Austin asked Care as soon as they
were out of Se'ffert's hearing.

Care chewed her lower lip.  "Unfortunately, yeah.  I dont think he
knows what happened to her.  We can check with his employer in
Oklahoma, take a look at the place where he was living, but..."  She
spread her hands in a gesture of helplessness.

"And if he's guilty of anything more than sexual assault, he'll be long
gone before we can arrest him again.  Too bad we dont have anything to
charge him with that'll stick."  But Austin didn't really care about
Ray Seifert now.  If Care was right--and Austin tended to believe she
was--he would be no more use in the Phelps investigation.

Austin waited until someone came to take Selfeft back to his holding
cell, but Cato disappeared.  He found her a few minutes later in a
break room, making lea from the tea bags she kept in her purse.  She
looked kind of pale.  And pensive.

"That was damn good work you did," he offered as he perused the vending
machines.  No Twin Ides or Ding Dongs.  A generic cinnamon roll would
have to do.  He shoved quarters into the machine and pushed the
appropriate button.

She shrugged.  "He was easy."

"Not to me, he wasn't.  I'm curious.  What made you jump in when you
did?"

She sth're d her tea with a plastic spoon.  "When he acted like he was
surprised to hear Marcy'd been pregnant, I knew he was lying.  It was
the first show of weakness I saw, and I... just couldn't let it
pass."

"How did you know he was lying" Austin had interrogated plenty of car
thieves, fences and chop shop owners.  Sometimes it was easy to spot a
lie.  But with Seifert, Austin never would have been able to pick that
exact moment as the one when truth was suspended and lying began.

She shrugged again.

He pulled a chair up next to hers and straddled it, then busied his
hands by unwrapping the cinnamon roll.  "Did you enjoy it?"  he asked,
dipping 'his head and peering into her face.

She suppressed a smile.  "If you have to ask, you're doing something
wrong."

The sexual innuendo produced a tiny frisson of pleasure along his
spine, but he pushed it away--for the moment.  She wasn't going to
evade his question that neatly.  "Did you enjoy making Ray Se'ffert
talk?"  he clarified.

She set her cup down with a thunk and looked him in the eye.  "Yeah.
Yeah, I did, smart ass.  I wasn't sure I could ever do that again.  But
I guess it's like riding a bicycle."

"And you.  ion feel guilty?"

"For making him talk, or for enjoying myself?"

"Enjoying yourself."

She took a deep bath, apparently taking his question very seriously. 
"I felt a little sick to my stomach.  Scared, maybe, to know it's still
there inside me."

Austin didn't have to ask what it was.

"But I guess if I didn't enjoy making slime squirm, I wouldn't be able
to do it so zealously.  And someone has to do it, or guys like Se'ffert
go free."

"Then are you glad I made you come in that room with me"

She bristled.  "You didn't make me do any..."  Then she stopped and
stared at him through narrowed eyes.  "You want my gratitude, is that
it?  You want me to admit that you were right and I was wrong, to fall
on my knees and thank you for forcing me to face my fears--"

"A simple 'thank-you' would do."  He grinned.  With her prickly
self-righteousness, Caro made herself such an easy target.  And he
loved yanking her chain.  When she didn't respond, he reached over and
touched her chin with his finger, nudging it until she was facing him.
"Come on, Cato, you can say the magic word."

At that moment, Austin noticed two things.  One was that Cato hadn't
batted away his hand when he had touched her.  He had invaded her
personal space--something he bet she didn't normally allow, even from
her close friends like V'filaverde--and she'd let Austin touch her
face.  The second thing was that she was looking at his mouth.

He lost all interest in teasing her.  Without thinking much about it,
he leaned closer and captured her full lips with his.

He could almost taste her surprise.  He definitely felt her brief
acceptance, the instantaneous exchange of passion contained in one
shared breath, the barely audible sound in the back of her throat, the
hand that fluttered on his shoulder.  Then all at once she was pulling
away, jumping out of her chair, her hand over her mouth as if she'd
done something unspeakable.

"Are you nuts?"  she said, her words no more than a frantic whisper.
"Anyone could walk in here."

He should have said something clever, like, Is that your only
objection?  A lack of privacy?  I can fix that.  But he was more than a
little shaken up himself.  He certainly hadn't planned to kiss her.
He'd thought about it before, but he'd never dreamed he would actually
be dumb enough to do it.  So rather than being witty or urbane, he
blurted out, "I'm sorry, Cato.  I didn't mean to.  It just happened."

His totally graceless reply seemed to take the starch out of her. 
Maybe she recognized that his distress was at least equal to hers. 
"Well..." She reclaimed her chair, although she scooted it a few inches
farther from his, and she sipped at her tea, clutching the cup as if it
might spring twenty leaks at any moment.

He sat up straighter and rubbed the back of his neck.  Slowly he felt
his cock sureness returning.  "Surely you've thought about it."

He expected total denial.  Ridicule, even.  So she surprised him when
she said, "Yeah, I've thought about it."  At least she'd admitted there
was tension between them.

"I didn't think I'd imagined..."  HIS voice trailed off.

"Nevertheless, that was total insanity."

"Total," he agreed, even as his body clamored for more of her.  He
wondered, not for the first time, what she would look like out of those
oversized, shapeless, sex-disguising clothes she wore.

"We have to work together.  We can't even be thinking about--"

"Absolutely."

"Suspicion returned to her eyes.  "Are you making fun of me?"

"No, no."  He shook his head vehemently.  "I agree with you one hundred
percent.  We'll forget it ever happened."  Fat chance.  He knew he
would relive that minuscule taste of ecstasy a thousand times over the
next twenty-four hours.

"All right, then."

"I'll go thank Sergeant Wiggs for helping us out.  I'll meet you at the
car."

She nodded.  "Oh, Austin?  Thank you."

It took a moment for Austin to realize she wasn't thanking him for the
kiss.

Sergeant Wiggs had left the station, so Austin scribbled a note telling
Wiggs that if he ever needed a favor from the DPD, all he had to do was
ask.  On his way out of the station, as luck would have it, he ran
square into Ray Seifert, who apparently had just made bail.

Austin tried to ignore him.  He had about reached his slime tolerance
for the day, and it wouldn't take much to provoke him.  But Seifert
flagged him down.

"Hey, you believe me, dont you?"  he asked Austin.

Austin continued on his path toward the exit.  "I dont kn w, should

I?"

"You seem like a reasonable guy.  Now, that gal who's with you, she's
another story."

Sensing some sort of imminent male bonding, Austin slowed his pace and
managed a weak laugh.  "She's tough, all right."

"It's hard to talk about, well, you know, in front of her."  Seifert
was getting downright chatty, and his lawyer was nowhere around. 
Austin decided to take advantage of the situation.  "Women can be a
pain," he agreed, thimking again of how Caro's mouth felt against his
own, wondering what it would feel like on other parts of his body.

"Like, I didn't just get the girl pregnant and drop her.  I mean, it
takes two, you know?  And I tried to do the right thing.  I told her
not to tell anyone because I thought it would be better for her if no
one ever found out.  Her parents would have stroked out."

They just about did, Austin wanted to say, when they identified her
body.  But he bit his tongue.

"And I paid for her to get rid of it.  I even found the clinic and made
the appointment for her.  I did the best I could."  .

Something clicked in Austin's mind.  He thought about another young
girl who had missed her appointment at an abortion clinic.  "What was
the name of the clinic?"

Caught off guard by the sharpness of the questions, Serfeft stopped in
his tracks.  "Uh, I dunno.  Does it matter?"

Austin stopped, too.  "Yes, it matters.  Think.  What was it called?"

Seifert screwed up his face in a sincere-appearing attempt to remember.
"I think it was the Woman's Blah-Blah Clinic, something like that. Over
on Harry Hines.r'

"Women's Services Clinic?"  Austin corrected him.  His skin tingled
with anticipation.

Seifert showed instant recognition.  "Yeah, that's it."

Oh, God.  That was the same clinic Amanda Arkin had gone to.

Chapter '10.

We can't just charge in there and round everybody up for questioning,"
Cato said.  She and Austin were back at the station, discussing how to
proceed now that they had this new, interesting piece of evidence
provided by Ray Se'ffert.  Austin was seated, his feet propped on the
edge of his desk.  Eating again.  At least it was a granola bar this
time.

Cato, too edgy to sit, was pacing the small area in front of his desk,
her hands shoved into the pockets of her oversize green cardigan.  "It
might be pure coincidence that both Marcy and Amanda visited the same
clinic.  And if it isn't, a showy display of police authority might
drive our suspect underground, or prompt him to cover his tracks.  We
dont even know what we're looking for."

"So what do you suggest?"  Austin asked, arms crossed, challenging.  He
was once again cocky and superior, proud of the fact that he had
"ferreted out" this piece of information from Seifert,

Cato suspected Se'ffert had simply volunteered his juicy tidbit, but
she didn't say so.  Let Austin bask in his own glow.  He seemed to
enjoy it so thoroughly.  At least they now had something to occupy
their minds besides that stupid, stupid kiss.

"I think we should approach the owner of the clinic," she said, "this
Dr.  Wayrick, gain his cooperation and ask to see personnel records. We
can find out which current employees were also on the payroll back when
Marcy disappeared--and if they were actually at work that day.  If we
can discover any mysterious absences that coincide with the dates Marcy
and Amanda vanished, we might have a suspect."

Austin popped the last bite of his granola bar into his mouth and made
a production out of chewing it thoroughly.  "Okay.  Let's show up
without warning, though.  I'll get a subpoena tonight and we'll hit the
clinic at the crack of dawn tomorrow, so we can catch Wayrick on his
way in.  I dont want to take the chance of his being 'in surgery' all
day.  How about if I pick you up at your house about six tomorrow?  We
can stop and have breakfast."

"Six in the morning?"  she squeaked.  She had visions of herself
dragging herself out of bed to answer the door in her bathrobe,
complete with morning breath, puffy eyes and Medusa's hair.  And

Austin would be standing on her front porch, perfect as usual.  "What's
wrong, you dont like getting up early?"  "Do you?"

"I get up at four-thirty every morning, run three miles--" "Then you
stuff your face with sugar doughnuts, I'll bet."  Three miles?  She
hadn't done that since the police academy, and then she'd thought she
was going to die.  No wonder he looked so good.

"If I didn't eat high-calorie foods, I'd waste away to nothing.  Fast
metabolism."

She put her hands over her ears.  "I dont want to hear it.  People with
fast metabolisms should be shot.  I'll be ready at six."  She gave him
directions to her apartment, which was actually haft of a
seventy-year-old duplex in East Dallas.

"The M streets," Austin commented.  "Nice neighborhood."  "It's
okay--convenient, relatively safe and kinda pretty."

"And let's not forget, it's close to Lower Greenville.  You do much
partying over there?"

His question caused a flurry of butterflies to attack her stomach.  Was
he just making idle chitchat, or gearing up to ask her out?  "No, I
dont go out much.  Look, I gotta go.  There are a couple of things I
need to check into before I go home tonight.  I'll see you tomorrow
morning."

She made a hasty escape, but the slightly bwildered expression on
Austin's face stayed with her for a few minutes.  As she made a stop at
the ladies' room, she allowed herself the luxury of imagining-just for
the heck of it--going out on a date with Austin.  Maybe they would go
to a movie, some silly action-adventure flick, and they would share
popcorn and squeeze hands during the scary parts .... She must be out
of her mind.  So the guy was slightly attracted to her.  That didn't
mean anything.  And even if it did, She'd made it a hard-and-fast rule
never to date a fellow cop--especially one

she worked with.  Cops were notoriously unlucky in the relationship
department.  Two of them together were usually disastrous.  Besides,
she definitely didn't want to be just one on his list of conquests.
She'd be right up there with Sergeant Quayar, swooning to accommodate
his every request.

"Nice of you to grace us with your presence," Tony said from his desk
as she entered Missing Persons.  A few snickers from around the room
followed his greeting.

She walked over to his desk, placed her hands on the top, and leaned
over, unsmiling.  "You know damn well this schedule is not my
choice."

As usual, her acidity had no effect on' Tony.  He merely smiled and
said, "You could try being a little nicer to me, since I'm car-tying
half your caseload."

"Which I appreciate.  But I could do without the snide comments.  Sorry
I barked."  She sat down and began shuffling papers.  She shouldn't be
so grumpy.  After all, she and Austin had gotten some decent breaks
today.  Then again, it wasn't work that was getting to her.  It was the
way she was starting to feel around Austin Lomax.

He irritated the hell out of her.  Sometimes she wanted just to smack
him.  And yet she'd trusted him enough to tell him about Charlie
Northcutt.  And she'd let him kiss her.  No, worse, she'd kissed him
back.  Much as she wanted to forget it had ever happened she couldn't
push it out of her head for long.

Tony was in her face again, having rolled his chair over to her desk.
"Caro, you really okay?"  he asked, no longer teasing.

"Yeah."  She flipped through phone messages hardly registering what
they said.  "Hey, Tony, how long you been married?"

"Nine years.  Why?"

"You happy?"

"What kind of question is that?  Of course I'm happy.  I've got the
greatest wife in the world.  You ever seen me even look at an other
woman?  You ever seen me hang around here when I dont have to?"

She pointed an accusing finger at him.  "What about Christmas

He rolled his eyes.  "My in-laws were at my house.  That's different.
Why are you asking me this?"

She shrugged.  "No rem son She forced her mind back to work matters.
"I'm on to something hot, Tony.  Or it could be, anyway.

AUstin and I may have found a connection between the Phelps and

Arkin cases."

"No kidding?"  lflexively he reached into his breast pocket for a
cigarette, which he hadn't carried around for ten months.  "Damn.  You
got any gum?"

As she rifled through her desk drawer looking for an errant stick of
Juicy Fruit, she explained what Ray Seifert had revealed.  "Ah, how
about a cherry cough drop?"

Tony pulled a face.  "Never mind.  So, what's your next move?"  "We're
going in tomorrow to ask the doctor at the clinic some questions.
Meanwhile, I have a hunch about something.  Want to help me follow it
up?"

Tony immediately started rolling his chair backward.  "This sounds like
more work."

"Just a few phone calls.  To every police department in the
Me-troplex."

He groaned.  "You gotta be kidding."

"Look.  I'm thinking that.  if these two girls am connected to that
clinic, maybe there are others.  Two could be a coincidence.  If I
could find even one more, we'd know for sure we were barking up the
right tree."

"This is a shot in the dark, and you know it."

"But shots in the dark sometimes pay off.  Think about it, Tony.  We
might be on the verge of breaking up a... a serial kidnapping and
baby-thief ring or something."

Tony sighed in defeat.  "I'll give you exactly one hour on this
wild-goose chase.  Then I'm going home."

"An hour, that's great.  Now, we're looking for missing teenage gifts,
presumed runaways, possibly pregnant.  Any names we come up with I'll
take with me tomorrow and try to compare them to a patient list at the
clinic."  '

"Okay," he said dubiously.  "You take the Dallas area, I'll take Fort
Worth, and we'll, uh, meet in Arlington, I guess."

"Thanks, Tony.  You're a good friend, you know that?"

He actually blushed as he turned back to his own desk and began
flipping through his Roloalex.

By the end of their shift at three o'clock, they had barely scratched
the surface.  There were dozens of little municipalities surrounding
Dallas and Fort Worth, and each had its own police department with its
own missing persons files, and there was seldom any coordination among
them.  Still, Care had come up with one ease that fit the profile she
was looking for--a college freshman from Texas Christian University in
Fort Worth, pregnant, mixed-up and missing.  Like with Amanda Arkin's
cas, authorities had assumed Julie Yates needed some time to herself.

"And listen to this, Tony," Care said excitedly after begging for every
detail of the case over the phone.  "After she'd been gone a week, her
patents received a letter from her saying that she was okay, and that
she was staying with friends in Dallas for a while.  They thought it
was on the level, and the police took her off the critical list.  It
seems she's always been kind of unstable.  But now that she's been gone
three months and no word, they're starting to get worried again."

Tony's level gaze met hers.  "Just like Amanda Arkin."

"Exactly!  And--get this--Julie's roommate said she was talking about
getting an abortion."

"But why would she come all the way to Dallas?  Surely they have
similar clinics in Fort Worth."

"maybe she knew someone else who'd gone to that clinic.  Or maybe she
just wanted to get as far away from friends and family as she could,
who knows?  Anyway, I'm gonna get a look at those patient files if I
have to break in and steal them."

Tony gave her a thumbs-up.  "Awright, Care!  Sounds like the Terror is
back!"

Her face froze mid smile "Don't call me that.  I'll never be like that
again."

"Like what, an aggressive, no-holds-batted detective?"  "This work on
CAPERS eases is strictly temporary."  "For now," he said with a knowing
smile.  "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that I heard Captain Raines is holding his breath, hoping this
little taste of CAPERS will lure you back into his fold.  Four years is
a long time to punish yourself for something that wasn't your fault."

She grew very still.  "You know?  You know why I transferred to Missing
Persons?"

He shrugged.  "Well, yeah."

"Damn that Austin Lomax," she said, struggling not to shout the wordsl
"How dare he betray a confidence.  What'd he do, tell you in the men's
room?  Couldn't he keep it to himlf for even a day?  That son of a--"

"Whoa, whoa, Care.  What does Austin have to do with this?"  "Didn't he
tell you about Charlie Northeutt?"

"Hell, no.  I've known about you and Charlie Northcurt s'nice it
happened."

She felt the breath being sucked out of her lungs.  "You've known all
this time, and you never said anything?"

Tony looked confused.  "I figured if you wanted to talk about it, you
would."

"Does everyone know?"

"A few people put it together.  It didn't make its way around the
police grapevine, if that's What you're worried about."

Caro couldn't believe it.  All this time her friends had known about
Charlie North cuR and they'd all been tiptoeing around her, waiting for
her to snap out of it.  Well, she wasn't going to return to CAPERS.
Just because she was taking this temporary assignment very seriously
didn't mean she wanted to do it on a'permanent basis.

"You wouldn't want me to leave Missing Persons, would you?"  she asked,
trying to make the question sound light.  But suddenly his answer was
important to her.  Tony was just about her best friend.  "I mean, how
would you survive here without me?"

"I might get some of my own work done," he quipped, But then his grin
faded away, and he chewed on a ragged cuticle a few moments before
continuing.  "No, seriously, Cato.  I've been meaning to tell you this
for a while, but ... well, I've put in for a transfer to CAPERS
myself."

"You're kidding."  It was all she could think of to say.  She'd had her
quota of surprises for the day, and she just couldn't cope with this
one.

"It looks like I might get it, too."

"That's... that's great, Tony."

"You're not mad?  I know I should have told you sooner, but I guess I
didn't want to think too hard about transferring away from you.  We've
worked.  together a long time."

"Of course I'm not mad.  It'll be awful here without you, but that
shouldn't hold you back from something you really want to do."

"Thanks.  You know, Raines would take you over me in a second."

"You dont have to worry on that account."  She smiled, even though the
thought of coming to work every day without Tony siring at that desk
right in front of hers made her chest ache.  For four years he'd been
her anchor, her reality check, and he always gave her a smile when she
needed it most.  "You'll be good in CAPERS, Tony.  I hope you get
it."

He shrugged off her good wishes.  "Hey, you coming to my New Yeaifs Eve
party?"

"Oh, I dont know.  I can't seem to enjoy New Year's Eve.  All I can
think about is drunk drivers, and there's always two or three
homicides--"

"And you want to sit home brooding about it,

Caro, lighten up.  We'll expect you at eight.  Fran's counting on your
stuffed mushrooms.  And she might even have a man for you to meet."

Cato groaned.  "Look, I'll come, but no fix-ups.  How many times do I
have to tell you guys I'm perfectly happy without a man in my life?" An
image of Austin flashed briefly in her mind.

"Until you can say it and sound convincing," Tony said with a wink.

It was still dark when Austin pulled up in front of Caro's duplex the
next morning, but a corner street lamp illuminated the area like
daylight.  Her place looked almost exactly as he'd pictured--a small,
undistinguished house with a wide front porch and faded green shutters,
a postage-stamp yard that looked as'if no one had raked it all year.
Not as attractive as its neighbors, the house nonetheless appeared
sturdy, practical..

He opened the door of his Bronco, hoping Cato wasn't ready yet, that
she would come to the door flustered and not quite dressed, so she
would be forced to ask him inside while she finished up.  He was dying
to see what the inside of her house looked like.  But before he could
even get out of the car, the front door opened and she emerged.

If the house didn't surprise him, Caro herself did.  She was dressed
up, wearing a pencil-thin skirt and a clingy sweater under a wool
blazer.  Her hair, which she almost always wore in a single braid, was
swept into an elegant twist at the crown of her head, with several
curly tendrils framing her heart-shaped face.  And she was wearing
makeup.

"You look nice," he couldn't help saying the moment she was inside the
car.

"Yeah, well, dont expect to see me in heels too often.  I just thought
maybe a thin sheen of sophistication might impress the doc.  If he
thinks we're on his level, maybe he'll be more inclined to confide in
us."  She shrugged.  "It's probably dumb, but any little edge we can
get..."

"It can't hurt."  Hell, if this Dr.  Wayrickhad a hormone anywhere in
his body, he would be falling out of his chair to please Caro.  Any man
would.  Austin had always thought she was pretty, but today she was a
knockout.  And for a few, giddy moments, he'd thought she'd dressed
like that for him.

"Did you get in your three miles this morning?"  she asked, tilting her
head coquettishly.

"No.  Really, I only run two.  And I dont do it every day.  And I dont
always get up at four-thirty."

"My, my.  Confessions so early in the morning?"

"My conscience was bothering me.  I lied to impress yOU--very juvenile
of me."

She didn't ask why he'd want to impress her.  If she had, he might have
patiently plained that a man always feels the urge to impress the woman
he's interested in.  But it was probably just as well.  She might laugh
in his face.  He wouldn't put it past her.

"Did you check out those other adopted babies?"  be asked.

"Oh, yeah.  Nothing promising.  Justin Krill is still the best bet. 
Any more thoughts on that?"

"I can't get a search warrant for Beaman's records.  There's no
concrete evidence that Justin is Marcy's baby.  I mean, not that you
didn't do some good work, but you arrived at his name by process of
elimination after an anonymous phone call."

"I know.  But I still think there's'something to it.  I wish that woman
would call back."

"Yeah, me too."

They stopped at a diner on Knox Street for breakfast.  Predictably,
Cato ordered a bran muffin, fresh fruit and hot tea.  She didn't even
butter the muffin.  Austin had a Denver omelet.  Maybe he should think
about eating more healthy foods, he mused as he took a bite of hash
browns slathered with catsup.  He was thirty-five, and that wasn't all
that far from forty.  He glanced at Caro's dry-looking muffin, then
shook his head.  What was the fun in living to a ripe old age if you
had to eat that stuff?

Cato insisted on paying for her meal, even though this whole breakfast
thing had been Austin's idea.  Although he was annoyed, he couldn't
help but admire her independence.  He couldn't stand a clingy woman.

They'd talked little over breakfast, and they were quiet now as Austin
negotiated his way onto Central Expressway.  Bumper to bumper at 7:00
a.m. At this rate, Wayrick might beat' them to his office.

"Oh, Austin, I almost forgot," Cato said suddenly.  "Yesterday
afternoon I made a few phone calls to other police departments-just
following up a hunch, really--and I discovered something kind of
intriguing."

"Yeah?"  He felt a vague sense of unease, and he didn't know why.

"There's another missing pregnant girl, from Fort Worth."  "Yeah,
so?"

"Her ease sounds very familiar.  She was considering an abortion, she
disappeared without a word--and her parents received a letter in her
own handwriting assuring them she was fine, just like the letter Russ
Arkin received."

"Mrnm-hmm."

"Is that all you're going to say?  Don't you think it's odd?"  He
shrugged one shoulder.  "You think this gift ties in?  All the way from
Fort Worth?  C'mon, Cato.  I know you're anxious to get this thing
solved, and so am I, but you're taking shots--"

"--in the dark.  So I've been told.  It's worth checking OUt."  "Sure,
I guess," he said noncommittally.  "The subpoena only mentions records
related to Marcy and Amanda, though, so we can't legitimately demand
any information about this other girl."  He was deliberately giving her
lead short shrift, and it took him a few moments to figure out why.  It
was because he didn't like her taking initiative on this case.  He was
the lead detective.  She was supposed to be following his orders.
Someone had to be in charge or the investigation would bounce all Over
the place.  And yet, did it matter whose idea it was if results were
produced?  He had to admit, the possibility of tying a third girl into
the investigative soup was intriguing.

He deliberately changed the subject.  "A reporter from the "Morning
News' caught me walking to my car yesterday.  I told him we'd found the
father of Marcy' sbaby, but I didn't tell him who it was.  But was he
satisfied?  No wayl He had the gall to call me incompetent."

"He was just trying to bait you, hoping you'd reveal something really
juicy to salve your wounded pride."

"It almost worked, too.  I've never had to deal with the media
before."

"I did only once, after I'd finished an undercover assignment trying to
catch a serial rapist who was stalking women at this apartment complex.
We caught the guy when he went for another woman instead of me.  It was
embarrassing."

Austin paused before speaking again.  "You think we'll catch the guy
this time?"  He immediately wished he'd kept quiet.  He was letting his
insecurity show, and to the one person he most wanted to think he was
competent.

"As long as we're making progress, there's a good chance.  I tell
myself that, anyway."

Austin tried to let her words reassure him, but he knew he wouldn't
take another easy breath until they had a real suspect in both eases.

The sun was just breaking over the horizon as they arrived at the
Women's Services Clinic, an unprepossessing beige finder block
structure slightly set back from the road.  It was the kind of
building Austin normally wouldn't even notice.  He pulled into the
bumpy parking lot and wedged the Bronco between the only other two cars
in evidence, an old Ford Fiesta and an even older Toyota.  Austin
guessed that neither belong to the doctor.

He and Cam walked up to the front door, which was locked.  The office
hours were listed as eight until five, and it was only
seven-forty-five.  But by relentlessly banging on the glass, he
produced a middle-aged woman--possibly a nurse, possibly an office
worker dressed in white to appear reassuringly medical."  She was
scowling and pointing to her watch, mouthing something.  Austin opened
his shield and held it against the glass, whereupon the woman's face
immediately went blank.  She scurried to the door and opened it.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know you were police," she said breathlessly,
ushering them inside.  "Is there something I can help you with?"

Austin scrutinized the woman, whose name tag identified her as Nancy
Frieze.  She was nervous, as most ordinary citizens were in the
presence of police.  Too nervous?  "We'd like to see Dr.  Wayrick,"
Austin said.  "We were hoping to catch him early, so we wouldn't have
to interrupt his workday."  His busy, important work.

Austin felt slightly sick at the thought of what went on under this
roof, day in and day out.  He looked at the depressing waiting room,
the dingy furniture, the peeling linoleum floor, the brightly colored
paintings on the wall that tried to make the place more cheerful--and
failed miserably.  He would have to be dead and buried before he would
let any woman carrying his child set foot in a place like this.

"Dr.  Wayrick hasn't arrived just yet," Nancy Frieze said, scurrying
into her little cubicle of a reception area.  She ran her index finger
over a page in an appointment book.  "His first appointment is at nine,
but he usually gets here well before that.  Could I ask what this is
about?"

"It's a confidential matter," Austin replied, though he tried to keep
his tone friendly.  He might need the woman's cooperation later.

The phone rang and she answered it, immediately launching into what was
obviously a well-rehearsed spiel about exactly what services the
Women's Services Clinic offered.  Austin tried not to listen.

"What a depressing plaCe," Cam said softly as they found two chairs in
the waiting room.  "I can't believe poor little Mgrcy came here.  She
must have been terrified."

"I imagine she was terrified even before she came here.  It doesn't
sound like her parents did a very good job of preparing her for this
life."

At eight o'clock Nancy Frieze unlocked the front door.  Immediately two
black women entered, one in her teens, the other probably her mother.
They signed in at the desk, then settled as far from Austin and Cato as
possible, whispering to each other.

They probably believed Cato was a patient, Austin thought, and.  that
he was her boyfriend, ready to fork over hundreds of dollars rather
than take on the responsibility of a child.  He felt an.  immediate and
illogical protective instinct surging through his body.  He wanted to
announce to eve one who entered the clinic--and several more women
did--that Cato wasn't pregnant.  '

He was about to demand that Ms.  Frieze let them wait in the doctor's
office when she called them.  Dr.  Wayrick had arrived, presumably via
some back door, and was ready to see them.

Dr.  Thurman Wayrick wasn't at all what Austin had expected.  He was
tall, distinguished, with just a touch of gray at his temples.  Then
again, what was an abortionist supposed to look like, Boris Karloff?

The doctor smiled as he held out his hand and introduced himself.  "And
you are... ?"

"Detective Corporal Austin Lomax."

"Detective Corporal Carolyn Triece," Cato said, shaking his hand.  "We
dont want to waste any more of your time than necessary, so we'll get
right to the point.  We have two teenage girls--one missing and
presumed kidnapped, possibly dead by now, and one who was already found
dead, her baby missing.  They've both been connected to this clinic.
First we want to verify that they were patients here.  And then we want
to find out if the connection means anything."  Austin pulled the
subpoena from his jacket pocket and laid it on the doctor's desk.

Dr.  Wayrick's eyes widened.  "You think someone here is involved in
something criminal?  Kidnapping?  Murder?"

"Perhaps unknowingly," Austin clarified, not wanting to alarm the
doctor excessively.  He wanted Wayrick to be cooperative, not panicked.
"Someone who works here could be unwittingly providing the perpetrator
with information--names of patients, that sort of thing."

"Everyone who works here understands that our patient files are
confidential," Wayrick said, obviously outraged.  "If any sort of
information is leaving this office, it's either being stolen... or one
of my employees is in serious violation of medical ethics, not to
mention inviting a mammoth lawsuit.  I take it you're referring to the
Arkin girl.  Amanda Arkin--that's it, isn't it?"

Austin was surprised Wayrick had volunteered that information.  "Then
you can verify that she was a patient here?"

Wayrick looked over the subpoena before answering.  "Certainly.  When
her disappearance made the headlines, everyone hem was talking about
it.  We all remembered her--although I didn't actually perform any
procedure on her, you understand.  She came primarily for counseling,
as many of our patients do.  Despite what you might think, we do more
than just pregnancy terminations

"What about Marcy Phelps?"  Caro asked.  "Was she a patient also?"

Wayrick seemed to consider the question carefully.  "I can't recall the
name, but I'll have my office manager look in the files."  He started
to pick up the phone, but Austin stopped him.

"We'd prefer it if you didn't talk to anyone else on your staff about
this matter, at least for the moment."  He pulled Marcy's yearbook
photo out of his pocket and showed it to Wayrick.  "That's Marcy.  She
would have been here last June."

While he waited for a response, Austin held his breath.  What if
Scifert had gotten the name of the clinic wrong?  Austin had had to
prompt Ray's memory, he recalled.

Wayrick studied the photo, then sucked in his cheeks and looked up.
"Yes.  Yes, I remember this girl.  I believe I gave her an initial
exam, verifying her pregnancy.  I remember her because she wasn't
taking the news well.  I had to give her a sedative."

"Okay, now we're getting somewhere," Cato said.  "Can you give us a
list of current employees who also worked here during the time of
Marcy's visit?"

"That's not a problem.  WeSre a small staff here.  And three were hired
recently, so..."  He quickly wrote down the names Cato had requested.
They included another doctor, two nurses, Nancy Frieze and the staff
psychologist, Virginia Dreyfus.

"They're all good people, I assure you," Wayrick said.  "I can't
imagine any of them being involved in anything even remotely
underhanded."

Austin ignored the testimonial.  "Do you keep employment records here?
Sgecifieally, records of sick days and vacation days?"

"Yes, of course.  Unfortunately, that's one of the unpleasant little
tasks I do myself--writing the paychecks.  I have personnel files right
here," he said, rising and walking to a small filing cabinet in the
corner of the office.  "Can you check and see who was here on June 6?"
Austin asked.

Although it took a few minutes, Wayrick patiently went over paycheck
stubs for that period and all the accompanying paperwork.  And his
conclusion was that no one had missed work that day, the day Marcy
Phelps had disappeared.  And everyone was present and accounted for on
the day of Amanda's disappear anco, too.

Of course, Wayrick could be lying.  Austin didn't discount that
possibility.  The doctor seemed awfully eager to please.  Maybe too
eager.

Austin looked at Caro, hoping for a clue as to whether she thought he
was coming clean with them.  He remembered how astute she'd been in
catching Seifert's lies.  But she merely looked bored.  Deceptively
bored, Austin was sure.

He decided they should leave for now, regroup and discuss how to
proceed.  They advised Wayrick to keep their conversation confidential.
"If anyone asks, tell them your wife's car was broken into last night,
and we're following up on it."

"Yes, yes, I'll do that," he said with a conspiratorial smile.  He
seemed to be enjoying the cloak-and-dagger stuff.

"Oh, just one other thing," Cato said when they were almost out the
door.  She pulled a piece of paper out of her purse.  "I have one
additional name--Julie Yates.  And this is her picture.  Ring any
bells?"

Austin looked on impatiently as Wayrick examined the picture, which had
obviously been faxed to Cato yesterday.

Wayrick was no longer enjoying himself.  In fact, his face had gone
rather pale.  "Yes, this girl was also a patient.  Again, !  examined
her and verified her pregnancy, and as I recall we scheduled the
procedure, but she didn't show up.  That's not uncommon.  Don't tell me
something happened to her, too."

"Bingo," Caro said softly.

Chapter'll

Cam and AuStin spent another couple of hours questioning the clinic's
employees.  None of them were able to recollect anything of value.  The
only person who might have been able to shed some light on
things--Virginia Dreyfus, the psychologist--had the day off.  They
would have to catch up with her the following day.  Wayrick assured
them that, despite the fact that tomorrow was New Year's Eve, the
clinic would be open and Dr.  Dreyfus would be there.

"What are you waiting for?"  Austin asked the moment they were alone in
the car.  He jerked the Bronco into reverse, nearly stripping the gears
in the process, and roared out of the parking place while Cato was
still struggling with her seat belt.  "Aren't you going to say "I told
you so'?"

Caro's first instinct was to soothe the beast.  But on second thought,
she had done absolutely nothing deserving of anyone's anger, especially
Austin's.  "Aren't you going to say 'thank-you'?  "Good work, Cato'? 
Or are you so wrapped up in your ego that you can't acknowledge the
fact that my shot in the dark paid off?"

He took a deep breath.  "Just dear it with me next time you want to
take a stab at something on your own.  I want to know every thing
you're doing on this case at all times."

"Oh, yes, sir."

"Sarcasm doesn't become you."

"Machismo doesn't become you.  Lighten up, Lomax.  I informed you first
thing this morning.  If I'd asked you yesterday, you probably would
have said not to bother, and I never would have stumbled onto Julie
Yates."

He said nothing--probably because she was right and he was wrong and he
knew it, she thought uncharitably.  This was one of those times she
wanted to shake him.

A call on the cellular phone saved them from continuing the argument,
much to Caro's relief.  Austin wasn't the only one with a temper.

"Corporal Lomax," Austin said after clicking the phone open.  His face
immediately relaxed into an easy smile.  "Hey, Dean."  He looked at
Cato and added, "It's my brother."

His brother?  Austin had never mentioned his brother.  "Holy... any
details?"  Austin asked, instantly alert.  Then, after a pause, he
said, "Thanks, Dean, I appreciate it," and clicked the phone shut. Then
he hit the steering wheel with the heel of his hand.  "Damn!"

"Who's your brother?"  Cato asked.  "What did he say?"  "He works in
the DPs office," Austin answered distracteAly.  "He said Smith, Clovis
and Beaman has filed Chapter'll, and Travis Beaman reportedly has left
with his wife on an extended vacation to the Orient."

Caro's curse was a whole lot more colorful than Austin's.  "Do you
think Beaman flew the coop because of anything we did, or just to
escape creditors?"  she asked.

"Could be either, or both.  But why dont we pay a little visit to

Smith, Clovis etcetera and see if we can't shake something loose."
"Without a search warrant?"

"Maybe we can bluff or sweet-talk our way into those records.  Their
offices aren't far from the station.  It's worth a try."

"I'm game."  Privately, Cato thought Austin would have more luck with
sweet-talk than with intimidation--especially if it in-volred
convincing female secretaries to let him have his way.  That's how it
worked with her, anyway.  She found herself wanting to please him
whenever he turned on the charm.  But the moment he got bossy, her back
went up and she would purposely try to thwart him.

When they arrived at the law firm, everyone there seemed to be in a
state of shock.  The receptionist looked like a ghost who'd lost its
way back to the graveyard.  She offered no argument when Austin
demanded to see Beaman's secretary.  There was obviously little work
going on.  Every office they passed was either empty or contained
little clusters of people talking in hushed voices.

Beaman's secretary, an attractive older woman, appeared close to tears.
She was in the process of boxing up the contents of her desk.
Apparently Cato and Austin had arrived just in time.  "Where's your
boss?"  Austin asked.

"Oh, it's you again," said the secretary, whose nameplate iden-titled
her as Ms.  Paladin.  "To tell you the truth, I dont know where Mr.
Beaman is.  He didn't show up for work this morning."  "We heard he
left the country."

"And us holding the bag.  It wouldn't surprise me," she said wearily.
Abruptly she plopped into her desk chaie and put her face in her hands.
"What do you want?"

"I want to see a file.  Just one file.  A quick peek, and we'll be out
of your hair."

She looked up, her mouth firming in resolve.  "You must know,
Detective, that I can't let you look at confidential--"

"I can get a search warrant," Austin interrupted.  "Have you ever seen
what happens when the police are given free rein to search for
something as small as a file folder?  They turn drawers upside down.
And they aren't obligated to straighten things up when they're done,
either."

"That may be, but--"

"Corporal Triece, you stay here and make sure those files dont go
anywhere.  I'm going to get a warrant.  And, Ms.  Paladin, you might
consider what it would mean to your career to be named as an
accessory--"

"Oh, all right," the sretary said, clearly having reached the end of
her rol.  She actually sniffed back a few tears.  "I'll get you the
damn file, but not because of your silly threats.  I'm COOls rating
because I'd like to see Travis Beaman nailed.  What file are you
looking for?"

"Krill," Austin answered.  "Don and Chlo Krill.  An adoption."

Ms.  Paladin aplarexl confused.  "What dos that case have to do with
embezzlement?"

Oh, boy, Cato thought.  It looked as if Travis Beaman had Ns fingers in
more than one sour pie.

"Could you just get it, please?"

Ms.  Paladin shrugged, then them into a huge file room.  She went right
to the K's, and in moments produced a slim manila folder, which she
handed t Austin.

He laid it on a small table in the corner of the room, shoved his
glasses onto his face and scanned the contents greedily, with Cato
peering around his shoulder.

"Here it is," he said matter-of-fac fly though Caro knew he was
anything but.  "The biological mother's name is Patricia Smith, 4662
Fairfax.  Would you copy this page for us?"  he asked the secretary.

"No, I can't," she said, standing up straighter.  "I could get in
serious trouble for even letting you into this room.  If you return
with a search warrant, I'll be glad to hand over the file.  But the
movers are scheduled to come tomorrow and box up this whole room."

Caro was already writing down the name and address in a pad she kept in
her purse.

"I understand.  Thanks," Austin said to the secretary.  He gave her a
sympathetic smile, as if apologizing for his earlier, antagonistic
behavior.  "No one will ever know we were here."

Cato felt glum as they left the law firm.  "So I was wrong?"  she asked
when they were on the elevator.

"Maybe, maybe not.  Let's make one more stop before we go back to the
station."

"Let me guess, 4662 Fairfax?"

"You got it."

The 4600 block of Fairfax was in one of the more modest Highland Park
neighborhoods, but Cato guessed that, despite the unassuming little
houses and small front yards, some of these properties were valued at
more than a quarter million dollars.

"What are you going to say to these people?"  Cato asked.  "You can't
just bang on the door and ask if their daughter had a baby out of
wedlock."

"Sure I can.  You're too polite, Cato.  But, actually, I dont think
I'll have to say anything."  He slowed the car down.  "There's 4652,
4658... Ha!  And 4664.  There is no 4662."

Adrenaline surged through Caro's body.  "Hot damn!  I'll bet there's no
Patricia Smith, either."

They parked the car and knocked on a couple of doors and asked the
people who answered if they knew of any Smiths who lived in the
immediate neighborhood, just to be sure.  But no one had heard of
Patricia Smith.

"Now what?"  Cato asked, although she knew what she wanted to do.

Austin smiled wickedly.  "Let's pay a call on Chloe Krill."

"I was hoping you'd say that."  They were closing in for the kill, and
it felt good.

Although the Krills' neighborhood was less than a five-minute drive
away, it was much more grand.  The houses here could rightfully be
called "estates."  The It, rill house in particular was one of

the most opulent, a huge but stylish English Tudor with mullioned
windows and beautifully aged red brick.  No one answered the door.

An old man was raking leaves from the lawn next door.  While Austin
walked around to the hack of the house to see if there were any signs
of life, Cato approached the neighbor.  "Excuse me, but do you know
where the Krills might he?"

The old man eyed her suspiciously, then shook his head.  "No, I'm
sorry."

She took her badge out of her jacket pocket and held it out for his
inspection.  "It's very important that we get in contact with them,"
she said.  "Would you have any idea where they might be?"

"Oh, police, huh?  Well, uh, I haven't seen 'era around in a day or
two.  Since Don has family up north some place, they might be visiting
for the New Year's holiday.  That'd he my guess,.  yes, ma'am."

Cato handed him.  her business card.  "Would you call me when they come
back?  I mean, if you see their cars, or you see anyone moving around
at the house."

"Yes, ma'am, certainly.  What's this all about?"

"It's a private matter," she replied.

Austin returned, shaking his head to indicate he hadn't found anything
useful.  Cato thanked the neighbor for his help, and she and Austin
climbed back into the car.

Caro let out a great sigh.  "The next-door neighbor says they're out of
town.  Maybe I shouldn't have flashed my badge at him.  He'll probably
run right to the Krills the moment they come home."

"If they come home.  For all we know, they left the country with their
buddy Travis Beaman.  "If they're afraid someone might challenge their
right to keep the baby..."

"I sure as hell hope they didn't skip town."  Her mood was fluctuating
from adrenaline-charged elation to despair from minute to minute.

"We'll put the house under surveillance," Austin said.

"Can we do that?"

"I think Raines'll go for it.  Something big is going on.  All the
evidence points to it.  We dont have it strung together yet, but any
fool could look at all the little trees we've collected and see a
forest.  Three girls, all patients at the same clinic, all missing, one
found dead, her baby gone..."

"A crooked lawyer who's falsifying legal documents, an anonymous phone
call..."  Caro added.  "Is it enough?  If've could definitely tie
Beaman or the Krills to Marcy Phelps..."

"It's enough."

"In that case..."  Care draw a deep breath.  "Is it time to bring in
SIU?"  The Special Investigations Unit was a group of detectives within
CAPERS that specialized in handling high-profile cases--serial
killings, police shootings or any investigation that required lots of
manpower and money.

Austin made a face.  "Surely you jest."

"I'm not wild about the idea, but multiple kidnappings and stolen
babies and black-market adoptions are right up SIU's alley."

"Kidnappings?  Maybe those girls disappeared voluntarily.  We dont have
any ransom notes, no hard evidence of foul plgy--" "What about Amanda's
car?"

"In the letter she explained that she'd abandoned it."

"Wiped clean of fingerprints?  What about the fingernail and the
blood?"

"Women break fingernails all the time.  And 'the blood was microscopic.
As for the fingerprints, that guy the joyriders saw was probably a car
thief who lost his nerve, unconnected to Amanda.  The way I see it,
someone at the clinic could be influencing these girls, convincing them
to go off someplace and have their babies in peace.  Nothing illegal
about that."

Care was disturbed by his attitude.  "Austin, you dont really believe
that, do you?"

"No.  I'm just trying to show you that we have some leeway as far as
handing this over to SIU.  We're making good progress on our own.  Why
spoil it?"

"We let Travis Beaman get away from us."

"Then we'll just have to catch up with the Krills.  They know as much
as their lawyer."

"Maybe."

"Do you want to call in Special Investigations?"

"I dont know.  I just dont want to screw something up and get Amanda
Arkin or Julie Yates killed."

"Like the SIU has never screwed anything up."

True enough, Care conceded silently.

"Let's see what we can accomplish over the weekend," Austin said.
"Monday we can call a meeting with Chief Raines and let him make the
decision."

"All right," Care agreed.  If the truth be known, she wasn't quite
ready to let go of this case.  And that worried her.

Since Amanda wasn't as far along in her pregnancy as most of the girls
at the Good Shepherd Home, she'd been drafted along with a couple of
others to rake leaves in the front yard.  She.  would have enjoyed the
exercise, except for the bitter north wind that had started to blow.
The thin jacket Odell had given her offered little protection.  She
wondered what had happened to the nice winter coat she'd been wearing
when she'd been kidnapped.

Henry was watching from the front porch with Phoebe the bloodhound at
his side.  Amanda could feel his eyes on her.  She could sense their
predatory gleam; she had deliberately interested him in her as a woman,
and he was responding: The prospect of taking her flirtation any
further filled her with revulsion, and yet she knew Henry might be her
only salvation.

And she didn't have much time to lose.  She was worried about

Terri, who had spent the last couple of days in her room in bed.

Amanda had seen her only once, "when their paths had crossed in the
bathroom, and Terri had looked pale and drawn.

Via the water pipe and Morse code, Terri had assured Amanda that she
still had more than a month before her baby was due.  But as big as
Terri was, it wouldn't be surprising if she went into labor any minute.
They had to get help before that baby was born... before Odell sold the
baby and something awful happened to the mother.

When Amanda had accumulated a huge pile of leaves, Henry appeared with
a bushel basket.  "Here, put the an in here," he said.

"Then take them arounl to the back and dump them in the compost cage."
In a lower voice, be added, "Odell says you have to stay."

"You talked to her?"  Amanda was surprised Henry had found the courage
to confront his aunt.  He was obviously devoted to her,

but he was also a bit afraid of her--understandably.

Henry nodded.  "She says it's too late for you to repent."

"The Ble says it's never too lal.  God will always forgive those who
are truly sorry for their sins.  Remember the story of the

Prodigal Son?"

Henry nodded uncertainly.  "Yeah, I remember.  C'mon,

Amanda, keep working.  Heather and Mary are way ahead of you.

And, anyway, Aunt Odell says I shouldn't listen to you just be cause
you're different from the other girls."

Amanda made a show of piling leaves into her basket and stomping them
down.  "I understand why Odell feels the way she does," she said.  "She
has to be firm.  She can't bend the rules for me or the other girls
might give her trouble."

"That's right," Henry said.

"But that doesn't mean you couldn't help me."  She picked up her basket
and followed the other girls around the side of the house, where a
locked gate prevented them from continuing.

Henry unlocked the gate and ushered them through--all but Amanda.  He
held her back.  "How could I help?"

"You could let me out.  You can unlock anything around here," she said,
pointing to the wad of keys hanging from his belt.  "The next time
Odell leaves, you could unlock the front gate.  And then ... and then I
could meet you somewhere," she continued hurriedly.  "If you helped me,
Henry, you'd be my friend for life.  Maybe even more than a friend."
Careful that the other girls didn't observe her, she squeezed his hand.
Then she grabbed the basket and headed for the compost cage.  Let him
chew on that awhile.

She made two more trips to the compost heap, her bushel basket piled
high with crispy brown leaves.  Henry helped the other two girls, so it
wouldn't appear that he was playing favorites, but he continued to
watch Amanda at every opportunity.

When the chore was done to Henry's satisfaction, he ordered them all to
return the rakes and baskets to the toolshed, then to go inside and
wash up for supper.  Amanda lingered behind, hoping for a response from
Henry, but all he said to her was, "Hurry up, you dont want to be late
for supper.  Roast beef and mashed potatoes-and no green beans."

Amanda smiled and headed for the bathroom.  She SUpposed everyone here
would remember her for the fit she threw over eating green beans.

She was beginning to think Henry was going to ignore her outrageous
request.  He studiously avoided her gaze during dinner, and when it
came to passing around pumpkin pie for dessert, the slice he gave her
was the same size as everyone else's.

It was only later, when all the girls had been locked into their rooms
for the night and the old house was settling down with its customary
creaks and groans, that Amanda heard a soft knock.  She climbed out of
bed and tiptoed to the door.  "Who's there?"  "It's Henry.  Can I come
in?"

It seemed ludicrous that he would ask permission.  After all, he was
the one with the key, and no one's privacy had ever been respected in
this house that she was aware of.  "Yes, of course," she responded. She
glanced at the exposed pipes in the corner, hoping Terri didn't pick
now to start clanging out a message.

The deadbolt scraped and the door opened.  And then he was standing in
the darkened room.  She couldn't see him but she could sense his
presence looming above her.  And she could smell him.  He always
smelled faintly of something that reminded Amanda of a petting zoo. She
quickly turned on the light.

He closed the door quietly behind him.  "I've thought about it, and I
can't do what you want me to, Amanda," he said.  "I can't go against
Aunt Odell like that.  And even if I could, she would know what I'd
done.  And she'd be mad, real mad.  She would hate me.  '

"Oh, no," Amanda said, as if this would be a real tragedy.  For Henry,
she supposed it would be.  Odell seemed.  to be the only person in his
life.  Not that she showed him any love that Amanda could discern.  But
she did give him approval, and that was very important to Henry.

"Aunt Odell raised me," he said.  "My... my mother and father didn't
want me."

"I'm so sorry," Amanda said.  "Of course.  I wouldn't want yOU

to make Odell mad.  She's been good to you, hasn't she?"  Henry nodded.
"All right, then, what if you could help me without Odcll ever finding
out?  Would you do it?"

"I dont know," he said sullenly.  "Would I have to lie?"  "No," she
assured him.  "All you have to do is loosen the bars on my window, and
then dig a little hole under the fence--behind the toolshed, where
nobody can see.  No one will ever know you helped me escape.  And after
I'm out, I'll get a little apartment somewhere not too far.  And you
can come see me."

He remained silent, but his face worked furiously as he considered her
suggestion.  Suddenly he smiled.  "I could bring you a cherry pie," he
said, buying into the fantasy.  "You could eat the whole thing
yourself, and not have to share it with nobody."

"Mmm, that would be wonderful.  And you would have a friend, someone
besides Odell.  I know she's a good lady, but dont you sometimes wish
you had someone closer to your age?  I'll still need you, Henry.  If
I'm going to start a new life, I'll need a friend."  She touched him
then, letting her hand glide up his arm to his shoulder.

He stood very still, neither responding to her touch nor moving away
from it.  She stood on her toes and moved her hand to his neck, gently
guiding his head down toward her upturned face.  She closed her eyes
and called up a vivid image of Scott.  If she could just pretend it was
Scott she was kissing, maybe she wouldn't give herself away by
retching..

Their lips met clumsily, and at first nothing happenS.  Henry stood so
still, Amanda might have been kissing a statue, and she wondered if he
didn't know how to respond.  Maybe Odcll had so sheltered him that he
didn't understand about man-woman things, except in the abstract.  Then
all at once he came to life, like an unconscious man who'd ben doused
with water.  He thre his arms around her and pressed his mouth against
hers, the kiss hard and wet and utterly repulsive.

She didn't know how long she would be able to stand it.  She had to
fight every instinct to keep from pushing him away and crying out in
disgust.  But she managed to give some semblance of enthusiasm-until he
grabbed her breast.

Instantly she pulled away.  "No, no, we can't do that, Henry," she
said, calling upon every ounce of her acting ability so that she
sounded excited and regretful that they couldn't go further.

"Why not?"  Henry asked, breathing heavily.  But he had stopld pawing
her.

"It's wrong."

"You let your boyfriend touch you," he said almost spitefully.

"But I was a sinner then," she said, hanging her head.  "I know better
than that now.  I've changed."

"You're a $ zbel," Henry said, apparently having his own cache of Bible
stories to draw from.  With Odell having raised him, he would ai most
have to know the Bible.

"I'm not," Amanda insisted.  "I've changed."

He touched the side of her face.  "Come on, Amanda.  It me touch you.
Isn't that what you want?"

"I do want it," she agreed, narly choking on the words.  "But it's
wrong."

"I'll help you escal.  If you take off your clothes and let me touch
you, I'll help you get out of hem.  You'll be abl to keep your baby."

She was almost tempted.  She would do just about anything to get out of
this place.  But she decided right then and there that she would rather
die than submit herself to sex with Henry.

She didn't have to work very hard to summon Irars.  "I want to keep my
baby more than anything in the world.  But I won't sin with you.  And
I'm very disappointed that you would ask that of me.  I thought you
were my friend."

"I'm sorry, Amanda," he said, immediately contrite.  "But I had to
know.  I had to be sure you'd really changed, that you."d really
repented."  He touched her hair with infinite tenderness, and for a
split second Amanda actUally felt guilty for manipulating him.  "I knew
you were different," he said.  "I just knew it.  Aunt Odell is right
about almost everything, but she's wrong about you.  I'll help you
leave here."

Amanda's heart hammered relentlessly inside her chest.  He'd been
trying to trick her, and she'd almost fallen for it!  Thank God he was
so repugnant, or she might have taken him up on his offer.  "Thank you,
Henry," she said..

"It's no good about those bars, though.  They can't be taken
off--they're too strong.  I'll have to think of something else."  He
kissed her cheek before leaving.

Amanda lay on her cot, but she couldn't sleep.  If she depended on
Henry to come up with an escape plan, she might be waiting a long time.
She would have to devise another plan herself.

Chapter 12

It was bad enough to have to work on New Year's Eve, Xrlrginia Dreyfus
thought, trying to quell the panic building up inside her.  But it was
much worse to get to work and find two police detectives waiting for
her.

The moment Virginia had walked through the front door, Nancy Frieze had
informed her that corporals Lomax and Tfiece were in her office.  "They
talked with the rest of us yesterday," Nancy said self-importantly.  "I
would have warned you about this, but they asked us not to talk about
it, so..."

Yeah, fight, Virginia thought.  That would be the day when Nancy Frieze
called her at home to do her a favor.

"They're really very nice," Nancy said.  "You dont have to be afraid?"
'

"What about the patients' confidentiality?"  V'uginia asked.  "Oh, the
detectives have a subpoena, all nice and legal.  Dr.  Waytick said we
could tell them anything they wanted to know about... well, you'll find
out."

As she headed for her office, xrtrginia wondered if the detectives
would want to look at her notes, or if they would take her word for
what went on during counseling sessions.  At least her notes were in
her own brand of shorthand.  No outsider would be able to decipher them
easily.

What did they already know?  she asked herself.  She was tempted to
spill everything.  The stress of the last few days, wondering,

waiting for someone to make accusations, had taken its to11.  She
wished to God she'd never heard of Odell and her nasty little maternity
home.  She would give back all the money Odell had paid her--with
interest--if only she could forget this whole thing.

Before rounding the corner and entering her office, she took several
deep breaths and tried to imagine how she would act if she had nothing
to hide.  She would feel inconvenienced, perhaps, but she would want to
do her civic duty.  Yes, she would have to be cooperative, but not too
friendly.

She wiped her palms on her wool skirt and walked crisply toward
whatever fate awaited her.  "Good morning, I'm Virginia Dreyfus," she
said, quickly taking in her two visitors.  "I understand you want to
speak with me?"

The man stood and introduced himself and his lady colleague, shaking
Virginia's hand.  He smiled, which reassured her somewhat.  "We'll try
not to take up too much of your time."

She nodded as she sized up her opponents.  She remembered the woman
from her previous visit, when Amanda Arkin had first disappeared.
Virginia would have thought the corporal too young to be anyone
official, except for those eyes.  There was a certain toughness
reflected in their hazel depths; those eyes had seen a lot.

Virginia recalled how short-tempered she'd been with Carolyn Trieee
during their first interview.  She wished now she had been more
generous with her information.  As it was, she could expect no sympathy
from Corporal Triece's corner.  Those hard eyes showed no signs of
softening.

The man was young, too, but he seemed more affable than his partner.
Yeah, she figured she could handle these two.  After all, she knew a
thing or two about the interviewing process.  She did it every day for
a living--reading between the lines, watching body language and
listening to voice intonation.

For once she was glad of how shabby her office was.  Maybe it would
engender sympathy.  Rather than moving behind her desk, she chose a
chair near the small sofa where the detectives had set-fled.  It seemed
less adversarial that way.

"I suppose you know what we want to talk to you about," Corporal Lomax
said as he set a small tape recorder on the table a few feet from her.
He pulled a pair of glasses from his jacket pocket and put them on.

"Well, I assume this is about Amanda Arkin."

Lomax nodded and pulled out a notebook from his breast pocket.  He
appeared relaxed, but Virginia wasn't fooled.  It was all an act.
"Amanda Arkin was at or near the Women's Services Clinic at the time of
her abduction."

"Oh, then she really was kidnapped?"

"We have reason to believe she didn't disappear of her own accord.  We
found her car.  Inside it were signs of a struggle."  Virginia didn't
have to fake her horror.  Lately she had avoided reading the papers or
watching the news, perhaps subconsciously unwilling to know any more
about Amanda Arkin's disappear-anco.  "I'm truly sorry.  She seemed
lila nicgirl.  But I dont know how I can help.  I told Corporal, uh..."
 She looked helplessly at the other woman.

"Yes, of course.  I told her everything of relevance.  I even went over
my notes afterward just to be sure, but..."  She shrugged.

Lomax referred to his own notes.  "You told Corporal Triec that Amanda
was 'far from calm and rational."  What led you to believe that?"

"Years of experience counseling disturbed young women.  She was close
to tears much of the time we talked, and she did a lot of fidgeting.
I'm sure in your line of work you recogniz the signs of distress as
easily as I do."  She could only hope they weren't as adept at spotting
lies, beeause she'd just told one.  Amanda had conducted herself in a
calm, deliberate manner during their counseling session.

"She was distressed about the pregnancy?"

"Why, yes, what else?"

"You didn't get the idea she might be upset about something else?
Afraid of someone?"

"No, not at all.  Lots of young women who find themselves unexpectedly
pregnant are afraid of how their boyfriends will react, but Amanda had
already told the father of her baby, and she gave me the impression
that he was being very supportive."

Lomax nodded.  "So there was nothing at all unusual in her demeanor the
last time you saw her?"

"I saw her only the one time, so I have nothing with which to compare
her behavior, but she seemed to me to be just like the dozens of other
young women who get themselves into trouble."  Virginia sighed
hopelessly.

"Okay.  I want you to go back to Wednesday, December 21.  Amanda had
made an appointment with you for additional counseling, correct?"

"Yes, but she didn't show."

"Did you think that unusual?"

"Not at all.  It happens all the time.  I had our receptionist phone
Amanda's home, but she didn't get an answer.  Then I put it out of my
mind."

"Were you in the office all day that day?"

"I believe so.  I usually eat lunch at my desk, and I dont recall
having left for any reason, so, yes, I'm sure I was here all day."  She
nodded for emphasis, thanking her stars that at least she had an alibi
for the time Amanda disappeared.

"I see that your office has a window facing out to the parking lot.
What can you recall seeing out your window that day?"

"Nothing," she answered with certainty.  "My view isn't what you would
call picturesque.  I leave the drapes drawn all the time, especially in
the morning when the east sun shines in that window.  I dont pay any
attention to the goings-on in the parking lot."

"Could you have heard anything unusual that day?  Loud voices, ear
horns, anything like that?"

She shook her head helplessly.  "No, I'm sorry."

"All right."

Virginia allowed herself a quiet sigh of relief.  Perhaps this ordeal
was almost over.  And' she'd done splendidly, even if she did say so
herself--just the right amount of concern, mixed with consternation and
a tiny bit of impatience.

"Let's forget Amanda Arkin for the moment.  I want to show you another
girl's picture."  From the back of his notebook he pulled a color photo
and laid it on the table.  Virginia had to lean over to look at it, but
it took her only a moment to realize the picture was of Marcy Phelps.

Dear God, they'd connected Marcy to the eli hie Her mental pat on the
back had been premature, Virginia realized.  Whatever composure she'd
been maintaining abruptly fled.

"She looks familiar to me," VLrginia said with a barely discernible
tremble to her voice, "but I'm not sure."

"Her haree's Marcy Phelps."

Virginia put a hand to her breast.  "Oh, the little girl who was found
dead in, that lake?  I remember reading about it in the paper, trot...
aia she... was she a patient at the clinic?"

"You tell me."

"Honestly, I dont know.  She looks familiar, but that might be because
I saw her picture in the paper or on TV.  I see up to eight patients a
day, and I dont always remember them."  Oh, God, oh, God, she thought
in despair.  He knows I'm lying.  She could feel dampness forming under
her arms and at the back of her neck.  She only hoped the detectives
wouldn't notice if beads 'of sweat started popping up on her
forehead.

"Marcy would have been to the clinic in June.  I know that's a long
time ago, but please try to remember--"

"I'm sorry, I really can't tell you for sure."

"Do you see all of the clinic's patients?"

"Most of them.  The doctors strongly encourage counseling he-fore a
pregnancy termination, and most of the young women take that advice."

"Then you probably would have seen Marcy."

"If she was a patient at the clinic."

"She was impgnated by her older sister's boyfriend.  Does that story
ring a hell?"

Virginia shook her head apologetically.

"Are you sure?"

"In my line of work nothing shocks me.  No one story is more memorable
than the next.  I dont dwell on them, or my own mental health might he
at risk."

"All right.  I have just one more picture to show you .... "He produced
another photograph.  Virginia immediately recognized the girl. Although
the name escaped her, the girl was another of Odell's recruits.  In a
split second, Virginia decided not to lie again. Telling as much of the
truth as she could would he easier.

"Yes, I renemher this girl, although not her name.  Don't tell me she's
missing, too."

"For more than three months."

Virginia could feel the blood draining from her face as she accepted
the realization that all three girls she had referred to Odell were
missing or dead.  Odell wasn't merely lurirg girls to her home with
propaganda.  She was taking them by force.

"Mamy Phelps was missing since June?"  Xrirginia had to ask, for her
own peace of mind.  She remembered the story Odell had told about Marcy
running away from the home and how Oddl had worked with Marcy's parents
to locate the girl, to no avail.

Lomax raised one eyebrow, the only indication that Virginia's abrupt
question surprised him.  "The last anyone saw of her was June 6."

Odell had lied.  And if she'd lied about Marcy running away, she could
he lying about everything.  She could he the one who threw Marcy's body
off the dam, trying to make it look like suicide.  And she could, right
now, have Marcy's missing baby.

Virginia tried to school the horror out of her expression as she asked
one last question.  "I thought she was in a maternity home."

The corporal's attention was now riveted totally on Virginia.  Any
semblance of casualness was gone.  "Why did you think that?"

"Oh, I just thought I read it in the paper.  But I must have it mixed
up with some other story."

Lomax took off his glasses and stared at her.  And stared some more.

Virginia cleared her throat.  "Is that all?"

"No, that's not all, Dr.  Dreyfus."  He turned to Corporal Trie.  "Mayb
we should take her down to the station."

Virginia was near panic.  Should she play innocent and demand to know
what he was talking about?  Ask to call her lawyer?  Or.  simply refuse
to cooperate?  She knv they couldn't angst her without a warrant.  But
could they get a warrant if they wanxi to?  "I dont understand," she
said.  "Have I said something wrong?"

His silent sram scared her more than any accusation could have.  He
knew she wasn't telling the truth.  Them was no doubt in her mind.
Perhaps n now he thought she was guilty of hurting those girls.

Mayb she was; if not directly guilty, then she'd certaiuly been an
unwitting accomplice.

Suddenly the enormity of what she'd done hit her square in the chest.
She'd as good as sent Marcy Phelps to her grave.  And who knw what
horrible things those two other girls were an during--if they were even
alive?  No, they had to be alive, Virgima thought, consoling herself.
Odell wanted their babies.

"Why dont you tell us exactly what you remember about a maternity
home?"

V'uginia knew that the next few words she spoke would determine whether
they would detain her or let her go.  And abruptly the decision as to
what to say came easily.  She'd done nothing criminal.  Unethical, yes,
but she hadn't yet eros seA that line that would send her to prison.
And she didn't intend to start now.

"There's a woman named Odell," she began.  And the words spilled out of
her.  She told them everything--about the referrals and the money she'd
received, the details of how she contacted Odell and vice versa,
Odell's repeated assurances that she took good care of "her girls" and
how she carefully screened all prospective adoptive parents.

"I didn't see the harm in expos' rag those young women to some pro-life
literature," she said.  "I'm not necessarily pro-choice myself.  I work
at the clinic because that's where I could find work.  If I'd had any
idea what was really happening..."  She had o swallow hard to dislodge
the lump in her throat.

"What did you think when you heard about Marcy Phelps disappearing?"
Lomax asked.

"The first I read anything about Marcy Phelps was when her body was
identified.  I dont remember when she disappeared.  I dont always read
the paper, and I ai most never watch elevisiom"

"And what about when you heard of Amanda's:: disappearance?"

"I thought it an odd coincidence that two of the girls I'd referred to
Odell had come back to haunt me in the same week.  I even called Odell
and asked her about Amanda, but she claimed that Amanda wasn't
receptive to her attempts to get her to come to the maternity home, and
I believed her.  She's very persuasive."

"But you dont know this mysterious woman's last name, or where she
lives, or where the home is," Lomax asked, one eyebrow lifted
skeptically.

"No.  She struck me as slightly paranoid about remaining anonymous, and
now I can understand why.  But I didn't push her, especially when she
proved to be reliable about paying me just as she said she would."

"How did the payments come?"  Corporal Trieee asked, looking suddenly
alert.  It was the first she'd participated in the questioning.

"Cash, through the mail."

"Postmark?  Return address?"

"No return address.  I was curious, though, and I did check the
postmarks.  They were all from Dallas except one, which was from...
Tyler, I think it was."

The two detectives exchanged a glance.  Did Tyler mean something, she
wondered?

They kept after her for what seemed like hours, going over and over the
same questions.  Vkginia answered each query patiently and thoroughly,
and as the interview wore on she sensed the two detectives growing less
antagonistic toward her.  She hoped that meant they believed her.

At some point it occurred to her that she should have called her
lawyer, but she supposed by then it didn't matter.  If she was going to
incriminate herself, she'd probably already done it.  The important
thing now was to cooperate in finding those missing girls.  That was
the only way she could possibly avoid being dragged down with Odell.

"Not in?  When will he be back?"  Odell asked the unidentified woman
who had answered the phone.  Even on Saturday--even on New Year's
Eve--there were always workaholics on hand at the law firm, and Travis
was usually one of them.

"That's hard to say.  He's out of the country."

"Out of the... Don't be ridiculous," Odell snapped.  "This is his
sister.  If he'd left the country, dont you think I'd know it?"

"Apparently not."

"Look, I'm not one of his creditors.  I'm his Sister, Ode[h and I
demand that you put him on the phone."

"He's not in," the woman repeated without an ounce of civility in her
voice.  "You might try Tokyo."  With that she hung up.

Odell couldn't believe this was happening.  She tried calling Travis at
home, but she got no answer there.  She knew his financial situation
was pretty grim, but could it possibly be so bad that he'd skipped the
country?  Without talking to her about it.  Or--and this possibility
filled her with dread--had the authorities found more concrete evidence
regarding the illegal adoptions Surely, if that were the case, Travis
would have warned her.

Then again, her brother wasn't in' the habit of consulting her about
his activities.  He usually didn't think any further than looking after
his own precious skin.  In fact, although he professed to want to atone
for the sins of their childhood, Odell suspected his main motivation
for becoming involved in her plans was money.

She sat down at her desk and put her head in her hands.  Things were
falling apart.  One of the girls, Heather, had miscarried last night.
That meant Odell would soon have another vacancy.  Then, this morning,
Odell had read in the paper that the police had located the father of
Marcy Phelps's baby.  That meant they were one step closer to
connecting Marcy with the Women's Senrices Clinic.

Odell had made a drastic mistake in taking Amanda Arkin from the clinic
parking lot.  She had focused police attention on the clinic, and that
might yet prove to be her undoing.  She'd always known that someday she
would overlook some detail and the authorities would catch up with her.
But she hadn't thought it would be so soon.

Still, she wasn't undone yet, she thought as a sudden burst of
resilience surged through her.  She was doing God's work, and He would
protect her.  Without Travis and the money his adoptions brought in,
she would have a hard time of it, but she still had some financial re,
ryes If she had to, she could abandon (be babies on doorsteps, like
they used to in the olden days.  With the huge demand for healthy white
babies, she knew the infants would be well provided for.

She decided it was time to step up her activities.  She would bring as
many girls into the home as she safely could.  Even if she couldn't
deliver all of the babies before everything came Crashing down, at
least the Good Shepherd Maternity Home would be filled with girls too
far along to have abortions.  Her goal of savin thirty-four babies--the
exact number she had helped kill--seemed far away.

She would have to take some extra precautions regarding her contact
with Virginia and the Women's Services Clinic, she decided.  She
wouldn't make any more calls from her cellular phone.  Although it
would be an inconvenience, she would have to use pay phones from now
on.

She considered dropping Virginia altogether.  The woman had been a
nuisance lately, asking nosy questions.  But Virginia had been Ode!l's
best source.  The psychologist had a knack for picking out the girls
who would make the best residents for the home--like Amanda and Marcy,
God rest her soul.  No, there was no sense in giving up on V'uginia,
not yet.  Odell would just have to be on her guard.

She smelled the unmistakably delectable odor of pot roast coming from
the kitchen and realized that she'd been moping here in her office for
a long time.  Henry probably could use some help with dinner, although
apparently he had things well in hand.  Sometimes it amazed her that he
could cope so well with his diminished mental capacity.  He had proved
himself invaluable lately, finally settling into his role guarding the
girls.  She'd been afraid he would take his authority too much to
heart, but he seemed to be just stern enough to intimidate, yet never
cruel for cmelty's sake.  She was lucky to have him, for she could
never have managed this place alone.  Henry was a good boy, for all his
peculiarities.

Care was exhausted, mentally, physically, and emotionally.  She
couldn't remember ever working on any case that had wrong her out the
way this one did.  She'd been elated by the information Virginia
Dreyfus had revealed, but disappointed that the psychologist couldn't
lead them immediately to this Odell character.  Still, it had seemed'a
simple-enough task to track Odell down through the answering
service--then not so simple after all.

"Any luck?"  Austin asked hopefully, looking up as Cam approached his
desk.  He'd sent her to check out Wanda's Answering Service, the outfit
through which Virginia and Odell kept in touch.

"You won't believe this," Cam Said wearily as she snagged a nearby
chair and plopped down in it.  "Odell is anything but stupid.  She
deliberately chose a real rinky-dink operation for an answering
service.  Wanda runs the business out of her spare bedroom.  Odell pays
her in cash, in advance, by mad.  She didn't fill out any forms, so
there's no address or phone number on record.  She calls in every few
days for messages.  That's the only contact Wanda has with her."

"But the phone company has put a trace on the line, right

"Oh, yes.  Wanda was most anxious to help, and she says she'll let us
know the minute Odell calls in."

"Then we've got her."

"But how long will that take?"  An unchamcteristic frustration welled
up inside Cato.  "Damn it, I was set to move in.  Every day the case
drags on is another day those girls are held against their will."

"But they're alive.  Until we talked to Virginia, I wasn't holding out
much hope.  But if Odell is really a rabid pro-lifer, she'll keep those
girls alive at least until the babies are born.  That gives us plenty
of time."

"Unless Xrrginia war us Odell and she slips away."

"Virginia's too afraid of us.  She knows damn well we could arrest her
at any time for obstruction of justice.  She even signed a statement
attesting to the fact that she'd deliberately misled the police to
cover up her unethical conduct."

"And you still think it's best not to get a warrant right now?"

"If we'd arrested her, her lawyer would have had her out in a matter of
hours, anyway.  We might need her cooperation."

"Yeah, I guess you're fight."  Caro sat up straighter and tunneled her
fingers through her wind-tangled hair, pushing it off her face.  "We've
made remarkable progress today.  I should he pleased, I suppose. What's
that you're doing?"  Austin had a Texas map spread out on his desk.

"See for yourself.  Remember the first time we talked about a possible
connection between the Arkin and Phelps cases?"  "And we dismissed it
then as too farfetched."

"But remember how we plotted points on the map?  Marcy's body was found
at the Cedar Creek spillway."  He pointed to a red dot he'd made on the
maP.  "Amanda's car was found in Taryton.  Amanda's letter was
postmarked from Kips Point."  More red dots.  "One of Virginia's
payments was postmarked from Tyler.  I also just received word this
afternoon that the Taryton police located a trucker who remembers
picking up a hitchhiker close to Taryton the night Amanda's car was
abandoned.  His description matches the one Chucky gave you for the car
thief.  The hitchhiker asked to be let off here, near a town called
Caney--which, incidentally, isn't all that far from River Rock."  He
made two more red dots.

"River Rock--where Justin Krill was born."  Caro studied the
pattern--and there definitely was one.  The dots Were grouped in an
area south and east of Dallas.  Unfortunately, the pattern was far from
tight.  "That's about a four-hundred square-mile area.  I dont think
we're ready to search with dogs and helicopters just yet."

"Pessimist."  Austin reached out and flipped a strand of hair off her
face.  "It's a start."

Her whole body tensed at the brief contact as a pleasurable chill
wiggled up her spine.  Her already-fuzzy mind locked up, utterly
useless, as Austin looked at her and smiled that annoyingly charming
crooked smile of his.

She mentally shook herself, forcing her thOUghts back to business. "Any
word about the Krills?"  Chief Raines had nixed the idea of
twenty-four-hour surveillance of the Krill home.  Too expensive.  But
Caro had been hoping that the neighbor would come through.

Austin shook his head, still smiling.  "We won't need them," he said
confidently.

"In that ease, is there anything else you want me to do right now?"

"How about making some more phone calls?  Maybe you can locate another
girl the way you did Julie Yates, Vkginia said those three girls were
the only ones she'd been paid for, but who's to say Odell is honest?"

"Okay," she said without much enthusiasm.  What she really wanted was
to go home and crawl into bed with a good book.  She stood up and was
just about to leave when she spotted Tony V'd-la verde heading their
way, grinning ear to ear.  "What are you doing down here,
Villaverde?"

"Looking for you.  Fran told me to track you down before I went home
today and make sure you were coming tonight."

"I'm coming," Cam said, trying to inject some enthusiasm into her
voice.  "I'm going to drink myself into oblivion and sleep on your
living room floor."

"Yeah, fight."  Tony turned to Austin.  "You ever seen this lightweight
drink more than half a glass of wine?"

"I've never even seen that," Austin said, his tone indicating that he'd
like to.

"Well, you got plans for the evening?"  Tony asked.  "You're welcome to
come to my party.  In fact, we'll be celebrating more than just New
Year's Eve."  He looked at Cato.  "My transfer came through."

"Oh, Tony, that's..."  She felt like her mouth and throat were full of
cotton.  "That's really terrific," she managed to say as she gave him a
hug.  "Tony's transferring to CAPERS," she told Austin.

"Great, congratulations!"  He shook Tony's hand.  "Now you can look
forward to being the new kid on the block, a title I'!1 gladly
relinquish."

"Hey, thanks, man.  Seriously, my wife and I would love to have you
over tonight."

Cato realized she was holding her breath, waiting for Austin's
answer.

"Thanks, but I already have plans."

She couldn't deny the disappointment she felt.  Why, when she spent so
many waking hours with Austin, would she want to see him during one of
her brief periods of leisure time?

The answer to that was painfully apparent, even to a woman in denial.
She was so attracted to the man she sometimes couldn't think straight
around him.  That, more than anything, was why she couldn't wait for
this investigation to be over.

Chapter 13

Caro was glad she'd come to the Villaverdes' crowded, noisy party, she
decided as she nursed her second plastic cup full of white wine.  It
felt good to relax and forget about work for a while.  Now that the
phone company had installed tracers on the lines at both Wanda's
Answering Service and the Women's Services Clinic, there was nothing to
do but wait until Odell tipped her hand.

It was both exhilarating and tense to be so close but feel so helpless
at the same t'mae.  Cato hadn't truly relaxed in so long she wasn't
sure she remembered how to do it.  But the wine was deft-nitely
helping.

"And you had to bottle-feed all twelve puppies?"  Cam asked the woman
she'd been half listening to for the last few minutes, the Villaverdes'
neighbor, who'd been waxing eloquent on her Dober-man pins chef
whelping experience.

The woman started to answer when Fran Villaverde bustled between them
with a squeal of delight, throwing her arms around Cato.  "Oh, honey,
it's so good to see you," she said, her black curls bouncing with every
word.  She was one of those round, bubbly cheerleader types who always
had a smile, and it was impossible to remain in a bad mood around her.
"I saw the stuffed mushrooms in the dining room," she continued, "and I
knew you were here somewhere in this mad crush.  I'm so glad you could
make it ."

"Did I have a choice?"  Cato said, grinning.  "I got the impression I
would be drawn and quartered if I didn't show up."

"Well, I wasn't going to let you squirrel your way out of this party
like you did the last one."

The neighbor wandered away to find another audience for her Doberman
puppy story.  Fran bit her lip guiltily.  "She is a dear--the twins
just love her.  Then again, what kid wouldn't love someone with twelve
puppies?  Come on, let's sit down for a minute and catch up."  She
dragged Cato to a love seat in the corner of the living room and almost
pushed her into it.  "What do you think about Tony's transfer?"

"I'm devastated, what else?"  Cato.answered honestly.  "There's no one
else in our department I can rely on like I do Tony.  But I

think he'll do great in CAPERS.  Homicide section, no less."  "Why dont
you go with him?"  Fran asked innocently.

"I was already there once, remember?"  Cato said with a dismissive wave
of her hand.  "Four years in CAPERS is enough.  Too much pressure.  if
I needed any reminders, the last couple of weeks I've been working on
these two cases--"

"Oh, Tony told me.  That Lomax guy's been driving you crazy, huh?"

"It's the work that's been driving me crazy.  I'm not used to it.  And
I dont think I want to get used to it."

"But what about Lomax?"  Fran persisted, making Cato wonder what Tony
had told her.  Fran was an incurable matchmaker, always on the lookout
to hook up her single friends with suitable partners.  She and Tony
were so happily married, she wanted everyone else to be, too.

"He's okay," Cato said with a shrug.

"Tony says you kind of' sparkle whenever you're around him."  "Oh,
Tony's full of it!"  Caro scoffed, though inwardly she was mortified.
Was her response to Austin that plain for anyone to see?  "Austin Lomax
is an egotistical jerk.  I dont 'sparkle' when I'm around him, I fume,"
she added for good measure.

Fran leveled her gaze at Caro.  "Whatever you say."

"No, really, Finn I--"

"Well, if you're not interested in Austin, then you have to meet Glen.
Remember I told you about him?"

"The aerobics instructor," Cato said with mounting trepidation.  "He's
not here, is he?"  She mentally crossed her fingers.

"Yeah, he's right over there.  Red sweater, black jeans?  I know you
two would hit it off.  Glen?"  she called, motioning with her hand
while Caro tried to sink deeper into the sofa cushions.  "Come over
here, I'd like you to meet a friend of mine.  Glen, this is Caro

Triece.  She.  works with my husband."  Fran turned to Cam.  "Glen
teaches aerobics at my health club and he's writing a fitness book. 
Oh, look, you both need refills on your drinks.  Let me take care of
that for you."

Fran snatched their glasses out of their hands and disappeatexi.

"Subtle, isn't she?"  Cato said as Glen, a mountain of muscle with
flowing blond hair, sat gingerly on the love seat next to her.  "Huh.*"
he said.  Not a promising beginning.

"So, you're writing a book," she began, and that was all it took.  For
the next fifteen minutes be told her all about his idea for a book on
how to be your own personal fitness trainer.  He'd already written
three pages, he related proudly.  Cato entertained herself by thinking
of all the ways she would get back at Fran.  And when she'd run out of
methods for torture she tried to think of a clever way to extricate
herself, although she could probably tell Glen his feet were on fire
and he would dutifully whisk himself out of her presence in search of a
hose.

In the end she didn't need to come up with anything brilliant.  A
strong hand grabbed her by the arm and practically lifted her off the
love seat.  "Excuse us for a minute," the man said.  It took Cam
several confused moments to reconcile the fact that the man was Austin
Lomax.

"What are you 1oing here?"  she asked as he dragged her into a private
corner behind the Christmas tree.

"Rescuing you from Conan the Barbarian?"

"Glen and I were having a very interesting conversation," she said,
unsure why she was bothering to fabricate such an outrageous lie.  She
should be grateful to Lomax for what he'd done, and she was, but she
was also irritated by his high-handedness.

"Is that why you were studying the chandelier like it held the secret
of life?"

"Never mind Glen.  What am you doing here?  I thought you had 'plans.""
She was alarmed at the shrewishness she heard in her own voice.  What
did she care about his plans?  But she had to admit that, more than
once, she had pictured Austin at some other party with a date, and the
image had bothered her.

"I'm here on business," he said.  "Odell called her answering service
to check for messages."

Caro was instantly alert.  "And?"

"The phone company couldn't trace the call."

"Why not?"

"They think Odell has a cellular phone."

"But they can at least truce cellular calls to the general area where
the repeater is located, right?"

"Ordinarily.  But if she puts her phone on call forwarding and then
uses another phone and calls the cellular phone, she would reach the
answering service without leaving any kind of clue.  That type of call
is virtually untraceable."

"I'll be damned," Caro said.  Frustration welled up inside her,
tightening her gut.  She wanted to hit something, although for a change
it wasn't Austin.  "You came all the way over here to tell me that?"

"I had to tell somebody.  I didn't want to be the only one' whose New
Year's Eve was ruined."

"Thanks a heap."  She looked at him more closely then, noticing the
fact that he hadn't shaved recently, and he was still wearing the same
clothes he'd had on earlier.  Not that this lapse made him any less
sexy, but it did make.  her curious.  "What happened to your date?"

"What date?"

"Didn't you say you had a date?"

"I said I had plans.  There's a difference."

Cato felt a ridiculous surge of relief, which she promptly stifled. 
She might be a little fuzzy from the wine, but she should still be able
to keep her mind on business.  "What do we do next?"

He shrugged.  "I dont know about you, but I'd like a beer."  "I mean
about the case."

"I know what you mean.  I still want a beer."  Scowling fiercely, he
brushed past her and plunged into the throng of party-goers, leaving
Cato alone behind the Christmas tree.

With her back to the wall, she slowly bent her knees and slid to a
sitting position on the floor, hoping no one would see her or bother
her.  After hearing Austin's news, she didn't want to be here anymore.
The last thing she felt like doing was celebrating.  All she could
think about was those poor girls.  How were they marking the holiday?
Were they even aware of it?  According to Virginia, Odell had said she
treatxl the girls well, but that didn't mean anything.  It was already
firmly established that Odell lied,

Cato was trying to figure out how she could discreetly escape the party
when a cold glass of wine--in a real wineglass--appeared before her
face as if by magic.  She looked up to find that Austin was attached to
the offering.  He had a bottle of beer for himself.

"I remember Tony said something about you drinking wine," he said as
she accepted his gift.  "Is white okay, or would you like red
better?"

"This is fine, thanks," she said, amazed that he'd thought of her at
all, much less remembered what she liked to drink.  She took an
appreciative sip.

He sat on the floor beside her, and they were quiet for several
minutes.  Finally he spoke.  "Are you as bummed out about this as I
am?"

"At least."

"You asked what we're supposed to do next, and to tell you the truth, I
dont know."  Austin began ticking off the frustrations on his fingers.
"Amanda's letter had at least two sets of prints on it that weren't
Russ Arkin's, but they didn't match up to any prints we have on file in
the computer.  The 'only physical evidence in Amanda's car that might
be helpful were two gray hairs attached to the broken fingernail.  But
they're useless until we catch a suspect.  Travis Beaman is still out
of the country.  The Krills haven't shown up yet, either.  And now our
prime suspect has outsmarted us."  When he ran out of fingers on one
hand he stopped and took a long pull on the beer bottle.

"I even checked with the FBI to see if they had any similar cases," he
went on, "like a rash of disappearing pregnant girls, or missing girls
connected to an abortion clinic.  Nothing."  "When did you do that?" 
"A little while ago."

"You've been working this whole evening?"

"I told you I had plans.  Those were my plans, to keep working."  When
she looked at him questioningly, he added, "I didn't want to admit that
I didn't have anything to do tonight, okay?  Don't give me the third
degree about it."

"Okay."  She settled back against the wall and smiled.  For some reason
it tickled her that she and Austin both had to practically be dragged
to a New Yeaifs Eve party.

"I only came here to talk about the case," he said defensively.

"I'm not much in the mood for parties."

"Then let's talk.  Any other ideas?"

"I haven't come up with much, but... we could set up recorders at the
clinic and the answering service, and taPe any incoming calls from
Odell.  Maybe she'll give something away, or her voice or some
background noise will give us a clue."

Well, it was something, anyway.  Betlet than doing nothing.  Cato had
an idea of her own.  "How many "Odeils' do you suppose there are in
Texas?  It's not a very common name."

"Are you suggesting we ask the Department of Motor Vehicles to check
and see?"  he asked, gazing at her skeptically.  "Odell might be an
alias."

"Hey, I didn't pooh-pooh your idea."

He actually cracked a smile.  "Sorry.  Okay, it's worth a shot.  Your
wild shots seem to pay off.  Maybe we could also--what is that woman
doing?"  He was staring at Fran, who had climbed up onto a chair and
was tapping a glass with a knife to get everyone's attention.

"Quiet, everyone, quiet," she yelled above the party noise.  "It's
about thirty seconds to midnight, so everybody put on your Chap
Stick--"

She was interrupted as a ten-second countdown chorus began.  Tony,
impatient for those last few seconds, pulled Finn off the chair and
into his arms in a showy kiss.

All at once it hit Cato what was about to happen.  In five more seconds
everybody in the room would be kiss' rag someone.  She stared
resolutely at a little drum hanging from the Christmas tree, acutely
aware of the warmth of Austin's body next to hers, then the brush of
his breath on her cheek.  Somewhere a champagne cork popped, and
midnight arrived.

"Well?"  Austin said softly in her ear.

"Well what?"  Her voice was breathless and girlish-sounding as panic
rose in her chest.

"Happy New Year, Cato."  He pressed a warm kiss on her ear, then her
neck.

She turned toward him, helpless to stop herself.  There was something
so compelling about the huskiness in his voice, the smoky smell of his
after-shave, and the sudden ache of loneliness that needed to be
filled.  She let him kiss her ... no, she kissed him, hard and deep as
the need expanded and encompassed both of them.  His hands were in her
hair and his tongue was in her mouth, and she suddenly felt connected
to Austin Lomax in a way she'd never experienced with anyone.  Maybe it
was the shared frustration of the case, or the fact that they were
working toward a common goal, or maybe it was simply a case of hormones
running amok.  But she didn't want to stop kissing him.  She didn't
want to break the fine thread of understanding that had finally been
spun between them.

Austin pulled away first.  It was only then Cato realized their embrace
was being serenaded by a chorus of whistles and catcalls.  She'd been
so caught up she'd forgotten they were in Tony's living room with
dozens of people--many of them her colleagues--all around them.

Her face burned with embarrassment.  "I dont know about you,

but I'm getting out of here," she said, struggling to her feet.  "I'm
right behind you.  Where's your coat and purse?"  "Hall closet.  I
didn't bring a purse."  "TII meet you outside.  You'll see my car."

It didn't even occur to her to argue.  All she could think about was
escaping.  She would worry about the rest later.

Fran managed to waylay her at the front door.  "Austin's an egotistical
jerk, huh?"  she teased.  "He must have other attributes."

"Fran, please..."

Apparently sensing Caro's distress, Fran was immediately contrite. 
"Oh, honey, I'm sorry.  Did we embarrass you?"

"I embarrassed myself."  Cato reached for the doorknob.  "Walt a
minute.  Where's your coat?"

"Austin's getting it.  There's been a new development in the case we're
working on, and we need to go take care of some things," Cato fudged.

Fran wasn't fooled for a minute.  She gave Cato a sly smile, and then a
hug.  "Don't work too hard.  Happy New Year."

Caro hugged her back, then slipped out the front door into the crisp,
clear night.  Austin wasn't kidding when he said she'd see his car. The
conspicuous silver Jag was wedged between two other cars, hanging half
in the street.  Apparently he hadn't been patient enough to find a
proper parking space.

Austin appeared moments later.  Silently he held her jacket out for
her.  She slid her arms into the sleeves, and he held her briefly, then
let her go.  "That was some kiss," he said as easily as'd he were
talking about the hots d'oeuvres.

She couldn't disagree with him; he would know she was lying.  "Do you
think we could just forget about it?"  she ventured.

He gave a low, wicked laugh.  "Not on your life."  He took her hand and
led her toward his car.

"No, Austin, really, I ought to be getting home .... "

He ignored her ineffectual pro lest and part of her--the crazy part,
she supposed--was glad.  She didn't want to say good-night to him just
yet.

The Jag was a sexy car, she had to admit.  The engine roared powerfully
beneath the hood, and she could feel the road under her.  By watching
Austin steer, she could tell that the Jag handled the curves
beautifully.  The heater, however, left something to be desired.  It
continued to blast cold air at her even after a couple of minutes, and
she folded her arms tightly across her breasts.

"Where are we going?"  she finally asked, fearful of his answer.  "My
house."

She stifled a groan.  Oh, Lord, what was she doing?  If she had even an
ounce of willpower, she would order him to turn around right now and
take her back to the party, where she could get her own car and
hightail it home.

"You dont like that idea?"

"Uh, well..."

"I thought I might rustle up some breakfast, and we could do some more
brainstorming."

"Oh."  She wasn't sure she believed him.

"We can do it another time if you're too tired--"

"No, I'm fine."  And she'd be damned if she would fizzle out before
him.  If this was some kind of endurance showdown, she didn't intend to
be outshone.  She knew it was juvenile to feel so competitive toward
Austin, but she supposed if a spirit Of competition spurred them both
to go the extra mile on this case, that made it acceptable.

Austin lived in east Dallas, not all that far from Caro's neigh-bet
hood in a compact white frame house that stuck out among its brick
neighbors.

"It used to be a farmhouse, and the city grew up around it," he
explained as he unlocked the front door.  The moment the door was open,
a mammoth black dog was all over Austin, its front paws braced against
his chest as he tried to dodge its wide pink tongue.  "Hello, Shadow,
yes, hello."  As soon as Austin greeted the dog properly, it calmed
down.

"You're a big guy, aren't you?"  Care said as she gingerly patted the
beast's head.  His sheer size was daunting, but he appeared harmless
enough.

"That's Shadow," Austin said.  "C'mon, boy, let's go outside."

Those were the magic words.  The dog bounded after its master as Austin
led the way presumably to a back door.

Care peeked into the living and dining rooms, then wandered into the
kitchen.  The whole house had a sparse country look--not some
decorator's idea of country, but the real thing.  It was obvious Austin
didn't rank housework among his top priorities, but then, neither did
she.

"What kind of omelet do you like?"  he as led as he strode into the
kitchen.  "Your choices are cheese, cheese and--" he rummaged through
the refrigerator "--cheese."

He was really going to cook for her?  She found the idea disturbingly
intimate--almost as bad as dragging her straight to the bedroom.  "I'll
have cheese, thank you."  One omelet wouldn't kill her.  ,

"You want to make some orange juice?"

"Sure."  She felt better keeping busy in the old-fashioned kitchen
while Austin cooked--mixing the juice, setting the table, brewing
coffee for him and tea for herself.  With her hands safely occupied,
she could resist touching him as he moved easily between the stove and
refrigerator.  She could only hope he really didn't have seduction on
the agenda.  Her body was vibrating in so many different places, she
wouldn't stand a chance against him.

And going to bed with Austin would be madness.

Within a few short minutes they were sitting down at the kitchen table
to a modest feast.  Cato hadn't .alized how hungv] she was.  She
devoured her omelet and two pieces of toast.  Austin matched her bite
for bite.

When they were finished he set the dishes in the sink and refilled his
coffee cup.  Caro, too lazy to brew more tea, opted for coffee instead.
She didn't really rtke the taste, but she figured the caffeine wouldn't
hurt.

"You really want to work?"  he asked, and she thought she detected a
note of wistfulness in his voice.

Actually, she could think of several attractive alternatives, all of
them involving the removal of key items of clothing and contact between
various body parts.  She forced a bright smile.  "Sure, let's get after
it."

He led her into a small den that he'd set up as an office, with an old
rolltop desk--just as messy as his desk at work, with two aging cups of
cold coffee.  There was a short sofa pushed into one corner, a
curtainless window, and a whole wall of bookshelves.  Cato plopped down
on the sofa, pulled off her boots and tucked her feet under her.

Austin handed her a legal pad and pen.  He sat down at the
old-fashioned rolling desk chair with his own pad, his ankle crossed
over the other knee, glasses on.  Caro had noticed that Austin wore his
glasses only when he had to--due to vanity, perhaps?--so he was
probably serious about this working thing.

"Brainstorm," he said.  "Write down very idea, no matter how ridiculous
or stupid you think it is.  Turn off your inner critic."

"Okay."  She'd been to a seminar once--probably Austin had, too--where
this method was suggested, but she'd never actually used it to try and
solve a case.  It took a few moments to get started, but once she heard
Austin's pen scratching frantically against his paper, her competitive
instincts took over and her list of ideas began to take shape.

Some of the ideas were realistic.  Caro suggested they save the next
envelope Odell sent to either Virginia or Wanda and have it analyzed at
the lab for paper content as well as fingerprints.  Perhaps, if it
wasn't a common bmod, they could track down where Odell bought it.
Austin thought of consulting with a mental health professional to get a
psychological profile of Odell.

But as the night wore on, the ideas got sillier.  It became impossible
not to laugh at some of Austin's suggestions.

"Let's just set bear traps all over Texas for her," Caro said with a
giggle, feeling punchy.  It was close to three in the morning.

Austin didn't laugh.  In fact, he wasn't smiling at all.  "A trap,
huh?"

"I'm just kidding."

He didn't respond.  His expression was pensive, and it was almost as if
Cato was no longer in the room.

Not wanting to disturb his thinking process--if indeed that was what
was going on--she made herself more comfortable on the couch,
stretching her legs out and leaning her head against the armrest.
Within thirty seconds she was asleep.

Austin went to let Shadow in for the night.  A trap.  Set a trap.  The
words echoed over and over in his head.  But what kind of trap?  When
he returned to the office, an idea was beginning to germinate in his
imagination.  He started to tell Cato about it, but he realized she'd
fallen asleep.  Transfixed, he simply stared at her for uncounted
minutes, moved by the quiet beauty reflected in her face.

He'd never seen her so relaxed," without that constant wariness she
carried around with her.  With her brown hair gilded by the lamplight
and the serenity lent by sleep, she reminded him of a painting he'd
once seen of the Madonna--young, innocent.

Young.  Without that tough maturity reflected in her eyes, she really
did look amazingly youthful for a woman well past thirty.  And that's
when it hit him..  The elusive idea he'd been searching for all night
suddenly clicklxi into place.

Chapter 14

Caro awoke to the questionable benefit of having a wide, pink tongue
washing her face.  "Oh--Oh!  Get away.  Yuck."  She wiped her face with
the back of her hand.

"Shadow!  Come here!"  Austin skidded into the den, and Caro
immediately forgot the dog.  Her host had obviously just gotten out of
the shower, and he wore only a snug pair of jeans--not quite fastened
all the way--and no shirt.  "Sorry, he got away from me."

She quietly groaned as he left the room, dog in tow.  If she didn't
know better, she would think he'd flaunted himself in front of her that
way on purpose, just to torture her.  She had another reason for
groaning.  It was daylight outside.  She'd spent the night at Austin's
house, and Tony would know it because her car was still in front of the
Villaverdes' house.  No matter how she tried to explain, he wouldn't
believe her.  And he'd never let her hear the end of it.

She'd like nothing better than to blame this on Austin, but it was her
own fault.  She'd left the party with him, and she'd allowed herself to
fall asleep.  But it could be worse.  At least she hadn't awakened in
Austin's bed.

As Cato was finger-combing her hair and trying to get her bearings,
Austin reappeared--slightly more dressed.  He had on a half-buttoned
shirt.  But he was carrying two steaming mugs, so she would probably
forgive him anything.

He handed her one of the mugs.  "Tea."  And he sat on the couch next to
her, much too close.  She felt stale and grungy next to his abounding
cleanness.

"Th-thank you.  What time is it?"

"Almost ten."

"Ten!  I have to get home!"  She started to rise, but he grabbed the
hack of her sweater and held her in place.

"Stop panicking.  If I were going to pounce on you, I'd have done it
last night.  And the V'Rlaverdes have already seen your car,

so there's no reason to hurry on that account."

"They have?"

Austin grinned.  "Tony called me this morning, doing the
protective-older-brother routine."

Now Cato did groan.  "What did you tell him?"

"What do you think I told him?  That we were working and you fell
asleep on my couch."  He flashed that lazy, crooked grin the one that
did funny things to her insides.  "I was tempted to make up something
better, but I sort of like my face the Way it is."

So did she.  "I'll have to thank Tony for defending my virtue."  "Yeah,
but tell him it's not necessary.  You do a pretty good job defending
your own virtue."  As he spoke, he buried his hand beneath the mass of
her hair, found the sensitive nape of her neck,

and began a slow massage.

She let him.

"Do you know how bad I wanted to make love to you last night?"

"Austin, dont even--"

"I know what you're going to say, so dont bother.  I agree completely.
As long as we're working on this case, we'd be nuts to get involved."

She jumped off the couch like she'd been spring-loaded.  "Not just
while we're on this case," she argued, pacing the small room, clutching
her mug close to her body as if it could defend her against Austin's
charm, his appeal, his touch.  "I can't get involved with you,
period."

"Why not?"  he asked, all innocence.  He had no idea how close he was
to making her abandon her good sense.

"Because we work together--even though normally we won't see each other
on a day-to-day basis," she added quickly, forestalling his argument.
"If we were to... you know, it would he difficult to keep it
confidential, and it wouldn't look good, professionally speaking.  It
might even damage our careers.  Besides, ybu know as well as I do that
cops dont have the best track record when it comes to relationships,
and two cops in the same relationship... I

think we'd just he asking for trouble."

"Are you about finished?"

She racked her brain for more convincing arguments.  Admit-lediy, what
she'd said so far sounded disjointed and superficial.  But it was more
than just a vague worry about professionalism.  Deep inside--for
reasons unknown--she believed that to open up her heart to Austin Lomax
would be dangerous.  She simply couldn't risk it.  But neither could
she put that fear into words.  The words didn't exist to describe it.

"I guess I'm done," she said forlornly.  "Will you take me back to my
car now?"

"Not yet."  He appeared thoughtful for a moment; then abruptly shook
his head, as if to clear it of cobwebs.  "We still have business to
care of.  I came up with a great idea last night after you fell asleep,
but it's kind of wild, and I'll need your cooperation and support
before I bring it up to Chief Raines."

Oh, we're back to talking about work.  He'd certainly dismissed her
rejection with no trouble.  No moaning or teeth-gnashing. Ridiculously,
she felt a little disappointei that he hadn't tried harder.  "Okay,
what's the idea?"

Obviously agitated, he stood up and moved around the room distractedly.
Since there wasn't room for both of them to pace, she sat back down.

"Have you ever worked undercover?"  he asked.

"Once," she answered warily, unsure she liked the direction this
conversation was taking.  "No, a couple of times.  Remember I told you
about posing as bait for the serial rapist?  And once I played the part
of a hooker.  We were trying to catch this guy who was beating up
prostitutes down on Cedar Springs."

"Great.  Okay, this is the idea.  You said we needed to set a bear trap
for Odell, and that's exactly what we'll do.  We'll get Virginia
Dreyfus's cooperation--I dont think we'll have any trouble there. She's
feeling pretty guilty about the whole thing.  We'll have Virginia leave
a message for Odell at the answering sere ice And when Odell calls
back--assuming we still can't trace the call--Virginia will tell her
about a new patient at the clinic whom she feels is a perfect candidate
for Odell's maternity home."

"Meaning me?"  Dear God, he'd gone off the deep end this time. 
"Austin, in case you haven't noticed, I'm thirty-three years old."

"Yeah, but you dont look it."  She started to object, but he cut her
off.  "C'mon, Caro, admit it.  You could pass for twenty.  Besides, by
the time Odell gets close enough to question your age, we'll have
her."

Cato accepted that logic for the moment.  "Okay, go on.Y "When Virginia
talks to Odell, she really lays it on thick--how this poor little girl
is in such a quandary about her pEg nancy how shy and retiring she is.
Remember, Virginia said Odell had spedf-'ically requested girls with a
certain temperament--malleable, suggestible, nonaggressive types."

"But Odell doesn't take all the girls whose names Virginia has given
her.  For whatever reason, she ignores some of them.  How do we know
she'll want this girl?"

"Maybe Odell checks out all the names, only kidnapping the ones she can
get to easily, without witnesses.  We'll just make certain that the
girl Virginia describes is perfect.  We'll also make sure Virginia
mentions the fact that the girl's parents are out of town, so Odell
will know she's vulnerable..  The temptation will be irresistible."

"So you want me to make myself available for kidnapping?"  "My brother
has an empty rental house you can use," he said, ignoring her
trepidation.  "It's perfect.  We'll have two detectives in the house
with you at all times.  And my dad has an old panel van you can drive.
Your escorts can go with you anywhere undetected.  Of course, you'll be
wearing a body mike.  You'll be safe as a babe in arms."

Cato took a few moments' to mull over the scenario.  It really wasn't
so bad, she had to admit.  "Have you pondered how much this operation
will cost ?"

"That's the big drawback.  But the house and the van are free,

so the only thing we'll have to pay for is some overtime.  As paranoid
as Chief Raines is about this case, I think he just might go for it.
It's a mystery to me why the media haven't latched on to Amanda Arkin's
kidnapping and run with it.  Eventually they will, and then it might
just blow up in our faces.  I think Raines would like to get it solved
before that happens."

Caro said nothing as she tried to find holes in the plan.  But she
couldn't.  It was simple and straightforward.  Either Odell would take
the bait and they'd have her, or she wouldn't and they'd have wasted a
lot of time and money.  But what other options did they have?

"Can I count on you to back me up?"  Austin asked.  After a slight
hesitation, she nodded.  "Yeah, I'll do it."  "Great.  I'm going to
call a meeting for tomorrow afternoon with Chief Raines, your superiors
and my superiors.  The sooner we get this thing underway, the sooner
we'll find those girls."  Heheld out his hand.  "Come on, I'll take you
back to your car.  I havi a lot of details to work out between now and
tomorrow."

She placed her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet, but he
didn't release her.  Instead he pulled her right up against his chest,
and before she could even think of objecting he kissed her," fast and
hard.

"There's such a thing as taking a calculated risk, you know."

Cam wondered if he was talking about the undercover operation, their
nonexistent relationship, or both.

Amanda was finishing the last of her orange juice after breakfast when
Henry sidled up behind her, ostensibly to clear the table.  "I need to
talk to you," he whispered.

She glanced worriedly in Odell's direction, but Odell was busy
reprimanding poor Terri for her table manners.  Terri habitually drew
the old woman's wrath like sugar drew ants, but at least
Amanda's'friend was looking better today.  She had some color in her
cheeks."

It wasn't Amanda's turn for kitchen duty, it was Tern's.  But Amanda
stood, anyway, and began stacking dishes.  If Odell questioned her, she
would simply claim that she'd gotten mixed up about the schedule.

The moment she and Henry were alone in the kitchen, she turned to him.
"What is it?"

"The bars on one of the basement windows are loose," he said, his gaze
darting frequently to the door.  "I think I can get them off.  And I
can dig the hole under the fence behind the toolshed, like you said."

"That's wonderful, Henry!"  she said, hardly able to believe that she'd
actually convinced him to conspire against Odell.  She wondered briefly
if he were setting some other kind of trap for her.  "Oh, but how will
I get into the basement?"  "That's the hard part.  You have to do
something really bad.  The basement is where Aunt Odell puts bad
girls."

Amanda remembered that Terri had mentioned something about the
"Dungeon," misspelled, of course, during one of their dialogues on the
pipes.  The message had been a bit garbled, but doubtless she'd been
talking about the basement.  No one had been sent there since Amanda's
arrival, making her wonder just how bad she had to be to earn that
punishment.

"What can I do that's really bad?"  she asked as she began running
sudsy water in the sink.

"Well, last time, Terri threw a pork chop at Odell.  That made her
pretty mad.  And Jenny--she's not with us anymore--she started punching
this other girl."

Amanda resisted the urge to ask just exactly where Jenny was.

"But what are you gonna do about the dogs?"  Henry asked.  "Phoebe
probably wouldn't hurt you, but that Bella is mean."

Amanda already knew that.  APparently the Geman shepherd had attacked
Terri during one of her many foiled escape attempts.  "Could you bring
the dogs inside?"  Amanda asked hopefully.

He shook his head.  "Bella won't obey me, only Aunt Odell.  And I dont
aim to get my arm bit off, no thanks."

"Well, I'll think of something.  You just work on those bars...
please?"  she added quickly, so that Hemry wouldn't think she was
bossing him around.

"I'll try," he said.

Austin was feeling pretty pleased with himself.  Chief Raines had
jumped at the chance to take some sort of positive, dramatic action
toward catching a serial.  kidnapper He was pleased that Austin had
found ways to implement the plan for less money, and he'd okayed the
overtime with hardly a blink.  After the meeting, it had taken less
than two days to get everything in place.  Virginia had left the
message, and Odell had returned her call right on schedule, less than
an hour ago.  The psychologist had informed Odell of a patient named
Marie Plummer, using all of the details Austin had supplied.  Austin
had listened to the taped conversation, and Virginia had done a damn
good acting job.

Now all that icmained was to wait for Odell to take the
bait--admittedly the iffiest part of the operation.  Despite Chief
Raines's enthusiasm, he would give this operation no more than a few
days to produce results.  The budget simply couldn't bear more than
that.

Austin watched as Care took a tour of her new digs.

"Not bad, not bad," she said, raking her finger over a counter-top and
inspecting it for dust.  Her cat, which she'd insisted on bringing with
her to the rental house, jumped onto the counter and butted his head
against her arm.  She petted him absently.  "All in all, this isn't bad
for an undercover assignment.  But I have to' tell you, I feel
ridiculous in these clothes."

"You look terrific."  He had taken her to Northpark Mall and dragged
her into a store that specialized in teen fashions, then picked out
several outfits for her to try on.  She'd 1sucked and hollered the
whole time, but in the end she let him buy her a few things that would
supplement her own wardrobe, to make her look a little more youthful.
He'd purposely chosen some items that showed off her figure--more so
than those oversized sacks she was so fond of.  It was that, more than
anything, that she was uncomfortable with.

Austin couldn't imagine why.  She had a lean, supple-looking body a lot
of women would kill for.  But given the way she under-v'ilayed her
natural beauty, he suspected she had problems dealing with her more
feminine side, especially working in such a male dominated field.  She
probably spent a lot of time defending her abilities to the various
rednecks and chauvinists she encountered.

"Yeah, I'd say it's a pretty cushy assignment," he said.  "You get to
watch TV all day, eat food provided by the police department "

Cato wasn't listening.  She was busy inspecting the kitchen.  "Okay,
who bought this food?"

"I

did."

"I

should have figured.  Frozen pizzas, frozen burritos, microwave
popcorn, three flavors of Doritos, and enough Hostess snacks to give
the entire Dallas Cowboys a sugar high.  Do you ever eat anything
green, Lomax?"

"I

like guacamole."  She made a sound of definite disgust.  "Never mind.
YOU said I would have two detectives guarding me at all times.  Who's
the other one?"  "He's on his way.  We'll both work a twelve-hour
shift.  At night you'll have Penny Hart with you.  Raines didn't think
it was necessary to have two people at night."  Cator niled in obvious
pleasu.  "Oh, good, I like Penny.  I was afraid you would stick me with
some old fogy who wouldn't be any fun.  Sometimes the most dangerous
aspect of an undercover assignment is the possibility of dying of
boredom."

"Not while I'm around," he assured her.  He opened the case he'd
brought with him from home.  "Videotapes, everything from Casablanca to
Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure.  I also have Nintendo, Game Boy
and, if you're not into electronics, a couple of decks of cards.  It'll
he like a regular vacation."

"Yeah, except you dont have to wear this body mike with all this itchy
tape.  Where did you get this historical artifact, anyway?"  she asked,
gingerly touching the microphone beneath her shirt.  "Why couldn't I
get one of those new miles, the all-in-one jobs that look like bee
pets

"Blame it on Narcotics.  They get all the good, new techno-stuff, and
we have to beg for their cast-offs."  Actually, he didn't mind that
they were using the old-style microphone, especially since he'd helped
to install it on Caro's body.  How else would he ever get a glimpse of
her bare midriff, or any excuse to touch her there, even if it was only
to wrap tape around her?  There was little chance they would need the
mike, anyway.  He didn't intend to let Cato far out of his sight during
the day, and it was doubtful Odell would actually attempt to break into
the house at night.

The doorbell rang, and Cato went to answer it, with Austin just out of
sight, listening intently.  It was extremely unlikely that Odell would
strike this soon, but he wasn't taking any chances.

"Tony!"  Cato exclaimed, opening the door wider.  "Don't tell me you're
my other watchdog."

"You were expecting maybe Chief Raines himself?"  Tony sauntered in,
grinning, as Austin relaxed and stepped around the corner.  "My first
day on the job in CAPERS and what plum assignment do I get?"  He let
the question go unanswered.

"It's about time you got here," Austin said, letting his irritation
show.  Despite his teasing Caro, he was nervous as hell about the
outcome of this plan.  If it succeeded, he would have firmly tablished
his reputation.  If it flopped, he might spend months, years, redeeming
himself.

"Hey, I wouldn't have missed this for the world," Tony said.  "I wasn't
about to leave you two alone in an empty house for long.  You might get
distracted and forget all about catching a kidnapper."

Caro hit him on the arm--and it wasn't just a friendly little punch,
either.  "Cut it out, Villaverde," she said, her face turning pink.
"I've had enough, okay?"

Tony winced and rubbed his arm.  "Okay, I get the message.  What's the
game plan?"

Austin was quick to take charge.  "One of us will be stationed in a
back bedroom, keeping an eye out the window at the street and
monitoring the microphone, if necessary.  If anyone approaches the
house, I want to know about it in plenty of time.  The other will keep
Cato company."

"I think I can manage to keep myself entertained, thanks," she said,
looking down her nose at them.

"All right, then, the other will patrol the house, checking all of the
windows regularly and keeping the undercover officer in visual contact
at all times," he said, falling back on impersonal' jargon No matter
how pleasant a diversion this operation might be, it was still
dangerous, especially for Caro, and he didn't intend to take his
responsibilities lightly.  "We know that at least one of the girls,
Julie Yates, disappeared from her home, so it's not unreasonable to
expect Odell to show up here.  Two of the girls, however, were
apprehended when they were away from home.  So if nothing has happened
by tomorrow, we'll venture out in the van."

"To the grocery store," Cato added.  "That is, if we're not all dead
from junk-food poisoning by then."

Tony, who seemed a little wary of Caro's less-than-cheerful mood, not
to mention her punches, volunteered for the first shift in the back
bedroom, leaving Austin alone with her.  Although Austin had been
hoping for an opportunity to spend some time with her and explore the
real reasons she wanted to keep him at arm's length, he wasn't sure
this was the best time.  Cato seemed antsy, unable to focus on anything
for very long.

He tried to teach her how to play a Mario Bros.  video game, but she
gave up in frustration after only a few attempts.  Then they tried
poker--which he'd sworn he would never play with her because she was so
good at hiding her feelings--but she lost almost every hand and gave up
on that, too.  Television proved to hold just as little interest.  Her
attention span didn't stretch even to a half-hour game show, and before
long she was pacing the house like a caged cat.  "Anything wrong?"
Austin asked.

"I guess I'm not very good at sitting around and waiting," she said.
"Even when I was an undercover prostitute, "I was doing something."

"Yeah?"

She flopped down in an old recliner.  "You know, walking around,
talking to people, fending off johns and trying to make it look
believable that I didn't want a new customer.  I told them I was
already booked and I was waiting for my next appointment."

Austin smiled.  He would've liked to see Caro dressed up like a hooker,
just for the novelty.  "Well, I can't provide any activity quite that
interesting, but if there's something else you'd rather be doing..." He
knew what he'd rather be doing.  He'd like to give that body mike she
was wearing a real good test.  When she didn't reply, he turned off the
TV and added, "We could just talk."

She surprised him by agreeing.  "Okay.  You want something to drink?"

"Yeah, I'll make some coffee.  And I bought you some of that herbal tea
you like."

She actually smiled at him.  "Thanks."

As they puttered around in the kitchen, Caro's nervous chatter was
incredibly revealing.  Austin learned about her small-town upbringing,
her law-enforcement parents, the tough time she'd had in the police
academy, always trying to look harder and meaner than anyone else to
make up for her small size.

Noticeably absent in her dialogue was any mention of romantic liaisons.
Austin decided he couldn't let that go unchallenged.  "You ever been
married?"  he asked.

"No, have you?"

"Who'd have me?"  he quipped.

"Oh, I expect if you really had your mind set on hearth and home, you
could trick some poor, unsuspecting female into marriage.  After all,
you're over thirty, gainfully employed and not painful to look at.  Any
single woman of a certain age will tell you, those credentials are
pretty impressive."

He took inordinate pleasure in the compliment, though it had been
delivered with tongue firmly in cheek.  "Okay, so maybe I dont really
want to be married.  What about you?"

She shrugged.  "I came close once.  And I'm not even sure why I
thickened out, except it just didn't feel right.  The idea of spending
fifty or sixty years with the same person is a little daunting.  Of
course, the older I get, the shorter that future gets.  Maybe by the
time I'm eighty, marriage won't seem so scary."

"I hear you."  He toasted her with his coffee.  "Do you still see the
guy?"

"Oh, God, no.  He was pretty ticked off about the whole thing."  "Are
you seeing anybody?"  he couldn't help asking.  Wariness immediately
showed in her eyes.  "No."  She quickly changed the subject.  "I'm
going to take Tony a cup of coffee.  While I'm gone, you might be
thinking about your life story, cause I intend to give you the same
type of grilling you just gave me."

He watched her sashay out of the kitchen.  Grilling?  He'd thought he
was just making conversation.  Well, okay, so he was asking most of the
questions and she'd been prOviding the an-savers.  Maybe if he
reciprocated, giving her the scant details Of his mostly routine and
nnglamorons past, she wouldn't be so afraid of letting him into her
life.

Amanda's stomach was so tied up in knots she could hardly eat her roast
beef and mashed potatoes.  But that was all fight.  She had other plans
for the meat.  While Odell was occupied cutting her own slice of beef,
Amanda rolled hers up and stuck it up the sleeve of her sweatshirt. 
The ham from her lunch sandwich was in the front pocket of her jeans.

All the planning she and Terri had done during those late-night Morse
code sessions, all the brainstorming, all the pparafions, bo'fied down
to this evening.  What she accomplished dpring the next few minutes
might well determine whether she ands the other gifts lived or died.

Henry had informed her this morning during exercise that everything was
ready.  The basement window security bars were loose, the hole under
the fence had been dug.  He'd told her that if she headed due east she
would arrive at a town called River Rock, although it would be a good
ten-mile hike.  He had agreed to meet her at the Dairy Queen the
following day, give her a little money and help her find a place to
stay.  Not that she intended to get anywhere near Hemy once she was
free of this place!

Now all that remained was to set her escape in motion.  And that meant
relying on her limitl acting abilities.

At least one thing was working in her favor.  Odell was already in a
foul mood.  She'd been gone most of the day, leaving Henry in charge,
and when she returned she'd been wearing a-black scowl.  Amanda
wondered if she'd been on a kidnapping mission that had gone awry. 
Ever since the day Heather had miscarried and subsequently disappeared,
Odell had been more on edge than normal.

But she wasn't so preoccupied that she couldn't deliver her nightly
sermon.  Tonight's lesson was Brotherly Love.  How ronic.

Amanda knew that if she put it off much longer she would lose her
nerve.  After taking a deep breath, she pushed herself away from the
table and lurched to her feet.  "Stop kicking.  me she screamed at
Terri, who sat across the table.

Odell stopped talking mid-sentence, and everyone stared in
astonishment.  After her fn-st couple of days at the home, Amanda had
been notoriously mild-mannered.

"Amanda, sit down," Odell ordered.

"Not until you make her sit somewhere else," Amanda said, pointing at
Terri.  "Every meal she kicks me, and I'm sick of it."

"Sit down!"  Odell repeated, more forcefully this time.  "I dont want
to hear another word from you."

"Oh, yeah?  Well, too bad.  I'm sick of heine quiet, and I'm sick of
your Bible lessons and I'm sick of this whole place!"  With every word
Amanda shrieked a little more loudly, as if she were losing control.
She flipped over her dinner plate, spilling gravy and peas everywhere.
When Odell tried to grab her by the arm, Amanda eluded capture just
long enough to pitch her glass of milk into Odell's face.

Odell was so shocked that for a moment all she could do was stare in
open-mouthed horror.  Amanda took the opportunity to strike again,
leaping on Odell and wrapping her hands around the old woman's throat.
She felt a surge of power flow through her.  She was no longer acting.
Her hatred toward Odell flared all around her, a palpable force, and if
Henry hadn't pulled her off she could have done some real damage.

She fought against Henry, too, until she realized that if she made
Henry mad he might foil her plans.  So rather than punching or kicking,
she resorted to verbal abuse.  "Let go of me, you big ox!"  she
screamed.

He held her arms fast, and Odell delivered a stinging slap to Amanda's
face.  "What's gotten into you, child?"  Odell demanded.

"The devil," Amanda replied, her eyes watering from the slap.  "You're
the one wh called me a sinner."

"But I'm giving you the opportunity to atone for your sins," Odell
said, sounding more bewildered than angry now.

That wasn't what Amanda was after.  Grappling with' her cour age, she
spit on Odcll.  "There's Your atonement."

Odell closed her eyes, her hands bunched into fists, as if she had to
control the urge to beat some sense into her wayward sheep.  "Henry,
take her to her room."

"No!  I won't go to my rOom."  Amanda renewed her struggle, although
she was careful not to do anything that would actually hurt Henry.

Henry spoke up for the first time.  "Aunt Odell, do you want I should
put her in the basement?"

Amanda held her breath.  Henry couldn't have delivered a better line if
it had been scripted and rehearsed.  At that moment she could have
kissed him.

After a tense moment, Odcll nodded.  "Yes, that's an excellent idea."
She looked squarely at Amanda.  "I think you'll benefit from some quiet
time to contemplate your sins."

"Why the basement?"  Amanda asked, feigning alarm.

"Oh, you'll like the basement," Henry said as he started to drag her
away, one of her arms doubled behind her back.  His grip was painful,
and she wondered if he wasn't enjoying his part in this drama a bit too
much, but she couldn't really complain.  He'd done his job well.

' The basement stairs were off the kitchen, within hearing distance of
the dining room, so Amanda put up a believable fight.

"Wait a minute.  Why do I have to go in the basement?  Hey, it's dark
down there.  Can't you turn on a light?"

Henry very nearly pushed her down the stairs and then slammed the door,
leaving her in absolute darkness.

Chapter 15

Amanda's heart felt like a jackhammer inside her chest.  She'd done it!
Stage one of her plan had proceeded without a hitch.  She hadn't
counted on the total darkness, however.  She groped along the wall for
a light switch.  Finding none, she felt her way gingerly down the
unstable wooden steps.  Basements weren't common in Texas, so she'd
never been in one before and, in fact, hadn't ever seen one except in
movies and on TV.  She could easily give herself a first-class case of
the willies.

No, that was ridiculous.  She'd come this far.  She could handle a
little darkness and a musty smell.

Her next step was to locate the window.  Was there more than one?  She
hadn't thought to ask Henry that.  She might have to try several before
she found the one with the loose bars.  And it was so damn dark she
didn't know where to start.  Now that her eyes had adjusted to the
blackness, she should have been able to discern faint exterior light
through the windows--moonlight, starlight, something.  But she might as
well have been submerged in a bucket of tar for all she could see.

She knew the wall to her left faced the dining room; obviously it
wouldn't have a window.  So she groped along it until she came to a
corner, then began exploring the new wall with her hands, running them
along the grainy concrete like surface from chest level to as high as
she could reach.

A faint squeaking noise startled her.  Oh, God, rats, she thought as
panic welled up inside her.  No, no, may he they weren't rats, but
little field mice.  She could handle that.  And as long as she didn't
see them, she would never know how big they were Still, she stepped
carefully as she made her way around piles of boxes and lumber.  If she
stepped on one she would scream.

Finally she found a window.  It was above her head, wide but not very
tall.  She wouldn't have any problem getting through it if she could
boost herself up that far.  Getting it open was the biggest challenge,
she soon discovered.  It wouldn't budge.

She needed something to stand on, but if she walked away from the
window to search, would she find it again?  Well, she'd have to, she
reasoned.  With her hands extended in front of her, she groped through
the darkness, running into various unidentifiable objects.  At last she
stumbled into something she was able to recognize as a metal folding
chair.  Perfect.

Before she could drag it to the window, she heard a commotion at the
top of the steps.  What now?  Surely Odell wouldn't change her mind and
bring Amanda upstairs.  It was Odell's voice, all right.

"We'll see if you're laughing tomorrow morning," she said, sounding
very angry.  A sliver of light spilled down the stairs as the door
opened and someone was thrust into the basement.

"You can't do this to me."  It was Terri!  "That bitch is crazy! 
She'll beat me up.".

It.took Amanda a moment to realize Terri was talking about her.  But
Odell didn't respond except to slam the basement door.

"Hey, Amanda," Terri called out.  "I'm coming down there.  You wouldn't
beat up a poor, defenseless, fat, pregnant girl, would you?"

Amanda wanted to laugh.  She moved toward the stairs.  "Just stay away
from me," she called back, in ease Odell was listening

Tern's tennis shoes made slow, quiet thuds as she worked her way
cautiously down the stairs.  When she reached the bottom Amanda was
there.  They found each other in the darkness and hugged so hard it
hurt.

"What are you doing down here?"  Amanda whispered.

"I couldn't let you do this alone," Terri whispered back.  "So I
started laughing when Hentry hauled you off, saying it served you
right.  Odell didn't like that, and as mad as she was, it didn't take
much to provoke her.  Now I can help you escape.  Maybe I can boost you
out the window, or distract the dogs while you run.  I have a whole
pocketful of meat."

"Oh, but Terri, when Odeli finds out I'm gone, she'll blame you for
helping me!  I hate to think what she might do to you."

"Picare, I can handle Odell.  As long as I know help is coming, I can
take anything she dishes out.  Are you okay?  Man, does that old broad
know how to slap, or what?"

Amanda rubbed her face, which still smarted.  "Tin okay.  How about
you?"

"I'm great.  God, it's so neat actually to be able to talk to you!"

"I know.  But let's not get too carried away.  We've got work to do.
How many windows are there down here?"  she asked.

"Uh, one, two, three... four, I think.  They're painted over so no
light gets through."

Ah, no wonder it was so dark.  "There's a slight problem," Amanda said.
"Henry didn't tell me which window has the loose bars.  We'll just have
to try them all.  Let's start with this one over here--if I can find it
again."

Amanda found the window, and between her and Terri they managed to pry
it open by sticking a board under the handle.  Unfortunately, the
burglar bars were as secure as Fort Knox.

"There's another window on this wall, further down here," Terri said,
undaunted.  "Let's try it next.  Don't worry, we've got all night."

"We do?"  Amanda was under the impression that her sentence to the
dungeon would be.  a mere hour or two.  "Odell actually leaves people
in this disgusting place overnight?  She would make a good character in
a Dickens novel."  "A what novel?"  "Never mind."

"I've spent the night here a couple of times.  Didn't you hear her? She
said she'd see if I was laughing in the morning."

"Oh, that's right.  Well, for once, I'm glad Odell is a sadist.  Surely
we can get the right window open and the bars off before morning."

And they did.  The third window, which was almost behind the furnace,
proved to be the one.  Once they got it open, the bars pushed easily
away.  "Give me that meat you've been saving," Amanda said.

"Gladly.  But dont you think we should wait until later when everyone's
asleep?  What if Odell steps outside and sees you?"

"I'm afraid to wait.  Besides, last I saw, Phoebe was still inside.  I
dont know where Bella is, but the fewer dogs I have to deal with, the
better."

"Okay, if you say so.  Uck, this meat loaf is disgusting."  "My God,
how long have you been saving this junk?"

"Couple of days."  Terri transferred the cold, slimy bundle of meat
into Amanda's hand.

Amanda cringed as she slid it up her sleeve.  "The damn dog will
probably take my arm off," she muttered.  "Okay, I'm set.  Wish me luck
and I'm outta here.  Can you boost me up?"  "Amanda, wait."  "What?"

"I want to go with you."

Amanda actually laughed.  "You've got to be kidding.  You're almost
nine months' pregnant.  A ten-mile hike will send you into labor at the
ve least, and kill you at the worst.  That's assuming you can fit
through the window and under the fence."

"I dont have to go the whole way with you.  Just get me on the other
side of the fence, and I'll waltin the woods until you bring help."

"But why dont you just wait here?  Once I'm free, it won't take long--a
few hours at the most."

"I might not have a few hours," Terri said, her voice suddenly thick
with tears.  "The baby has dropped, my back's been hurting all day...
I'm afraid I'll go into labor before you can bring help, and then
what'll happen to me?  The old witch will kill me, that's what."

"But, Terri--"

"And I'm in good shape, thanks to all that exercise Odell makes us do.
I probably could hike ten miles.  Please, Amanda, d9n't leave me here.
I'd rather have my baby in the woods than here."

Amanda saw her carefully constructed plan crumbling.  It would be
difficult for her to escape alone, much less with Terri in tow.

"Besides," Terri added, "when we get free, we can separate.  Then if
Odeil and her dogs come after us, there's more chance that at least one
of us can make it all the way to safety.  It'll confuse Phoebe.  She'll
have a harder time tracking two people.  And if it comes down to one of
us distracting the dogs while the other one gets away..."

"Oh, sure, and the one left behind gets eaten.  No, Terri, this isn't
going to work.  Let's just stick to the plan.  I'll bring help back before anything can happen to you or the baby, I promise."

Terri shuffled.  "Okay," she said meekly.

Amanda had heard her use that same tone of voice with Odell, when she
was feigning cooperation.  It made Amanda uneasy.  "Come on, move that
chair closer," she said gruffly, afraid that if she showed any
softening, Terri would get her way.

Taking a deep breath, Amanda pushed the bars side and crawled through
the window.  The yard was almost as dark as the

basement.  She could see only a few faint stars peeking through the
clouds and the vague outlines of trees and buildings.  Thank God Bella
was nowhere in sight.  '

Well, there was no going back now.  She turned to replace the security
bars in front of the window, so nothing would readily appear out of
place in the morning.

"Ouch!  Hold it a second, I'm right behind you."  "Terri!  Get back
inside."  "I think I'm stuck."

Exasperated, Amanda grabbed Terri by the shoulders and started to push.
"Get back inside."

"No.  I'm coming with you and that's that.  Owl Quit pushing.  I can't
go backward, I can only go forward."

"Oh, for God's sake."  Defeated, Amanda began pulling instead of
pushing.  If she didn't help Terri get unstuck, she might remain there
all night.

"There, see?  I'm already out," Terri said triumphantly as she
laboriously maneuvered herself to her knees, then her feet.  "We're as
good as free."

"We're going to be dog food if you dont lower your voice," Amanda
whispered as she put the bars back where they belonged.  "I dont want
to hear a single complaint from you about being cold or hungry or
tired--"

"I won't!  Let's go see What kind of hole Henry dug for you."  They
strolled brazenly across the yard toward the storage shed.  Amanda's
senses were alert for any sign of man or beast, but all was quiet. Once
they were behind the shed and out of sight from the house, she breathed
a little easier.  She felt along the bottom of the chain-link fence
with her foot until she found a small depression.

Small was the operative word.

Amanda dropped to her knees and explored the hole with her hands.  "Oh,
for God's sake, this hole isn't big enough for me, much less you.  How
did Henry even imagine I could fit through there?"

"Now what are we going to do?"  Terri asked.

"We're going to dig a bigger hole, that's what.  Look around and see if
you can find a sharp rock or a stick or something."  Amanda began to
scoop dirt out of the hole, digging into the firm red earth with her
fingernails.

"Ha, found something better than a rock," Terri said.  "Henry left his
shovel out here."

"Great, give it here.  I'll have this hole so big we can sail the Queen
Mary through it."  Amanda tried to sound confident, despite the fact
that she'd never used a shovel in her life.

"The Queen Mary?  How about the Goodyear blimp?"  Terri hunkered down
beside the hole, raking dirt away with her hands as Amanda loosened it
with the shovel.  It was slow-go' rag though, and Amanda grew more
nervous with each passing minute.  Odell didn't carry that shotgun
around for decorative purposes.  "Uh-oh," Terri said.  "I think we got
company."

Amanda froze.  Sure enough, she could hear a dog's tags tinkling in the
still of the night.  That noise was followed by a low, menacing
growl.

"Bella?"  Amanda ventured, turning to face the dog.  She could just
make out those shiny, white teeth in the darkness, only a few feet
away.

Terri took the shovel and continued working while Amanda pulled a piece
of meat from her sleeve.

"Look, Bella, see the pretty meat?  Mrnm, yummy, yummy."

The growling stopped, replaced by a confused whine, then a sharp
bark.

"Shhh!  Quiet, Bella," Amanda said in a soothing voice, holding out the
meat.  She felt the German shepherd's warm breath on her hand a split
second before its powerful jaws snapped closed around the tidbit.
"How's it coming?"  she asked Terri.

"Just a little more."

"Hurry.  I dont know how long the meat will last."  The meat loaf was
little more than crumbles, which Bella eagerly Shuffled out of Amanda's
hand.  Next came another piece of roast beef, and then a slice of ham.
"Good dog, good dog," she crooned the whole time.

"Okay, I think I can get through now," Terri said just as the front
door of the house opened and a shaft of light from inside pierced
through the darkness.  The light didn't reach far enough behind the
shed to reveal their hiding place, but both girls stopped cold.

"Bella?"  Odell called questioningly from the direction of the front
porch.

"Go on, Bella," Amanda urged in a voice that was barely a whisper.  She
pointed urgently toward the house.  "Go to your mistress."

The dog looked over its shoulder toward the house when Odell called
again, then dismissed the summons in favor of the possibility of more
treats from Amanda.

"Terri, go now," Amanda ordered.  She had only one piece of meat left,
and she was breaking it up into small bites to make it last longer. She
could hear Terri scuffling and grunting with the effort of squeezing
under the fence.  Odell called the dog halfheartedly once more, and
then the door closed and it was dark once again.

"Okay, I'm through," Terri said, her breathing labored "It'll be a
cinch for you,"

Amanda threw the last bit of meat a few feet away, forcing Bella to
hunt for it, then turned and dived through the hole.  She managed to
wiggle through just as the dog came looking for.  more, whining and
jumping at Amanda's retreating legs.

"Here," Terri said, "we can block the hole with this log so she won't
follow us."

"Good thinking."  Amanda hadn't even considered that possibility.  With
a few tUgs and pushes, they wedged the rotting tree trunk into the hole
as a confused Bella continued to whine.  After one final shove, Amanda
grabbed Tern's sleeve so they wouldn't lose each other in the darkness,
and they set off into the woods.  Bella's whines turned back into
growls.

"We did it," Amanda said when the blackness of the thick trees had
swallowed them up.  She could scarcely believe they were free of The
Good Shepherd Maternity Home.  "We did it," she repeated, her elation
growing.  "But I'll feel better once we put some distance between us
and that hellhole."  Terri said nothing.  "Terri?"

"My water just broke."

Austin hunched lower into his bomber jacket to ward off the cold as he
and Tony walked up the alley toward the rental house.  Part of him
looked forward to another twelve-hour shift with Cato.  He felt
energized when he was around her--more alive and alert, constantly
challenged, not to mention perennially turned on.  On the other hand,
it was pure torture being so close to her and not being able to touch
her.  By the end of his shift yesterday they'd both been a little
cranky.  He worried that by the end of this assignment, Caro would be
thoroughly sick of him, and any chance they had of connecting would be
dead.

Maybe that was just as well, he told himself.  It probably wouldn't
work out, for the reasons she'd brought up on New Year's Day.  He would
rather count Cato among his friends than end up with bitterness between
them.

"Are we taking the van out today?"  Tony asked.

"Good.  I'm sick of sitting around, waiting for something to happen."

"You and me both," Austin said.  They slipld through h the back gate
and onto the patio, where Austin tap'll on the glass door.

Corporal Penny Hart, one of the best-liked dettivs working in CAPERS,
answered.  "Hi, guys," she said cheerfully.  She was big and loud and
redheaded, and she could be counted on to come up with a
tcusion-breaking wise rack Austin had felt perfectly at ease leaving
Cato in Penny's competent hands overnight.  "Ali's quiet, I trust."

"Boringly so, I'm afraid," Penny said.  "There's doughnuts in the
kitchen.  Where's the car?  I want to get home in time to see my
urchins before they're off to daycare."

"Parked on the street at the east end of' the alley."  Austin handed
her the key.  They tried to make the shift change as unobtrusively as
possible, but he could oaly hope Odell wasn't watching the back door.
Seeing two men arrive and a woman leave at seven in the morning would
completely blow their cover.  "Where's Caro?"

"In the shower," Penny said.  "She'll be along in a minute.  I'm outta
here.  And I hope I won't have to see you tonight."  Austin couldn't
agree more.

When' Caro appeared a half hour later, Austin and Tony were seated at
the kitchen table cleaning up the last of the doughnuts.  She was
wearing a long pink sweater Austin had seen on her before, but instead
of.  her usual black trousers or full skirt, she had on a pair of
wildly patterned tights that showed off her slender legs to perfection.
Her hair was pulled into a ponytail with a bright pink ribbon.  She
made Austin think of a fancy confection behind the window at a candy
shop--and he was the little boy pressing his nose against the glass.

"Is this teenage fish enough?"  she asked, holding her arms out and
twirling around.

"You look great," Tony said in a tone of voice out-of-kilter with his
customary big-brother attitude.  Austin stared into his coffee, not
trusting himself to speak.

"In that ease," Cato said, oblivious to the effect she was having on
her male colleagues, "will someone wire me up?"  She held out the body
mike and a roll of tape.

Tony and Austin exchanged a look of purely male understanding.  "I'il
do it," Tony said, much to Austin's relief.  He didn't completely trust
himself to lift Caro's sweater and touch hr warm skin just now, not
even in the line of duty.  He didn't particularly want to watch Tony
touching her, either, so instead, he busied himself pouting more
coffee, adding cream and sugar, and stir ring until he thought the
spoon might dissolve.

"There, I think that'll do it," Tony said.

"Great.  Hey, did you pigs eat all the doughnuts?"  Caro asked,
wiggling her shoulders as she accustomed herself to her new hard
wrong.

The evidence didn't lie.  An empty bakery box sat on the tble,

with only a few powdered-sugar flex ks in the bottom.

"Er, uh," Tony said.

"We thought you'd already eaten," Austin said, quickly searching
through the cabinets for a likely substitute.  "Here, how about some
Twinkies?"

She wrinkled her nose.  "Gross.  What I'd really like is some shredded
wheat and skim milk.  Any chance?"

After pocketing one of the packages of Twinkles, Austin opened another
cabinet.  "Just Cocoa Puffs.  And no milk.  I sorta forgot that."

"Okay, I'm making a grocery list.  That's the Plan, tight?  Drive to
the grocery store and hope {)dell tries to nab me?  Might as well make
the ttip count for something--in case it doesn't work, that is."

"Your faith in my plan is under whelming Austin said.

Cato stole the pen from Tony's shirt pocket and began scribbling on a
paper towel.  "Milk.  Cereal--something-non-chocolate.  Veggies for
salad.  Salad dressing.  Cheese.  Chicken--"

"Hey, let's not get carried away," Austin objexted.  "I have to justify
the costs of this operation, you know."

"I'll spring for the chicken," Cato said.  "I'll make a stir-fry for
dinner.  How does that sound?"

"You cook?"  Austin asked, surprised.  Somehow he didn't think of Cato
as the domestic type.

"Damn tight I cook."  She added tice and soy sauce to the list.  "How
soon can we leave?"

Austin looked at his watch.  "All of the girls were taken between
eight-thirty and eleven in the morning, so I guess we can leave in an
hour or so.  We'll need to transfer some equipment into the van."

"Okay," Cato said.  "Anybody want tea?"  She stood and went to the
cabinet where she kept the herbal tea.  When she reacnea up to' open
the door, she froze.  "Uh-oh.  I think the antenna wire came loose."

Austin was the closest to her.  He couldn't avoid touching her this
time, not unless he wanted to make an issue of it.  He went to her and
gingerly lifted the sweater, levealing her slender torso.  She was
wearing a modest sports bra, the kind some women wore in public during
the summer, but he still felt like he was invading Caro's privacy.
"Yeah, the wire came loose, all right.  Hold up the sweater up for a
minute," he instructed her.  "Tony, could you hand me that tape?  I
think if we give the wire a little more slack, you won't have any
problem.  Just be careful how you move."  In a couple of minutes he had
the problem corrected.  He could only hope Caro hadn't felt his hands
shaking.

By eight-thirty they had the van outfitted for surveillance.  Behind
the front seat, the wildly painted vehicle had only one window on each
side, heavily tinted, through which they could watch.  their
surroundings.  They wouldn't us: a radio, in ease Odell had a police
scanner.  Instead they would rely on Austin's portable phone if they
needed to call in for backup.  They had a camera with a. telephoto lens
for photographing any suspicious persons, and of course the receiver
that would pick up signals from Caro's body mike.

With Tony and Austin secreted in the back where no one could see them,
Caro pushed the button on the automatic garage door opener and backed
out of the driveway.

Kroger's Food Store was less than a mile from the house, and the
parking lot was packed.

"Wait until you can find a space dose to the door," Austin said.  "I
dont want to have to sprint across a quarter-mile of parking lot if you
get into trouble."

"I know, I know," Caro said irritably.  She drove around in circles
until she found someone pulling out of a desirable space.

"Remember, take your time," Austin coached her.  "You dont want to look
like you're in any particular hurry.  Try to linger in the most
deserted aisles, and especially in the parking lot when you have your
groceries.  And for heaven's sake, dont let a bag boy carry your sacks.
 And if you get into trouble, remember the phrase--"

"I know, Austin," she said.  "I'm supposed to say "Please dont hurt
me."  We've been over this.  I'm not a complete idiot."

"I didn't say you were.  I just dont want to leave anything to
chance."

"Well, give me a little credit.  You act like this is the first time
I've ever worked undercover."

"Oh, excuse me.  I forgot.  You have all this tons of experience, and
I'm just this green yahoo from Auto Theft--"

"Hey, guys," Tony interrupted.  "I dont think we're accomplishing much
with this discussion.  Can you save it till later?"

Cato sighed deeply.  "You're right.  Let's get this show on the road.
Unless you have any more last-minute instructions?"  She looked over
her shoulder at Austin, her hazel eyes challenging him.

He refused to take the bait.  "No, I think everything's under
control."

"Good luck, sweetheart."  Tony reached up and squeezed her shoulder."

She smiled for him.  "Thanks."  Without even a glance in Austin's
direction, she got out of the van and slammed the door.

Austin expelled a long breath as he and Tony took up their positions in
front of the window that faced the store's entrance.  They were both
silent as they watched Cato, walking with a jaunty hip-swinging gait,
cross through the traffic and disappear inside.

"Don't take it so hard," Tony said.  "She gets ornery when she's
nervous, that's all.  She didn't mean anything by it."

Austin didn't reply.

"You can't take her seriously when she lights into you like that," Tony
continued.  "If you just ignore her, in five minutes her mood will
change."

"I dont need lessons on how to get along with Caro, thanks."  "Then I
guess she's the one who needs lessons," Tony quipped.

P us ting was suddenly ashamed of himself.  "Hey, man, I'm sorry.

I'm just stressed out about this whole thing, you know?"  "Yeah, I
know," Tony said affably.  "Don't sweat it."

Sounds from the grocery store, picked up by Caro's body mike, came in
over the receiver.  Austin fiddled with the dials, fine-tuning the
signal, until he could even hear announcements made over the
loudspeaker: "Price check on aisle nine."  "Check approval on aisle
five."  And periodically Caro would talk to herself, as they planned:
"0oh, the new.  Seventeen, yip pee she said, having obviously stopped
by the magazine rack.

She kept a running commentary on every purchase--lettuce, mushrooms,
bell peppers in the produce section, yogurt, milk and cheese.  Then she
reached the cereal aisle.  "Now where in the hell is the shredded
wheat?"  she asked herself.

"Yeah, by all means," Tony added.  "Maybe that's why she's in such a
bad mood, She needs her fiber."

Austin chuckled.

"Ah, there it is," Caro said.  "Wouldn't you know it, top shelf.  Why
dont they design grocery stores for shot peo--" The receiver abruptly
went silent.

Both Tony and Austin turned to stare at the ominously quiet re-eeiver.
"What the--" Tony said, banging on the case with his fist.

"Aw, hell, you know what happened?"  Austin said.  "She reached up and
pulled that antenna wire out again.  Damn piece-of-crap body mike.  If
Narcotics wasn't so greedy ... okay, what do you think?  Should we blow
our cover and go in after her?"

"It's my second day on the job and you're asking me?"  Tony objected.

Tony was right.  This was Austin's operation, and it was his decision
to make.  "Okay, it's awkward being out of voice contact with Care. But
chances are nothing's going to happen to her in side the store, right? 
And we're watching the front door of the store, the only way in or out.
She can't leave the store under any circumstances without us seeing
her."

"Right," Tony said.

"So we just won't take our eyes off the store entrance."  "Sounds
reasonable."  "Okay."

They spent the next ten minutes staring intently out the small window.
Tony was nervously chewing on a piece of grape bubble-gum.

"Do you have to chew that stuff?"  Austin asked irritably.  "Christ, I
could smell it a mile away."

"Would you rather I smoke?  Those are the alternatives."

"Never mind.  Hey, what's that?"

"It looks like a Diet Coke truck to me," Tony said.

"Yeah, but what's it doing stopping right in front of the damn store?
C'mon, move it, you lard-ass truck."

The truck driver opened his door and dim bed out, apparently intent on
unloading some soft drinlm, oblivious to the fact that his vehicle
completely blocked the detectives' view of the front door.

"Ah, hell, that's it," Austin said, banging his fist against the side
of the van.  "Let's move.  We can't see her, we can't hear her.
Anything could happen.  We can't worry about blowing our cover

11OW."

Tony was in complete agreement.  They climbed out of the back of the
van and strode purposefully around the truck.  Austin's stomach was
tied up in knots, and the feeling wouldn't ease until he got Care in
his sights again.  Just as he stepped on the mat activating the
automatic door, Tony called out to him, his voice filled with alarm.

"Hey, Lomax, look here."

Austin turned.  Tony was pointing to a plastic grocery sack lying on
the ground, some of its contents spilled onto the sidewalk.  Austin
took two giant steps and reached the bag, grabbing it up in

his hands.  On top was a Seventeen magazine and a box of shredded
wheat.

"Oh, God.  Oh, God."  He'd just fallen into the worst nightmare of his
life.

Chapter 16

Please dont hurt me," Cato said.  The muzzle of the woman's38 jabbed
her in the side.  She repeated the phrase, more insistently, as the
woman--Odell, no doubt--calmly walked her down the sidewalk and around
the corner of the building.  Cato panicked for a moment.  Wasn't that
the code?  Austin's plan had been to move in the instant he heard Cato
say those four words.  Where is he?

"Please dont hurt me," she said one more time.

"I won't hurt you if you'll just be quiet," Odell said soothingly. 
"I'm doing you a favor, you'll see.  Now, be a good girl, Marie, and
get in the truck."

They had arrived at a white Suburban parked around the corner from the
store's main entrance.  There were a few other cars parked around them,
but no people.  No one could see them.

Caro's every instinct told her to use her training and defend herself;
blithely climbing into a strange car with a crazed woman toting a gun
was suicidal.  But struggling might put her in more danger, Caro
reasoned.  And surely Austin would be here any moment.  He was probably
just waiting until Odell moved away from her, so as not to risk having
the woman panic and pull the trigger.

Caro took her time climbing into the back seat of the truck.
Reflexively she craned her neck around, hoping vainly to see some sign
of a rescue.  That's when Odell shoved a cloth over Caro's face.

Now she did fight, screaming and shoving an elbow into Odell's
well-padded middle.  But the older woman was built like a tank, and
Cato was no match for her, especially as her strength waned under the
Onslaught of the noxious vapors she was forced to inhale.  By the time
she felt the prick of a needle in her arm, she was too weak to fight.
Darkness quickly engulfed her.

Odell was trembling as she put her truck into gear.  That was the
closest she'd come yet to losing control during one of her rescue
missions.  She'd thought Marie Plummet would be an easy target.  The
gift was not only small, but also quiet and timid, according to
Virginia.  And she was staying alone in her house, so no one would miss
her for a while.  The maneuver should have been a cinch.

Odell had considered just walking fight up to the house and ringing the
doorbell, as she'd done with Julie Yates.  But she hadn't liked the
setup of the neighborhood.  The houses were too close together, and
they all had garages in front and roomy driveways, so a car parked at
the curb might have stood out.  Anyway, not every young gift was as
gullible as Julie, who hadn't hesitated to open the door to a
stranger.

So, starting early.  that morning, Odell had parked around the corner
in a church parking lot that was dotted with other cars.  The spot had
afforded her an unobstructed view.  of the Plumruer house, and she'd
used binoculars to keep an eye on it.  Fortunately, she hadn't needed
to wait long.  When the van had pulled out of the garage at a little
after nine o'clock, Odell followed it.

The grocery store parking lot wasn't an ideal location, however.  There
was too much activity, too many people around.  But Odell didn't have
time to wait for another opportunity.  She didn't like staying away
from the home for any longer than necessary.  Henry could only be
trusted so far.

Because the parking lot was so visible, she'd decided not to pull the
same seam she'd used with Amanda Arkin.  It was too likely someone
would see them struggling in the front seat of Marie's van.  Instead
she had approached Marie as she'd exited the grocery store, her arms
full, preoccupied as she searched her purse for her car keys.  A gun
shoved into the girl's fibs, coupled with a terse command that she not
say a word, had done the tdek nicely.

But she hadn't counted on the deceptively small young woman's uncommon
strength.  Once Made had finally found her courage, she'd fought like a
pit bull, screaming and kicking and jabbing with elbows sharp as
p'zkes.  Thank goodness they'd been well away from any potential
witnesses.  A rag containing a bit.  of ether, held over Marie's face,
had muffled the girl's screams and then put her out just long enough
that Odell could give her an injection of a strong tranquilizer.
Neither drug was likely to harm the unborn baby.

Once Marie was unconscious, Odell had breathed a sigh of relief.  She'd
quickly tied the girl's wrists together behind her back with a nylon
stocking, then arranged her on the floor of the back seat and covered
her with a blanket.

The worst was over now, she thought as she exited the parking lot via
the alley behind the grocery store.  No one was following her.  An
added benefit was that she wouldn't have to dispose of Marie's vehicle.
Once again, the Good Lord had protected Odell's mission.  She was
cheered by that thought.

She didn't stop looking in the rearview mirror until she was well away
from Dallas.  Only then did her muscles gradually relax her jaw
unclench.  As she passed through the town of River Rock, ten minutes
away from home, her thoughts turned to her other prob-lena.  That
unpleasant business with Amanda the night before had upset Odell
terribly.  During the last week or so, the girl had been a model of
obedience.  Why had she suddenly turned crazy like that?

Odell didn't like putting any of the girls in the basement.  But there
was nothing like a night of sleeping on the cold, hard floor in
pitch-black darkness to give a young girl plenty of time to ponder her
sins.  Such harsh punishment wasn't called for often, but whenever
Odell resorted to it, it worked like a charm.  She was confident Amanda
would emerge from the basement penitent.

As for Terri, there wasn't much hope for that little tramp.  Odell
probably shouldn't have put her down there with Amanda, but she'd let
her temper get the best of her.  Ordinarily she didn't allow the girls
to spend time together like that.  Not that she worried about them
confiding in each other, or hatching any kind of plan.  First they
would have to get over their anger at each other, and that would take
longer than a night.  No, she was more worried that they would hurt
each other, and with Terri so near term, too.

Well, what was done was done.  Odell had left before dawn this morning,
but last night she'd instructed Henry to bring Terri and Amanda
upstairs firSt.  thing when he got up, and to make sure they ate some
bkfast.  By now both girls we probably resting in their rooms,
reflecting on the simple comforts they'd done without last night.
Hopefully it would be a long time before either girl defied her
again.

Odell pulled up to the front gates and got out of the car to unlock
them.  She was glad to be back at the Good Shepherd Home, as always.
She felt completely safe here in this secluded spot of woods.  She had
chosen this place as much for its out-of-the-way location as for the
size and layout of the house itself.  Her property was at the end of a
long, twisting, narrow lane that was clearly marked Private, No
Trespassing.  There was almost no chance anyone would stumble onto the
home by accident, which was exactly how she liked it.

She drove the truck through the gates, honked the horn to summon Hemy,
then got out to padlock the gate again.  By the time she'd driven all
the way up to the house, Henry' still hadn't appeared.  Bella greeted
her enthusiastically, but Phoebe was noticeably absent.

"Henry!"  she hollered through the open car window, honking once more.
Still no response.  "Oh, for heaven's sake, "that boy will be the death
of me," she muttered as she climbed out of the car.  "Probably watching
TV, and has it turned up so loud he can't hear me."  '

Her apprehension grew as she entered the house, still calling for
Henry, and got no answer.  It was quiet as a graveyard.  Something felt
terribly wrong.

Odell checked Amanda's room first.  It was empty.

A girl named Kendra occupied the room next to Amanda's.  Odell unlocked
the door and entered, startling the girl, who had been lying on her bed
reading.  "What's going on?"  Odell demanded.

Kendra, a blonde so fair and pale she almost wasn't there, looked
bewildered.  "I dont know.  What time is it?  I need to go to the
bathroom."

"Use the bedpan," Odell said tersely.  "I dont have time to take anyone
to the bathroom right now."  She slammed and locked the door.
Apparently Henry hadn't even let the girls out to use the facilities.

Next, Odell checked the basement.  Empty.  She was about to head back
up the stairs when she noticed the window behind the furnace.  The
screen was missing, and a metal folding chair had been pulled up to the
wall under the window.  Even as she gave it a' closer inspection, she
already knew what had happened.

This can't be true, she thought.  Those two little hellions couldn't
have figured a way out of this place.  How would they have gotten over
the fence?

But apparently they had.  That explained why Odell had heard Bella
barking last night.  That explained why Henry had dropped everything
and left with Phoebe in tow.  She hoped that for once that worthless
bloodhound would earn her keep.

There was no note from Henry, which didn't surPrise her.  He could
barely write, anyway.  Then she remembered Wanda.  Odell had hammered
it into her nephew's head that if there was any kind of serious trouble
and he needed to reach her, he should leave a message with the
answering service in Dallas.

She fished the pocket-sized cellular phone out of her purse and called
Wanda.  The woman seemed unusually flustered, and it took her an
uncommonly long time to search for Odell's messages, but in the end
there weren't any.

Odell could think of only one course of action.  She would get her
shotgun and her dog and set out in search of the runaways.  The was
still a chance she could find them before they summoned the
authorities.  Two young girls wouldn't make much progress in these vast
woods at night, especially with Terri so close to her due date.  And
Bella, a former search-and-rescue dog, was a good tracker.

It was only when Odell was outside again that she remembered Marie
Phiminer.  She couldn't'leave the girl unconscious in her back seat.
She could awaken at any time.,

In the name of speed, Odell grabbed the unconscious girl under the arms
and dragged her out of the truck.  Marie murmured something incoherent.
Oh, Lord, she would wake up soon, Odell thought, and she didn't have
another syringe prepared.

There was a utfiity closet just off Odell's office, with a latch on the
outside.  That would have to do.  She dragged Marie up the porch steps
and inside, huffing and puffing all the way.  Then it was just a few
more feet to tNe closet.  Octell maneuvered her inside the small space,
propped her up against the wall, then closed and locked the door.

That matter taken care of, she took the pillow from Amanda's room, gave
Bella a good sniff of it, then set out on foot.  At least it wasn't
terribly cold or wet, she thought as Bella roamed well ahead of her,
zigzagging through the trees as she'd been trained.

Less than half an hour later, Odell heard the familiar haying that
indicated Bella had found something.  "Odell quickened her pace,
praying the shepherd hadn't shnp]y treed a possum.  Soon she came upon
a small house--no more than a shack, really--with boarded up windows.
There was no clear path leading to it, indicating it hadn't been lived
in for many years.  Bella stood outside the door, which was hanging by
only one hinge, and barked sharPly.

"Good girl, Bella," Odell said.  If the girls had taken shelter here,
this would be an easier job than she thought.  She opened the door and
peered into the dim interior.  It took a moment for ey?  to adjust to
the darkness.  Then she saw a huddled form, wrapped in a blanket, in
the corner of the room.

It was Terri, and her eyes were wide with sheer terror.

"Well, what do we have here?"  Odell asked smugly.

Terri clutched the blanket more closely around her.  "What does it look
like?  I'm having a baby," she replied with false bravado.  "You just
keep away from me, you old witch.  You aren't gonna hurt me or my--oh!"
Her face contorted with pain.

"Good Lord, you're in labor," Odell said.  The realization jolted
her.

"No kidding," Terri said when she could talk again.  "Where's
Amanda?"

"She went to get help.  You'll be in jail by tonight."

"That may well be," Odell agreed pragmatically.  "But first things
first.  We have to get you out of this filthy place.  You can't have a
baby here."  No telling what ungodly gems were lurking in this place,
ready to infect a defenseless newborn.

"Try telling the baby th--" Terri was cut off again by another
contraction.

The pains had been only seconds apart, Odell realized.  There was no
way she could get Terri back to the home and the sanitary delivery room
there.  The idea of delivering a baby under these conditions appalled
Odell, but she didn't want to frighten Terri more than was necessary.

"Let's at least go outside where I can see what I'm doing," she said,
reaching a hand toward Terri.  "Come on, you'll have to stand.  I can't
carry you."

Terri cringed.  "Get away from me!  I dont want you delivering my baby.
 I can do it myself."

"Oh, Terri, now, dont be silly.  I've delivered hundreds of babies.
I've been a midwife for almost thirty years."

"You mean you've been selling babies and killing the mothers for thirty
years."

"Killing--what in heaven's name are you talking about?"

"I figured it out--ohhhh, dammit, this hurts."

Odell ignored the cursing, still reeling from what Terri had said.  Did
she actually believe Odell would devote herself to saving babies' lives
only to kill the mothers?

"You take the babies away," Terri said when the contraction had passed,
"and then the mothers disappear.  If you let them go free, they'd have
turned you in.  So you have to kill them.  Besides, I saw Henry putting
Jennifer into your truck, and she looked like she was.  dead.  He drove
her away and we never saw her again."

"My, dont you have an active imagination.  No wonder you've tried so
many times to leave the home.  Terri, I can assure you I haven't killed
anyone.  After each girl gives birth, she's given a sedative.  Then
Henry drives them far away from here and leaves them some place where
they'll be found and returned to their families.  And the only
reason--dont fight the pain.  Breathe.  That's a girl.  The only reason
I haven't been caught is because none of you girls know where the home
is located.  Think about it.  Do you know where we are?"

"Near some place called River Rock."

The correct answer surprised Odell.  "And how did you find that out?"
'

"Henry told Amanda."

"Henry."  Odell shook her head.  She'd known that Henry had a soft spot
for Amanda, but she had firmly believed that Amanda was too afraid of
him to cozy up to him.  Who in their right mind wouldn't be a little
afraid of Henry?  "Come on, Terri, come with me out of this dirty
place.  I'll put my jacket on the ground for you to lie on.  We've got
work to do."

"Why are you being so nice to me all a sudden?"  Terri asked, her eyes
filled with mistrust.

"Am I so awful to you at other times?"

"Yeah," she answered without hesitation.

Odeil couldn't help smiling.  "I guess you would see me as an old
witch.  But there is something about the birth of a child that brings
out the softie in me.  When I'm delivering a child, I really feel that
I'm traveling the path Cod has set for me."

Well, you better start traveling, then, 'cause this kid is here!"

Austin went through the appropriate motions.  He'd questioned every
employee and customer at the grocery store, none of whom had seen
anything of consequence; he'd called for backup to help him comb the
neighborhood.  Outwardly he was the picture of calm efficiency.  But he
was running on automatic.  Inside he was numb and cold.

He wished like hell he'd never suggested that Care go undercover.  He
wished he hadn't been so worried about blowing their cover and had gone
looking for her the moment the microphone had failed.  He even wished
he'd never been given this case.  Better still, he should be back in
Auto Theft.  Here he'd been trying to make a big splash, and instead
he'd botched everything up and put a colleague in mortal danger.

Worry for Caro's welfare consumed him.  Was she hurt?  What if Odell
discovered the body mike?  As long as Odell believed Care to be a
pregnant leenager, no harm would come to her.  Austin had to believe
that.  But if Caro's cover was blown, what then?  If Odeil had so
little regard for life that she dumped a young girl's body in a lake,
could murder be that big of a jump for her?

If anything happened to Cato... God, he hadn't realized how much he'd
come to care for her until this moment.  He wished theE hadn't parted
company this morning on such a sour note.  The minute he found her, he
would make amends for everything--and he would tell her just how he
felt.  The fact that he might not get that chance pressed at him from
all directions.

No one else seemed to be condemning Austin for the blunder.  Even Tony,
who was closer to Cato than anyone Austin knew, hadn't tried to point a
finger of blame.  Although Tony was obviously troubled by Caro's
disappearance, he was applying himself to the job at hand.  In fact,
everyone around here was ready to jump in at the slightest provocation.
That's what police officers did when one of their own was in trouble.

Unfortunately, there wasn't much to do beyond canvassing the
neighborhood around the house to see if anyone had noticed anything out
of the ordinary.  Cato, like the rest, had vanished into thin air.

Austin's phone buzzed.  He was on it in an instant.

"Corporal Lomax, there's a woman here to see you.  Actually, she asked
for Cato first, then you.  She won't give her name, but she says it's
important."

"I'm coming."

He made his way to the public entrance to CAPERS, hoping against hope
he was about to get a break.  As soon as he opened the metal security
door leading into the vestibule he saw her, a petite, attractive blond
woman somewhere in her thirties.  She had her arms folded and her head
bowed, looking very unsure of herself.

"Hi, I'm Corporal Lomax," he said, trying to sound relaxed and friendly
when he was feeling just the opposite.  "How can I help you?"

The woman offered her perfectly maniCUred hand, which shook badly. "I'm
Chloe Krill.  My neighbor told me you and another officer stopped by
the house while my husband and I were out of town.  Is... is there a
problem?"

By the looks of her, the woman was terrified.  Austin took a chance. "I
think you know what the problem is."  When she didn't replY, he added,
"The baby?"

At that, Chloe burst into noisy tears.

Ah, hell, this was all he needed.  The receptionist wordlessly handed
Austin a wad of tissue, which he passed to Chloe.  "Come on, now, Mrs.
Krill, there'.S no.  n'for this.  Everything's g ing to work out
okay."

He put a comforting arm around her frail shoulders.

"D-Don's gonna k-kill me," she said.

"He'll understand," Austin soothed, though from what he knew of Don, he
doubted the man understood anything but his own needs.  "He'll realize
you're just following your conscience.  Right?"  He led her back
through the maze of desks and cubbyholes into his own space, sat her
down in his chair and fetched her a cup of water.

"Don told me the whole story last night," she said when she'd composed
herself.  "The adoption wasn't legal.  We bought our baby.  Justin's
natural mother was Marcy Phelps, that girl they pulled out of the lake.
She died in childbirth."

Austin could take little enjoyment in having his and Caro's theory
confirmed.  "I know this is very difficult for you," he said.  "I
appreciate your coming forward, and I assure you I'll do everything I
can to protect you from criminal charges--"

"I dont care about criminal charges!"  she said passionately.  "I just
want to keep my baby.  What if Marcy's family tries to take Justin away
from us?"

"I doubt it will come to that," Austin said, more because he needed to
calm Chloe down than anything.  "No matter what the consequences are,
the fact that you came forward will weigh in your favor.  But right now
I need more information from you.  I dont have time to explain the
whole situation, but there are lives hanging in the balance.  Who sold
the baby to you?"

"Our lawyer, Travis Beaman, handled it for us," she said.  "When Don
found out Travis had declared bankruptcy and then fled the country, he
got really nervous.  That's when I insisted he tell me everything.  He
had no idea I planned to go straight to the police."

"The woman who sold us the baby is Travis's sister, Odell Bea-man.  She
lives in east Texas somewhere, I think.  She runs a home for unwed
mothers."  \\

Finally!  A first and last name.  Austin wrote down the name, already
mentally making a list of the next few steps he could now take.  "Do
you know anything else about her?  Her age, what kind of ear She
drives?  Do you have a phone number, anything?"

Chloe shook her head helplessly.  "We never actually met her."  Austin
smiled, anyway.  He asked a few more routine questions, but it seemed
that Mrs.  Krill had related everything she knew.  "That's okay, this
will help taemendously.  I can't thank you enough, Mrs.  Krill," he
said as he escorted her to the exit.  "You re.  not going to arrest
me?"

Even if he'd had time, he didn't have the heart.  "I dont think that's
necessary.  Go home, now, and try not to worry.  Someone will be
getting in touch with you."

She gave him a watery smile, then turned and walked away.  Austin
literally sprinted back to his desk and got on the phone with the
Department of Motor Vehicles.  Unfortunately there was no driver's
license on file, but Odell Beaman did have a vehicle registered. Within
minutes he had her license plate number and a description of her car--a
white Suburban.  Unfortunately, the address on file was that of her
brother.  Travis Beatnan's house had already been checked out.  It was
empty.

He immediately put out an APB.  He was just hanging up when Tony
approached his desk, looking very agitated.

"Phone company security just called," he said, slapping a piece of
paper onto the desktop.  "Our friend Odell blew it.  She made a phone
call to the answering service without doing whatever it is she normally
does to cover her tracks.  She was using a cellular phone, but they've
narrowed it down to a half-mile radius.  The repeater that transmitted
the call is located near River Rock."

River Rock--of course.  Justin Krill's place of birth, as indicated on
his birth certificate.  "Great," Austin said.  "Get on the phone and
see if you can rouse some law enforcement authorities there."  He
related the information he'd just gotten from Chloe Krill.  "See if you
can pinpoint an address.  Go through the utility companies.  She has to
use electricity."  As he issued orders, he fished through his desk for
a road atlas..

"I'll get fight on it," Tony said.  "Where are you going?"  "I'm
heading east.  Tell the locals I'm coming, and update me the minute you
find out anything.  I'll probably need backup.  Hell, call in the FBI
and let them take over.  I just want to make sure this thing's done
fight from now on."

Chapter 17

Caro awoke slowly, disoriented.  Her stomach clenched with nausea, and
she was glad she hadn't eaten breakfast.  Breakfast,..shredded wheat.
She'd gone to the grocery store .... It came back to her all at once,
and she tasted fear sharp and bitter on her tongue.  Something had gone
terribly wrong, and Odell had taken her hostage.

Stay calm, she told herself, tamping down the Urge to scream.  Okay, so
she'd been drugged and stashed someplace small and dark with her hands
tied behind her back.  At least she wasn't dead, or seriously injured.
And her wits were slowly returning as the fear receded.  Apparently the
cavalry wasn't coming to the rescue.  It was up to Cato to escape.

"Safe as a babe in arms, my Aunt Fanny," she grumbled, recalling
Austin's assurances.  When she saw him she would punch his lights out.
Holding that pleasant thought in her mind, she focused her attention on
getting herself free.

With a little effort she managed to maneuver to her feet, although she
was still dizzy from whatever drag Odell had given her.  She leaned
against the wall as another wave of nausea washed over her.  When it
passed, she began inching her way to the left.  Two baby-steps later
she encountered a row of shelves.  A few steps to the right were more
shelves'.  There was a door in front of her, which appeared to be the
only exit.  She could see a thin line o!  light beneath it.

She turned her back to it and explmvxl with her bound hands, but she
couldn't find a knob or latch of any kind.  Okay, I'll try something
else.  She stepped back, took a deep breath, then threw her weight
against the door, shoulder first.  Pain shot all the way down her arm,
but the door didn't budge.

"Hmm, not like in the movies," she murmured.  She would break bones
long before the door gave way.

If she could just get her hands untied!  Bur her bonds were tight, and
she couldn't reach the knots.  maybe there was something in this closet
she could use to cut the cords.  With her back to the shelves she felt
around, locating a ball of twine, masking tape, a hammer, an open
package of ball-point pens--but no scissors or hacksaw or utility
knife.

She fumbled around some more, chancing on a box of some sort.  Curious,
she pushed and pulled at it until she got it open.  Matches!  Maybe she
could burn through the cord around her wrists.  Then again, maybe she
could burn down the whole building.  But she had to risk it.  What
other choice did she have?

In such an awkward position, she had a hard time just figuring out how
to strike one of the matches.  That accomplished, it took several tries
to turn the match so that the flame even came near the cords.

"Come On, come on."  The heat gw too intense and she let go of the
match.  Then she smelled an odd acrid slench and realized her sweater
was on fire.  "Ouch!  Dam mR dammit, dam reit She dropped the box and
backed up against the wall, smothering the flames--but not before she
burned her hands and her back.

For a few moments, the pain blocked out all other conscious thought.
Then she felt a kind of numbness taking over--probably her endorphins
kicking in.  She wondered how badly she'd injured herself.

There was nothing to do but try again.  She squatted down and retrieved
the matches, grit led her teeth against the pain, and struck another
one.  Finally, when she was about to run out of matches, not to mention
choke from all the smoke she'd generated, the ties gave way and her
hands were abrnpfiy freed.

She felt around on her body, frantically searching for any burning
embers she might have missed.  When she'd assuxl herself that nothing
else was On the she automatically checked the antenna wire on 'the
body mike.  It was disconnected, and it might have been that way since
the grocery store.  No wonder Austin hadn't rushed to the rescue--he'd
never heard her gI've the signal.  All fight, so she wouldn't punch him
when she saw him.  Suddenly she wanted to see him, to touch him, to let
him comfort her There was no time' to feel sorry for herself.  She had
to get this closet door open before Odell returned.

With her increased mobility she was able to explore the higher shelves.
Miracle of miracles, she found a flashlight that worked.  She waved the
beam frantically around the closet, trying to banish the darkness.  And
there, right in front of her face, was a pair of scissors.  She wished
she'd found them before she'd roasted herself.

The door indeed had no knob or handle on the inside.  But by peering
through the crocks at the light from outside, she could see where the
outside latch was located.  It should be simple, she told herself. Most
likely a junk closet wouldn't have a sophisticated lock.

She didn't have a credit card, but perhaps the stiff plastic from the
package of pens would do the trick.  She worked the plastic free of the
cardboard, dumping the pens on the floor.  With the scissors she cut
out a flat piece, the task made more difficult by the fact that her
left hand didn't seem to work very efficiently.  She knew then that her
burns were more severe than she'd thought.

When she had a nice, flat piece of plastic, she jammed it into the
space between the door and the facing, just beneath the latch, and
worked it upward.  She was rewarded with a rasp of metal against metal
as the latch lifted and the door fell open.

The sense of accomplishment was almost overwhelming.  Her eyes filled
with tears, whether from relief or the pain of her hands or the smoke,
she didn't know.  But she didn't allow her elation to rule her for
long.  She was far from home free.

She was in a little office of some sort, and although the light was on,
there was no one around.  No phone, either.  She searched through the
desk, finding a key ring with about a dozen keys, each one numbered.
Figuring this might be useful, she took it.  Then she pulled a small
automatic gun--a Walther PPK/S .380'-from a leg holster concealed
inside her boot.  She was glad now she'd decided to carry the slim,
stainless-steel weapon, although Austin probably would have had a fit
if he'd known about it.  With gun in hand, she began searching the rest
of the premises.

She was in a house, she decided, but a damn big one.  The front
rooms--kitchen, living room, dining room--were deserted.  In another
section of the house she found what looked like a doctor's examination
room.  Was this, then, The Good Shepherd Home?  Whatever it was, it
appeared to be deserted.

Peering around each corner, she made her way to the back of the house.
She found a long, dimly lit hallway lined with six doors.  The first
one was open, and the small bedroom, hardly big enough to

2O5

turn around in, was empty.  The next door was locked from the
outside.

"It's about time," an impatient female voice called from inside the
room.  "Hurry up, I have got to go pee."

"Hello?  Who's there?"  Cato called, surprised to have found a live
person.

There was a long pause.  "Kenalta.  Who are You?"

"I'm a police officer."  Making an educated guess, Cato tried the key
marked number two.  The deadbolt slid free and the door opened.

A pretty, pale blond girl stared inereclulously at Cato, then at the
gun.  "You aren't going to shoot me, are you?"

"No, I'm the police.  Are you being held here against your will?"  Cato
asked what seemed an obvious question, but she had to be sure.

"Me and a bunch of other girls."  All at once hope suffused

Kendra's face.  "You're gonna get us out of here?"  "That's the idea.
How many girls are there?"  "Uh, nine, I think."

Nine?  Oh, Lord.  Cato feared she was about to become a one-woman SWAT
team.

Kendra peered nervously around Cato.  "Where's Odell and Henry?"

"I dont know.  Which means we'd better hurry."

The next ten minutes were sheer bedlam as Cato unlocked first one door,
then another, freeing three additional girls in various stages of
pregnancy.  Despite her attempts to keep them together, they ignored
her and headed for the bathroom.  She let them, because she figured
they wouldn't listen to her, anyway, so long as their bladders were
calling.

Cato was relieved to discover Julie Yates in one of the rooms, but
Amanda was still to be found.

Upstairs was a similar hallway with five more rooms.  Two were.  empty,
but the others held more captives.  Cato opened the last locked door,
disappointed that the girl inside was not Amanda.  She.  herded all the
girls downstairs, rounded up the strays and quickly counted heads.
"That's only seven," she said.  "Where are the other two?"

There was a moment of contemplative silence until one of them asked,
"Where's Amanda?"

"And Terri.  I dont see Terri."

"They slept in the basement last night, remember?"

Cato quickly checked the basement and, finding it empty, she gathered
her little flock together and ordered them not to move until she
returned.  When it was time to run, she didn't want to have to track
down any stragglers.

With her gun drawn, she eased out the front door.  The huge farmhouse
was surrounded by an eight-foot fence topped with barbed whe, and the
front gate--the only entrance to the property, she soon discovered--was
securely padlocked.  She knew without even trying that none of the
little keys on the pilfered key ring would fit the huge Master lock.
"Now what?"

She heard a noise behind her and whirled around, but it was only
Kendra, brazenly defying Caro's order.  "See?"  she said: "You're a
prisoner just like the rest of us.  That's probably not even a real
gun.  You're just another pregnant girl."

The other girls had followed Kendra outside and were now standing
mutely in a tight knot on the front porch.  Caro saw no point in trying
to convince them she was a detective.

Odell's white Suburban was parked in the driveway.  The doors were
unlocked and the keys were in the ignition.  "Just stand back," Caro
said as she opened the driver's door and climbed in.  She would show
these girls who was a prisoner and who wasn't.  She cranked up the
engine, turned the truck around, pointed it toward the gate, fastened
her seat belt... and floored it.

The violent jolt from the impact jerked Caro against the shoulder
harness and snapped her head forward, but the chain that held the gates
didn't break.  She backed up the truck and tried again.  Finally, on
her third attempt, the chain gave way.  Her head was spinning.  The
tmck's hood was trenched in and the engine didn't sound so good, but
who cared?  The girls cheered and whistled.  Cato leaned out the window
and motioned for them to join her.  It was a tight fit, but all seven
and theft protruding stomaches managed to wedge themselves into the
vehicle.

"Fasten your seat belts," she dutifully ordered as she put the truck in
gear and headed down the narrow, twisting dirt road that led away from
the Good Shepherd Home.

"You gotta be kidding," someone groused.

"I'm about to pee in my pants," another complained.  "Why didn't you go
back at the house?"  Caro asked.  "There wasn't time for everybody to
go."

"Well, there are worse things than peeing in your pants," Caro said.
Like burning your hands.  Every movement she made sent searing rockets
of pain all the way up her arms.  Still, she'd do it again.  Her escape
and rescue might not have been textbook pretty, but it had worked.
"Anybody know how to get to tile nearest town?  '

No one did.  They had never left the home before.  So when' she reached
a two-lane blacktop, Cato arbitrarily turned right.  The road had to
lead somewhere.

Over the next ten minutes the girls overcame their retieenee, and soon
they were all talking at once.  Cato got a jumbled version of what had
been going on.  Odell had singlehandedly kidnapped more than a dozen
pregnant girls from cities all over Texas.  After the girls had their
babies, they disappeared.  No one knew what had happened to Amanda and
Terri, who apparently was close to term, only that they had been alive
and well the night before.

That, at least, was encouraging.

She was not going to cry, Amanda told herself.  If she was smart enough
to escape The Good Shepherd Home, she was smart enough to get herself
out of these damned woods.  But it seemed like she'd been walking for
days, and she'd encountered nothing but trees, trees and more trees.

She'd hated leaving Terri behind.  But it seemed the only sensible
solution.  After her water had broken and the contractions begun, Terri
had valiantly tried to continue.  But she hadn't lasted long.  When
they'd stumbled onto an abandoned house, which would at least provide
some shelter if it started raining, Terri had declared that she wasn't
moving another inch.

"It takes a long time to have a baby, right?"  Amanda had asked. 
"Hours and hours, sometimes days?"

Terri groaned.  "What a cheerful thought."

"I mean, surely I'll be able to bring help before the baby actually
gets here.  I just dont want you to worry."

"I won't," Teazi said in a small voice.  "Just go.  The sooner you
leave, the sooner you'll be back, right?"

"I'll be back by daylight," Amanda had promised.

As it turned out, her promise had been rash.  Going had been slow in
the pitch black.  Branches seemed to reach out with wills of their own
to scratch her face and catch her hair.  She'd walked through
spiderwebs and tripped over roots, all the while not even sure she was
still headed in the right direction.  Ten miles over rough terrain was
a helluva long way, she realized.

Then the crowning glory of bad luck: she'd fallen into a hole and
twisted her knee, lilc one of those stupid heroines in an old B movie.
At that point she'd dragged herself to the base of a large tree,
intending to rest awhile and wait for daylight.  She'd dozed fitfully,
fearful of every slight noise she heard.

When morning finally dawned, the sky was overcast, and Amanda wasn't
able to use the sun to navigate.  Hobbling along as best she could, she
continued in what she thought was a straight line.  But several hours
later, she saw a fallen tree covered with fungus that looked awfully
familiar.  She was afraid she'd been walking in circles.

Poor Terri, she thought, Plodding along, refusing to give up.  Had she
had the baby by now?  Could she do it without anyone to help her? Well,
of course she could, Amanda scolded herself.  Women had been delivering
babies for centuries, and she' didn't imagine the baby would wait just
because there wasn't a doctor around.  But what if Terri had trouble? 
If this harebrained escape plan resulted in anything happening to her
friend... It didn't bear thinking about.

She walked on, mechanically putting one step in front of another,
concentrating on staying upright.  She heard a noise in the distance
and stopped to listen.  There it was again, a dog baying.  And it
sounded like Phoebe.

Oh, dear God, she prayed, dont let Odell find me.  Not after all this.
Amanda would rather wander the woods forever than put herself under
that witch's control again.  But the dog was getting closer.  She could
hear it running through the brush now, howling spasmodically.  Moments
later Phoebe crashed into view, tongue lolling as she leaped over a
log.

Amanda froze.  She didn't think the dog would attack her, but she
wasn't sure.

Phoebe skidded to a halt a few feet away, much to Amanda's relief, and
continued to bay loudly.  At that point she knew there was no escape
for her.  Any moment now Odell would appear with her Shotgun, and
Amanda would be dragged in disgrace back to the Good Shepherd Home. The
only decision she needed to make was whether to tell Odell where to
find Terri.

Was it better to leave her friend to her own devices, or send Odell to
help deliver the baby?  She know what Terri would want.  Even if she
were dying, she would want Odell to stay as far away as possible.  That
was the answer, then.  Odell could torture Amanda, and she would never
tell her whom to find Terri.

Phoebe abruptly stopped howling and turned to retrace her path.  That's
when Amanda saw a shadow moving through the woods toward her, leaves
crunching under heavy boot.

It was Henryl Thank you, God, thank you, thank you.  Henry would help
her.  He would show her the way out of the woods and into town.  She
waved and smiled happily as he drew closer.  "I

thought I'd be lost in these stupid woods forever!"  She wondered if
she should hug him.

Henry stopped a few feet from her.  He wasn't smiling.  "Why didn't you
meet me at the Dairy Queen?"  he dmanded.  "I waited and waited."

She thought the answer to that question was obvious.  Then again, Henry
wasn't the brightest person she'd ever encountered.  "I've been lost,"
she said.  "I didn't realize how far it was into town, and also I
tripped and twisted my knee.  Look, look how swollen my knee is."

Henry appeared unconvinced.  "Why did you take Terri with you?"  His
voice was low, full of suspicion.

She'd never seen him in quite this mood before.  "I had no choice," she
explained patiently.  "How was I to know Odell would put Terri in the
basement, too?  She followed me.  I tried to stop her."  That, at
least, was true.

"Is that why you dug such a big hole under the fence?"  he asked, smug
now, as if he knew he'd caught her.  His facial tics seemed more
pronounced than usual.

She wondered if he'd actually witnessed the escape, or if he only
examined the hole under the fence this morning and figured out that
she'd enlarged it.  "I couldn't get through the hole myself.  I had to
make it bigger," she reasoned.  "Anyway, Terri was the one with the
shovel.  I was busy distracting Bella."

It was like talking to a brick wall.  He didn't appear to be listening
or trying to understand.  Suddenly his eyes filled with tears.  "You
called me a big, dumb ox," he said.  "Why did you say that"

"I was acting!"  This was ineteddie.  "I was pretending to be a very
bad girl, remember?  I was trying to convince Odell that I was out of
control.  lie my you know I didn't mean it.  It was all an act.
Henry?"

She reached out to stroke his sleeve.  His face softened, and he almost
let her touch him.  Then he jerked away.  "where's Terri?"  "We split
up," Amanda said eardessly.  "You know I can't stand

"I thought the fight was all an act," he said, obviously confused.

"Well, it was, my part was.  But not hers.  Did you hear what she
called me?  She called me a bitch.  I hope she wanders around in these
woods until she's eighty!"

Apparently she'd said the wrong thing.  Henry's face hardened.  "That's
not a very Christian attitude."

Amanda tried to appear contrite.  "I'm sorry.  But she made me mad. Can
we forget about Terri?  I'm tired and hungry and my knee hurts."

"I can't forget about Terri," he said, deafly disturbed.  His mood
seemed to be flickering back and forth among anger, anxiety, and
hopefulness.  "Now that she's free, she'll bring the cops.  They'll put
Aunt Odell in jail.  And she'll know that it was all my fault.  She'll
never forgive me."

"Okay, we'll find Terri," Amanda said, thinking quiekiy.  "She can't
move very fast, not when she's almost nine months along.  She's
probably lost, just like me.  But she headed south and I went east.
She's probably miles away from here.  What would she find if she went
south?"

"I dont know," Henry said, his brow.  creased in deep thought.  "I'd
need a map."

"Where's your truck?  I bet you keep a map in your truck."  "That's
right, I do," he said, brightening.  "The highway's about two miles
that way.  Can you walk that far?"

Amanda breathed a surreptitious sigh of relief.  She'd almost lost his
trust, but n w he appeared to be falling in with her plans again.  "I
can walk," she said, "but not very fast."  To think, she'd been only
two miles from the highway, from salvation.  She would still make it.
But now she would have to get away from Henry.  It shouldn't be that
difficult.

Hang on, Terri.

After an arduous forty-five minutes or so, Amanda could see that the
trees were thinning out.  Soon Hemy's old green pie Imp tmek came into
view, parked on the side of a dirt road.  The sight made her heart
leap.  She was dose to dropping from exhaustion and her knee was
throbbing.  She thought about home, her father, Scott.  Perhaps she was
just a few hours away from seeing them again.

Henry hoisted Phoebe into the back, started to open the passenger door
for Amanda, then paused, his brow creased in concentration the way it
did when he was thinking something through.

Amanda' was filled with apprehension.  Henry was no Rhodes scholar, yet
he did possess some logic.  Was he thinking about what she'd told him?
Was he about to catch her in a lie?

"What's wrong, Henry?"  she asked.

"I was just thinking... if I find Terri and bring her back to the home,
Aunt Odell will be real proud of me."

"That's right, she will."

"And then Terri will open her big mouth, and that'll be the end of
it."

"What do you mean?"  "She knows I helped you escape.  You told her,
didn't you?"  It was an accusation.

Amanda's heart fluttered erratically.  "Well, I didn't come right out
and tell her, no.  I wasn't talking to her hardly at all."

"But she saw that the bars on the window were loosened.  And she saw
the hole dug under the fence.  So she knows you had help, and she'll
tell Aunt Odell."

"I dont think you need to worry about that," Amanda reasoned.  "Even if
she does know, why would she tell Odell anything?  She has nothing to
gain."

"Because she's a sinner, that's why."  Abruptly he jerked the door
open.  "Get in."

Amanda climbed into the truck, feeling like she was walking through a
mine field, She had to find some way to reassure Henry that everything
would work out okay.  But he had a point about Terri.  If he let her
get away, she would bring the cops to the home.  And if he caught her
and brought her back to the home, she would almost certainly tell Odell
of Henry's part in the escape.  Of course, Amanda was going to bring
the house down before either of those two possibilities could happen.
But Henry didn't know that.

Henry slid behind the wheel and reached into the glove compartment.  He
pulled out a stack of maps, found the one he wanted and began to study
it.  When Amanda leaned over to have a look--it would be nice to know
where she was--he pulled away from her so she couldn't see.

"You say she headed south?"  he asked Amanda.

"Yes, that's right."

"South is down," he murmured to himself, frowning as he concentrated on
the map.  Then he smiled, and it wasn't a pleasant smile.  "I know
where to find her.  And I know just how to deal with her, too."

"What are you going to do?"  Amanda asked, trying to sound merely
curious.

"I'll make sure Terri never tells anyone anything, ever again."  He
cranked up the truck and threw it into gear.

Amanda went cold as a block of ice inside, Surely he didn't mean...
"Henry," she said cautiously, "you can't hurt Terri."

"Oh, it won't hurt much," he said, as if this was supposed to reassure
Amanda.  "My hands are real strong.  I just squeeze, kind of like
squeezing the juice out of an orange, no harder than that.  Then after
a minute, two minutes, it's over.  She'll be gone, gone to her eternal
punishment."  He spoke as casually as if he were explaining how to
check the oil in a car.

Amanda tried not to let the horror show on her face.  Henry planned to
kill Terri, murder her.  All this time, Amanda had thought Henry was
basically good, a slow-witted, obedient nephew eager to please.  But if
he could kill another human being with not even a twinge of
conscience... "Henry, that doesn't seem a very Christian thing to do,"
she said, using one of his own favorite arguments.

"Oh, but it is," he argued.  "Terri is a sinner, just like the others.
I'm roe ting out God's justice."

The others?  ""Vengeance is mine," sayeth the Lord," she tried again.

"Yes, and I am his tool of vengeance," Henry said.  "The first time, I
wasn't sure.  I mean, it was really an accident.  I was supposed to
drop off the sinner in Corsicana, but she woke up before we got there,
and she started fighting me.  I broke her neck.  At first I thought I'd
done something bad, but then I felt this... this goodness filling me
up, like her life was coming into my body.  And I felt strong and good,
and I knew I'd done the right thing."

Amanda wanted to throw up.  She grabbed on to the door handle to steady
herself.  Henry was a murderer, and she was completely under his
control.  If she didn't say and do exactly the right thing, he could
easily consider her among the sinners and justify her death.  She
looked at his hands, gripping the steering wheel, and she swallowed
hard.

"How many s-sinners have you punished?"  she felt compelled to ask.
"All of the girls?"

"All except Marcy.  She died from hmm... --uh, I can't remember the
word, but she bled too much.  We dropped her off the dam, Aunt Odell
and me did.  That was right before you came to the home."

Amanda remembered.  A young girl's body had been, found at the Cedar
Creek spillway the day before Odell had kidnapped Amanda.

"Odell said she ought to have a decent Cludstian burial.  I didn't
think so.  She was a sinner, too."

"Where do you put the bodies?"  Amanda asked, masking the horror from
her voice.  '

He flashed a self-satisfied smile.  "In an old well in the woods.  It's
wide and deep.  Plenty of room in there.  Room for ten, maybe twenty
sinners.  They'll never be found."

Now Amanda was sick.  Her stomach rolled and she coughed, grateful that
she hadn't eaten in a long time.  No matter h/)w she tried to block it,
she saw a vision of Terri i down a well.  And the baby?  If Henry found
Terri, what would he do about the baby?

That was it!  "Henry, you can't kill Terri," she said suddenly.  "If
you kill her, you'll be killing the baby, too.  And while she might be
a sinner, the baby is innocent."

Her logic had an immediate and profound effect on Henry.  He slammed on
the brakes so suddenly that Amanda had to put her hand on the dash to
keep from being pitched onto the floor.  Then he just sat there, hands
flexing on the steering wheel as his mouth worked silently.  His face
was a picture of torture.  "I can't kill a baby," he finally said.
Amanda relaxed a bit.

"That would go against everything Odell has done.  She would never,
ever forgive me.  But if she finds out that I helped you escape..."
Suddenly he turned on Amanda, an unreasoning rage pouring out of him.
"It's your fault!  You're the one who tempted me with yOUr hat lot
ways.  You made me wander from the righteous path."

Amanda shook her head mutely.  Her mind, frozen with fear, refused to
give her the words she needed to defend herself.

He reached out and stroked her hair, almost reverently, then grabbed a
handful and yanked.

She yelped in surprise and pain.  "Henxy, you're hurting me."  Seeming
not to hear her, he pulled until she was sprawled across the front
seat, then fitted his other hand around her neck.  "Whore of Babylon!"
he shouted, bending her head back so she was forced to look at his
twisted face.

"I'm not a whom," she objected as tears of pain clouded her vision.
"I've repented.  Henry, you mustn't--"

His hand tightened on her neck, cutting off her words.  "God is your
judge, and He says you're guilty."  Then, for just a moment, his
expression softened, suffused with regret.  "It won't hurt for long,
Amanda.  Trust me, it's better this way."

Chapter 18

Austin was fiftn miles outside the town of River Rock, driving his
Bronco over eighty, when his cellular phone rang.  He snapped the
device open with a frenetic flick of his wrist.  "Corporal Lo max.
Who's this?  What do you have?"

"Got a pencil?"

"Oh, Tony."  Austin realized he had long since lost his professional
objectivity.  He was barely rational.  But he kept visualizing Cato in
various situations, none of them pleasant, and the tormenting thoughts
made him wild with the need to do something, hear something.  He pulled
a pen from his jacket pocket and found an old gas receipt to writ on.
"What's going on?"

"I have an address for Odell Beaman.  And I just talked to the sheriff
down there, Don Fowles.  He knows the place, and he'll meet you there
with all the backup he can muster.  The closest FBI field office--"

"What the hell?"  Austin interrupted, slamming on the brakes to avoid
rear-ending a white truck stalled in his lane.  A gaggle of women
swarmed around the disabled vehicle.  They all looked up and began
waving and shouting frantically.

"What's going on?"  Tony asked.

"Ladies with car trouble.  Hell, I dont have time to play Sir Galahad
now," he muttered.  He was starting to pull past them when a familiar
pair of neon leggings caught his eye.  The woman

wearing them, who had her head stuck in the tmck's engine,

looked up, and Austin dammed on the brakes again.

She stared at him in disbelief.

He dropped the phone and was out of the ear and to her in a split
second.  "Cato, thank God."  Relief coursed through him like a raging
river.  Without a second thought he pulled her to him and held her,
reassuring himself that she wasn't a figment of his imagination.  Her
body was soft and warm against his.  He pressed his face into her hair,
She smelled like... smoke?

"Ouch!  let go, let go!"

He released her immediately.  "Are you hurt?"  he asked, scanning up
and down her body.

"I'm fine," she said through gritted teeth.  "Your concern is touching,
but right now there are more pressing matters than my health We have to
get these girls to a safe haven, and then we have to find Odeil and
someone named Henry and two missing girls, one of them Amanda.  Where's
your phone?"

"In the car.  But if you're calling for backup..."  He cocked his head,
listening.  "Hear those sirens?"  Moments later two county sheriff's
ears crested the hill, sirens wailing and lights flashing.  Overkill,
in Austin's opinion.

One of the girls burst into tears.  Another whined that she had to go
to the bathroom.  The new arrivals screeched to a halt and jumped out
of their vehicles, reminding Austin of an outtake from Smokey and the
Bandit.  One of the men swaggered over imp or-tan fly.

"What's going on hem?"

Cato, heedless of her rather bedraggled appearance, stepped right up to
the man.  "I'm Corporal Carolyn Triece with the Dallas Police
Department," she said smoothly, though she declined to offer her hand.
"These girls have been held captive, some of them for months, by a
woman name Odell Beaman--"

"Yes, we've been apprised of the situation," the sheriff's deputy said,
eyeing Cato speculatively.  "We were just over at the Beaman place.
Quite a setup."  He looked at the white Suburban, then back at Cato,
"You're the one who was snatched this morning?  And you escaped?  And
you took all these girls with you?"  Skepticism quickly turned to
admiration.

Cato wasn't about to bask in any praise.  "Look, we dont have time to
Chitchat.  Odeil and her nephew Henry are still at large and two girls
are missing."

With a minimum of fuss she took control of everything and everybody.
Her first order; of business was to transport the girls to safety,
dividing them up and directing them into the squad cars.  A

local police car from River Rock arrived, along with an unmarked car
driven by an off-duty sheriff's deputy.  Caro gave orders, like a
pint-sized General Patton.  The others jumped When she spoke..in other
circumstances, Austin would have found that amusing.  now he was just
grateful for her competence.

"You say the Suburban was the only car parked at the Beaman place?" the
local cop asked.

"That's right," Cato said.

"That means Henry's old green truck is out and about somewhere," Austin
pointed out.

"Damn, I thought they were all on foot," she said.  "Get th eli-cense
number from DMV, if possible, and put out an APB.  These people are
armed and dangerous as hell.  What are the chances of getting a
helicopter?"

"I'll call in one from Dallas," Austin said.  Aside from that small
contribution, he just stood back and watched as Cato took firm control
of what used to be his investigation.  A couple of weeks ago that would
have bothered him, but somewhere between losing Cato.  and finding her
again, he had also lost all desire to be a hero.  He just wanted this
thing over.

And then he wanted to take Cato Triece to a Caribbean island,
tareferablv one with no phones, and stay there with her for a month or
two.  He would never let the woman out of his sight again.  That s
something, he thought, suppressing a grin.  A couple of weeks ago he'd
wanted her as far away from him as possible.

"Get the lead out, Lomax, we're rolling," Cato said, abruptly
obliterating his brief moment of fantasy as she climbed into the
passenger seat of his car..

He shook his head to clear it and slid behind the whed, appalled at his
own stupidity.  He wasn't exactly on Caro's A list, and not likely to
share an island with her any time soon.  He'd let her down.  He'd
almost gotten her killed, and she would probably never forgive him.

He wasn't sure he could ever fox give himself.

"River Rock's straight ahead, ten miles," she said, sounding suddenly
weary.  "Did you get the directions to the police station?"

"Yeah.  Right at the third street past the flashing yellow light."  The
local cop shop was to serve as Command Central, from which Caro would
direct the search for Odell, Henry and the two girls.

As soon as he was cruising at seventy, he looked over at Caro.  Her
eyes were closed, her face tense with obvious pain.  Then he saw the
problem.

"Cato, your hands..."  They were red and blistered, and in places
completely raw.  He remembered the smokey smell of her hair.  "There
was a fire?"

"A small one.  It's no big deal."

"Like bell.  You've got third-degree burns, and that's nothing to mess
around with.  I'm taking you to the nearest hospital."

"No, you're not," she said fLrmly.  "I'll go later.  Damreit, Lomax,
I'm not missing the end of this."

There was an almost pleading note in her voice, and Austin knew he had
bet.  She recognized that bet injuries were serious enough to warrant
concern, and if be pressed he could get her to a doctor.  But he
understood her need to see the operation through.  After all she'd
suffered,.  to miss finding Amanda and arresting Odetl would be like
reading a book with the last page torn out.

"Okay," he said.

There was a long, uncomfortable pause.

"How did you know where I was?"  she asked.  "For that matter, where
did all those other guys come from?"

He explained about Odell's careless phone call and Chloe Krill's
confession.  "That narrowed it down to a general area, but the rest was
pure luck.  Tony had just tracked down an address when--" The phone
rang again as if on cue.

"Go ahead, answer it," Austin said.  "It'll be Tony, wondering what the
hell I'm doing."

With a shrug, she picked it up from between the seats.  "Corporal
Triece."  Whatever Tony said in response brought a smile to Caro's
lips.  "Yeah, it's me.  I'm okay, no thanks to you bums."  Her smile
faded.  "I know, Tony.... No, I dont have time to explain it all now.
We still have a few loose ends here.  We'll get back to you."  After a
few more assurances that she was fine--which was a blatant lie--she
hung up.  Then she looked at Austin reproachfully.  "I shouldn't have
said that--about you being a bum.  I know it was an honest mistake--"

"It was a first-class screw-up."

"It was that damn body mike, wasn't it?  The wire came loose."  "Yenh."
He appreciated her attempt to pin the foul-up on something other than
his miserable hide.  "The body mike, a Coke truck and total ineptness
on my part.  I'm sorry, Cam.  I dont know what else to say, except that
it'll be a cold day in hell before I ever run another undercover
operation."

"Cold days come along in bell every once in a while," she murmured.

He started to ask her what she was talking about, but before he could
even take a breath she cursed.

"Lomax, you just missed the turn."

He put on the brakes.  "What turn?"

"That fork back there.  The highway into town went left and we went
right."

"Nobody told me about any damn fork," he grumbled, throwing the car
into reverse.  Then he stopped and stared into the distance.

"What's wrong?"  Caro asked, immediately sensing his alert-heSS.

"That speck of green up ahead.  Looks like a green car ... or truck."

"Yeah..."  Suddenly she was all business.  "I'm glad we're in an
unmarked."

"I'll just drive by casually..."."

It turned out to be an old truck, suspiciously similar to the
description of Henry's.  , big dog.  was the vehicle's only occupant,
but both doors vere open-like the driver and passenger had vacated in a
helluva hurry.  The gun rack held a shotgun.

Austin stopped the Bronco, and he and Cato both got out to check over
the abandoned vehicle.  But the dog, a bloodhound, had other ideas.  It
growled menacingly, protecting its territory.  "Now, come on, fella, we
won't hurt you;" Cato said.  "Uh, Cato, it's a girl dog."

"whatever.  Austin, you know dogs.  You make friends with her."

"Not likely.  I'm as fond of my appendages as the next--hey, did you
hear that?"

"Yeah."  A high-pitched scream had erupted from the woods.  Austin
reflexively drew his gun from his shoulder holster.  Cato had a gun,
too, a tiny stainless-steel revolver.  He didn't even want to know
where she'd been stowing it, or why.

They exchanged a look.  No words were necessary.  They split up,
heading into the woods a hundred feet apart so they could confront
their adversary from opposite directions.

Austin heard another scream.  Within seconds he'd found the source, a
young woman who was struggling to remove a large man's hands from
around her throat.

"Freeze, PolieeV' Austin bellowed.

The man--Hemy?--did in fact freeze, raising his head like a wild animal
caught in a hunter's gun sight.  He stared at Austin with burning,
malevolent eyes that weren't entirely human.

"Let her go," Austin said.

He realized with a start that the bedraggled girl wE Amanda Arkin,
though she didn't quite m0tch the pretty, perky Amanda in the photogph
Austin had memorized.  She stopped struggling and stared at Austin with
pleading eyes.  Austin was both relieved to find her alive and
terrified she wouldn't remain that way for long unless he handled this
just right.

"Let her go," he repeated.  "It's all over now, Henry."  From the
corner of his eye he saw a movement.  Cato was approaching from behind
Henry, quiet as a cat.  Austin had to struggle not to look at her or
show by his expression that they had company.

With practiced precision she struck, giving the back of Henry's knees a
karate kick.  The attack surprised him enough that he loosened his hold
on Amanda.  That was all the gift needed; she managed to pull away from
him.  Henry turned in confusion to see what had assaulted him.  Austin
was on him like a cannonball, knocking him to the ground.

The man was huge, but he was panicked, thrashing around with little
coordination.  Austin put a knee to Henry's back and with two
lightning-swift moves he had the man's arms immobilized.  "I've got
hims" Austin said, now with one knee pressing down on Henry's neck. The
prisoner kicked wildly, but he wasn't going any where.  "In my glove
box I have some handcuffs."

Without a word Cato went to fetch them.

Amanda stood a few feet away, breathing heavily and rubbing her
throat.

"Are you okay?"  Austin asked.

"Yeah, I think so," she replied in a trembling voice.

"She has the devil in her," Henry said, his words muffled because his
face was pressed into the spongy ground.

"Don't we all?"  Austin countered, shaking his head.  It was apparent
the guy was pretty disturbed, but at least he had stopped struggling.
"You're under arrest, bud, and that means you have the right to remain
silent.  You understand?"

"Like on TV?"  Henry ventured, sounding now more like a scared little
boy than an attempted murderer.

"Exactly."  Austin rattled off the rest of the Miranda warning. 
"You're going to put him in jail, aren't you?"  Amanda asked, growing
agitated. She stood several feet away, her gaze riveted on Henry. 
"He's a murderer, you know."

"Almost," Austin said, conjuring up a smile for her.  "Are you sure
you're okay?"

"No, not me," she answered impatiently.  "He killed four girls and
stuffed their bodies down a well."

Austin's smile froze on his face.

Caw returned just in time to hear Amanda's revelation.  Her eyes grew
as big as poker chips.  "Did you do that, Henry?"

"They had the devil in them," Henry offered, as if this were a
perfectly acceptable defense for murder.

"Holy God," Cato said.  Something had finally shocked the unfiappabl
Carolyn Triece.

She pulled a thin plastic strip reFlex-cuffs--from a cellophane package
and handed it to Austin, who then busied himself securing Henry's
hands.  Meanwhile Caro talked softly with Amanda, trying to reassure
her, explaining that her friends from the Good Shepherd Home were
safe.

"Except for Terri.  We have to go back and get her," Amanda insisted,
close to tears.  "She's having a baby all by herself in this terrible
shack .... "

"We'll find her," Cato soothed.

"But I dont even know if I can show you where it is.  It's about a
zillion miles into the woods, and I'm not even sure what direction.
I've been walking all night and I twisted my knee "She began uying in
earnest.  Cato held the girl while she sobbed, but the storm of tears
didn't last long.  She quickly pulled herself together.  "Maybe...
maybe if we go back to the home and start from there, I can find the
shack again."  Terrdic, Austin thought.  Now they were probably going
to have to deliver a baby.  He hauled a surprisingly meek Henry to his
feet.  "You're not going anywhere except a hospital," Austin said to
Amanda.  And maybe, once he got there, he could convince Caro to accept
treatment.  "Don't worry, we'll take care of Terri."  "But I'm the only
one who can find her," Amanda pointed out.  "These woods are huge.  You
could walk in circles for days."  "She has a point," Cato said.  "Okay,
okay."  He wasn't going to argue with these two.  Together they had
more grit than a barracks full of marines.  They'd reached the road.
Austin opened the Bronco's back door and deposited Henry inside.
"You're gonna behave, right?"  Henry nodded, completely subdued.  The
bloodhound, watching from its vantage point in the truck, whined in
confusion but didn't move.  Without being asked, Cato climbed in beside
the prisoner.  He wouldn't dare misbehave within her reach.  Austin
started to shut the door, then thought of something.  "Hey, Henry, do
you know where this shack is?"  "Yeah," he said sullenly.  "Can you
take us there?"  "Why should

I?"

Amanda, who'd been keeping a safe distance between herself and the
prisoner, moved closer.  "For the baby, Henry.  It could die if we dont
get it to a hospital."

He was immediately contrite.  "All right, for the baby."

The pain was more manageable now.  Caro had found her purse in the back
of Odell's Suburban.  In the absence of large quantities of morphine,
which was what she really wanted, she'd made do with aspirin.  But that
and all the adrenaline flowing through her system had at least dulled
the agony of her burned hands to some thing she could function around,
although an occasional wave sometimes hit her.

Sitting in the back seat of Austin's Bronco, she kept a waxy eye on
Henry, who blubbered occasionally and talked strings of non sense to
himself but otherwise appeared to be little threat.  His grip on
reality was tenuous at best.  If he really did murder someone, he
probably would never be convicted.  She listened as Austin up dated the
sheriff via radio and called for backup and an ambulance to converge at
the Beaman home.

"What about Phoebe?"  Henry suddenly asked.

"Phoebe?"  Was there another player in this drama that they didn't know
about?

"His dog," Amanda supplied.

"Oh, the one guarding your truck," said Cato.  "She'll be okay.

We'll send someone to pick up the dog and the truck."  Taking advantage of his momentary lucidity, she added, "You dont by chance know
where your aunt is, do you?"

He shook his head.  "She left this morning.  Haven't seen her."

He paused, his face screwed up in concentration.  "She's gonna be mad
at me."

Not half as mad as I am, Cato thought.  After seeing the hulk nearly
squeeze the life out of Amanda, she was fighting mad.  It had felt good
to kick him in the knees.  She enjoyed seeing him handcuffed, defeated.
And yet... she felt sorry for him, too.  Yes,

an unmistakable grain of compassion clouded her thinking.  Her first
instinct was to push that softness aside.  Cops didn't feel sorry for
criminals.  Or did they?  Was compassion a weakness, or was it
something she'd been missing, an essential part of her humanness that
gave her some much-needed balance?  "

If she were called on to interrogate Henry, could she do it?  Could she
wrench a confession out of him?  A few weeks ago, her answer would have
been a resounding no.  He reminded her too much of

Charlie Northcutt.  But she hadn't felt sorry for Charlie, not until he
was dead.

They had arrived back at the Good Shepherd Home, which was now crawling
with uniforms and swathed with yellow crime-scene tape.  The ambulance
had not yet arrived.  A young-looking deputy, full of officiousness,
directed Austin to park outside the gate along the narrow dirt drive.
This was probably the biggest thing ever to happen to these small-town
cops, and they were reveling in it.  Cato could only hope they weren't
destroying evidence with all their tromping around.

The eager-heaver deputy rushed up to the Bronco as soon as he realized
who was inside.  He opened Caro's and Amanda's doors: "You want I
should take Henry here down to the judge and magistrate him?"  he
asked.

This ease was going to be a 'jurisdictional nightmare, Caro thought.
"Not just yet," she replied.  "We still need him for something.  Has
there been any sign of Odell?"

"Nothing.  Sheriff Fowles thinks she might have hitched a ride out of
the area."

Caro hoped not.  Finding Amanda alive and well was sweet success.
Breaking up Odell's operation was an added bonus.  But Cato would feel
cheated if she didn't bring Odell to justice.

Austin opened Henry's door.  "Okay, big guy, lead the way," he said.

Hemy appeared confused.

"You were going to help us find the shack where the baby is, remember?"
Amanda added.  She got out of the truck and walked around to where
Austin was assisting Henry to his feet.  "Terri and I went under the
fence behind that building over there, and we headed straight that
way."  She pointed due east.  "Then Terri went into labor.  We didn't
go very far before we found the shack.  It can't be more than a mile or
two."

"Half a mile, "Henry corrected her, finally comprehending.  "Straight
that way.  Can I get something to eat?"  He nodded toward the house.
"It's past lunchtime, and I didn't even eat breakfast."

"This nice deputy will get you something, right, uh..."  Cato looked at
his name tag.  "Right, Eddie?"

"Sure thing.  Hey, you should see a doctor about those bur us How'd
that happen, anyway?"

She self-consciously put her hands behind her.  "Later.  Take good care
of our prisoner, please," she said crisply.  "I want everything done by
the book.  You understand what I'm saing?"

"Yes, ma'am.  Sheriff Fowles wouldn't stand for anything less."

She nodded, somewhat reassured.

"Can we go now, please?"  Amanda implored.

"We should wait for the paramedics," Cato argued sensibly.

"To hell with that," Austin said.  "I can carry the girl back here.  I
just want to find her."

"Okay," Cato agreed.  "Let's go."

Amanda walked ahead of them, limping slightly on her injured knee.  The
woods were thicker here, the underbrush knee-high.  Cato wondered how
those two girls had made any progress in the dark last night.

"Look," Amanda said excitedly, "you can see where we walked last night,
where the plants are beaten down.  There's sort of a

"Great, that should take us right to her," Austin said, leading the
way.

Cam brought up the rear of the little procession, wondering what they
would find.  She hoped for Amanda's sake that Terri and the baby were
all right.  Caro could tell that Amanda felt responsible for Tern's
predicament, and the girl would take it hard if any harm had befallen
her friend.

They'd been trudging for about fifteen minutes when Austin stopped
abruptly.  "There, is that it?"  he asked Amanda in a hushed voice,
pointing ahead.

Cato squinled in the direction he pointed.  Sure enough, there was a
structure of some sort in the distance.

"I never saw it in daylight," Amanda said, "but that must be it."  She
quickened her pace.  A few moments later she stopped cold.  "Oh, my
God."

Austin and Caro stopped, too.  "What?"  they asked in unison.  "The
dog."

Caro squinted again, wondering if she needed glasses.  Sure enough
there was a big German shepherd sitting in front of the broken-down
shack.

"What about it?"  Austin asked.

"That's Bella.  Odell's dog.  Either Bella followed us here last night
or... Odell is in there with Terri."

Chapter 19

was one complication Austin hadn't counted on.  People with guns and
ill intent he could handle.  A snarling animal that couldn't be
reasoned with was something else again.

"You," be said to Amanda, "go back and get us some help.  Talk to
Sheriff Fowles directly," he added, fearing what some of those yo-yo's
posing as deputies would do without supervision.  "And bring the
paramedics and a stretcher.  The ambulance is probably there by now."

Amanda's chin jutted out.  "Tern's in there, and I'm not leaving until
she's safe.  I can help you--"

"That is not an option."

"What are you going to do about Bella?"  Amanda asked, obviously trying
to distract him.

Good question.  The minute the dog had caught their scent it pricked up
its ears and bared its teeth.  "I'll shoot the damn dog," he said
rashly.

"No," both women objected.

"Shh!  Keep it down."

"If you discharge your gun, you'll warn Odell we're here," Cato pointed
out.  "We want to take her by surprise."

True enough, he conceded with a nod.

"It's too bad we dont have any food," Amanda w!ispered.  Bella can be

"Who says we dont have food?"  Austin rummaged around in his jacket and
came up with the Twinkie he'd pocketed that morning, a lifetime ago. 
"Will this work?"

Cato stared in blatant amazement, murmuring, "TII never criticize your
eating habits again."

Amanda nodded enthusiastically.  "Yeah, Bella will eat anything.  Hand
it over."

"Uh-uh."  Austin pointed in the direction they'd just come.  "Go."

"Bella knows me," Amanda reasoned.  "I can distract her while--"

"Absolutely not.  Cato, take Amanda back to the house."  Amanda looked
at Caro and, seeing no support from that quarter, slumped in defeat.
"All right, I'm going," Amanda said.  "And I dont need an escort.  Just
be careful.  Please dont let anything happen to Terri."

That's all Austin needed, an eighteen-year-old telling him how to do
his job.  He forced himself to be patient with her and try to allay her
fears.  She'd been through a lot.  "We'll do our very best."

When she'd gone, he turned to Caro.  "Do we go, or wait for backup?"

"I say we go.  If fifteen people try to take this place with a siege,
we lose the element of surprise.  You bribe the dog.  I'll sneak up and
take Odell.  Shouldn't be too difficult.  If she's busy delivering a
baby, she won't be toting around her gun."

"You're gonna take her with that peashooter?"  He nodded derisively
toward the little stainless-steel gun she'd pulled from her boot.

"Okay, then I'll distract the dog--"

"Nah, I'll do it."  Austin figured Caro didn't need dog bites on top of
her other injuries, and she'd already proved to his satisfaction that
she knew how to sneak up on someone.  Her performance with Henry had
been stellar.

The shepherd had drawn closer.  Thankfully it wasn't barking.  Austin
quickly unwrapped the Twinkie and held it toward the animal.  "Nice
Bella.  Good dog.  Pretty dog."  He'd always had a way with dogs.  He
hoped this one wouldn't prove to be the exception.  He didn't really
want to harm the animal.

Bella immediately stopped growling and came closer still, sniffing
furiously.  Austin broke off a piece of the cake and offered it to her,
watching from the corner of his eye as Cato dipped toward the shack,
slinking low up to the boarded-up window and peeking in between the
planks.  She looked back at him signaled him that she was okay, then
moved toward the doorway..

It didn't take long for Bella to demolish the Twinkie.  Austin managed
to scratch her behind the ears as he crooned reassuringly to her.  By
the time the dog had licked Austin's fingers, she was wagging her
tail.

"Some watchdog you are," he murmured.  "Want to go for a walk?  You
do?"  He had no intention of letting Care handle Odell by herself.  He
walked slowly toward the house, the dog at his heels, then cut around
to the opposite side.  Capable as Care was, he wouldn't leave anything
to chance.

As she cuddled the squalling infant, Odell felt a glow of acc
mplishment, almost as if she'd given birth to the child herself.  She
had saved the life of this baby girl,-saved her from the abortionist
knife.  She was large and healthy, and Odell could only hope the
deplorable conditions of her birth wouldn't leave any lasting effects.
There had been no time to take Terri outside for the birth.  The baby
made its appearance within seconds of Odell's arrival, and Odell's part
in the delivery had been reduced to catching the infant as it came out,
then tying and cutting the cord with an sterilized pocket knife.  It
would be a miracle if the child escaped without an infection, but at
least there had been no serious complications so far.

Odell had wrapped the baby in Tern's sweatshirt.  Terri, who had
managed to wiggle back into her clothes, wrapped her wretched blanket
around her shoulders and watched Odell anxiously.  "Can I hold her
now?"  she asked Odell.

Odell looked up.  "That's not a good idea, dear.  You dont want to get
too attached to her."

"Why in the hell not?"

Odell cast her eyes heavenward.  "Please, your language.  It will be
that much harder when you have to give her over to her new parents. The
couple I've selected are so excited--"

"I'm not giving her up," Terri said.  "I'm keeping her."  "Now, Terri,
you know that would be foolish.  You can't even provide for yourself,
much less a helpless baby.  If you really care for the child, you'll
want what's best for her.  Anyway, you dont have a choice in the
matter."

"Like hell!  You might have taken the other girls' babies away from
them, but not mine.  it's over, Odell, can't you see that?"  "It's not
over yet," Odell said harshly.  "Amanda will bring the cops--"

"Then why hasn't she?  Why hasn't anyone come to rescue you, hmm?  I
still have hope.  If Henry stopped her before she could tell anyone,
we're still in business."

"Henry's the one who helped us escape," Terri said delianfly.  Odell
shook her head.  "That might have been his original intention, but I
think he changed his mind.  He Wasn't at the home when I got there, and
he took Phoebe with him--and his gun."  That silenced the chit.

Lord, she hoped she was right about Henry.  That was another probleTM.
She'd given him far too much trust, and he'd betrayed her--after all
she'd done for him.  She'd taken him in when his own parents had become
afraid of him; she'd counseled him and tutored him, took him to church,
taught him how to cook and wash so he could take care of himself when
he no longer had her.  He worshipped her, and it seemed inconceivable
that he would defy or deceive her.  But apparently he had.

What a burden her life had become.  But this--this new life in her
arms--made everything worthwhile.

"What are you going to do with me, now that I've had the baby?"  Terri
asked.  "Are you going to drug me and dump me--" The words caught in
her throat.  She looked past OdeH toward a boarded-up window.

Odell turned to look, too.  One of the boards hung loose, letting in a
stream of light.  But she saw nothing there out of the ordinary.  She
returned her attention to Terri.  "I'm not sure what I'll do with you,"
Odell said earnestly.  "You and Amanda know the name of the town we're
near, thanks to Henry's big mouth.  I can't just release you."

"I won't tell," Terri said.  Her eyes darted to the window again.

Odell laughed without humor.  "You would go right to the police and you
know it."

"She won't'have to."  A stranger burst into the shack, gun drawn and
pointing straight at Odell--and Straight at the baby.

Terri screamed.

Odell stared in disbelief as she backed up against a wall, holding the
baby closer against her chest with hands still bloodied from the
delivery.  Staring at the intruder, Odell realized she wasn't a
stranger after all.  "Marie?"  Odell asked in a shaky voice.

"Detective Corporal Carolyn Triece, Dallas Police Department.  You're
under arrest."

Odell looked quickly from side to side.

"Don't even think about it," the woman said.  "My partner is at the
window behind you.  There's no escape.  I want you to slowly give the
baby to Terri over there, then put your hands in the air."

Odell felt a rush of desperation welling up inside her.  Now she knew
what an animal felt like when it had been cornered by a hunter.  Her
whole world was crumbling.  "No, I won't do it," she said, scarcely
breathing the words.

"You have no choice," a man's voice chimed in.  He'd entered from the
other side of the shack, gun drawn.  Bella had followed him.

My God, even her dog had betrayed her, Odell thought.  But she wasn't
finished.  No, not by a long shot.  She held the trump card.  She held
the baby.  No cop would shoot a woman holding an infant.

"Of course I have a choice," Odell said, growing more sum of herself.
"As long as I'm holding the baby, you can't do anything."

"Oh, yeah?"  the man said.  He stuck his gun in a holster under his arm
and took two threatening steps toward Odell.

The moment he moved, she shifted the baby into the crook of her left
arm, revealing the .38 she'd slipld out of her jacket pocket.  "Stop
right there.  I'll kill you."

The man froze.

"Or her."  Odeli nodded toward Terri.  "Or the baby," she added
recklessly.  She had the power.  God would protect her, as He always
had.  "I'm walking away from all of you right now, and you can't stop
me.  You can't!"

"There's nothing for you to go back to," the lady cop said
con-fidenfiy.  "Your home is crawling with police officers.  Your
nephew is in custody, soon to be charged with murder."

That little bombshell threw Odell.  "Murder?  If this is about Marcy
Phelps--"

"Not Marcy.  We know she died of natural causes.  I'm talking about the
other four.  Henry says he killed four women and stuffed the bodies
down a well.  He was trying to strangle Amanda Arkin when we caught up
with him."

Odell felt the blood drain from her face.  Dizzy, she staggered before
regaining her balance.

The man moved forward again.  Odell tightened the grip on her revolver
and pointed it at him.  "No closer."  She could see the indecision
playing on his face; he thought she was bluffing.  Aiming just past his
shoulder, she squeezed off a shot.  The gun's report was deafening. The
bullet lodged in a wall, sending bits of wood and plaster flying
through the room.  Then all was silent.  Even th stopped crying.

Now they knew who was in charge here, Odell thought smugly as she
viewed the three pairs of wide, startled eyes.  "Move away from the
door," she said to Marie--or whatever her name was.

The lady cop held her ground.  "No," she said.  "If you know your way
around guns, you know either Austin or I could shoot you without
injuring the baby."

"You wouldn't risk it," Odell said, although the gritty deter-ruination
in the woman's eyes worried her.  Good Lord, how in the world had she
ever assumed this cop was a young girl?

"Try firing that gun again and you'll find out," the man called Austin
said, his voice grim.

"You would shoot me in cold blood for trying to save the lives' of
unborn children?"  Odell said, shaking her head in disbelief.  "What
kind of people are you?"

Odell watched the lady cop closely.  An understanding seemed to come
over her face.  After a tense silence, during which the players in this
deadly game watched' one another, sizing one another up, the lady cop
spoke again.  "If this is about saving lives, you wouldn't shoot
anyone," she said.  "You could kill all of us and escape with the baby,
but escape to what?  You can't return to your home.  Your girls are
gone.  Your nephew is in jail.  Your brother has fled the country.  You
have nothing to gain by running and everything to gain by cooperating.
As a fugitive, you can't save any more babies."

Odell weighed the cop's words.  If she ran, what would she be running
to?  She couldn't start up her operation again, not without money, a
home, or Travis's help.

The baby began oting again, as if on cue.

"You've saved this one," the woman said.  "And Marcy's baby.  Doesn't
that count for something?  Isn't it enough?"

"I've saved three others, too," Odell said, raising her chin in
defiance.  "But it's not enough.  Thirty-four.  I must save...
thirty-four...."  The enormity of her task hit her then.  She would
never reach her goal now.  It truly was over.  And trading on this
baby's innocence by using it as a pawn wasn't going to make her path to
heaven any smoother--or's low her descent to hell.  Before she even
realized she'd given up, the gun slipped from her limp fingers.

The two cops rushed forward at once.  The baby squalled, and Terri
screamed again.

In seconds it was over.  The baby was stripped from her grasp and given
to its mother.  Odell abrnpfiy found herself facedown on the floor with
a knee pressed into her back.  Her wrists were cuffed behind her back
with a strip of plastic.

Adding insult to injury, Bella trot/axl over and sniffed at Odell's
prone form, whined in confusion, then looked back to the man.  The man
absently scratched the dog behind her ears and, apparently reassured,
she licked his hand.  Damn dog.  Loyal as a whom, Odell thought
irreverently.

They were a strange little procession hiking through the woods.  Odell
was in front, silent and stoic.  Caro walked slightly behind and to the
side, holding Odell by the arm both to support her and prevent her from
making any sudden moves.  Austin followed, carrying Terri and the baby.
Bella the German shepherd brought up the rear.

A legion of lawmen and two paramedics with a stretcher met them about
halfway, much to Caro's relief.  She was more than happy to turn mother
and newborn over to the medical experts But she kept a firm grip on her
prisoner, never mind what that did to her hands.  Odell was her
responsibility, and she wouldn't let up until the woman was safely
behind bars.

Austin fell in step beside her.  "You've read Odell the Miranda,
right?"

"Yes."  Ordinarily Caro would have taken offense at what would appear
an obvious lack of confidence in her abilities.  But in this instance
she knew better.  Having come this far, Austin was entitled to double
and triple-check every detail.

Besides, he was the lead detective in this case, a fact she'd rather
conveniently forgotten when the tension was high.  Letting her
instincts rule, she'd run roughshod over everyone in sight, Austin
included.  But it certalmy wasn't because she didn't believe he was
capable.

She hoped he understood that.

When their procession emerged from the cover of the woods, cheers and
whistles rang out.  Amanda, who probably would have returned to the
shack if the sheriff had allowed her to, now ran up to the stretcher
and awkwardly embraced Terri and the baby.  But the hug lasted only
moments as the paramedics shooed Amanda away and headed for the
ambulance.

Sheriff Fowles, easily identified by his shiny gold badge and a certain
seasoned look, approached Caro.  "Good work," he said tersely.

"Thanks."  Cato wondered if perhaps they'd stolen his glory by
capturing Odell and Henry without his aid.

"We'll take her now," hi said, reaching toward Odell

"No!  I mean, I'd like to bein on the--"

"She's all yours," Austin interrupted, relinquishing his hold on
Odell.

Caro turned to object, but the adamant look in Austin's eyes silenced
her.  She watched as the sheriff escorted the prisoner to a squad car
and assisted her into the back seat.  A sinking feeling settled in her
stomach--the comedown from her adrenaline high, no doubt.

"Our job's done for now," Aust said.

"Who's going to interrogate them?"  she asked.

"I will.  Later.  We'll let the locals book them here for whatever, and
then we'll get Odell extradited to Dallas for the kidnapping charge."

"I'm sure a few other police departments across the state will want to
take a crack at her, too," Cato said.  "She's kidnapped girls from all
over Texas."

"Don't worry, we'll get her first.  But meanwhile..."  He nodded toward
the ambulance, where the paramedics were closing the rear doors on
Tern's stretcher.  "You have an appointment with the hospital, I
believe."

"Hey, I'm okay--"

"Don't even think about arguing.  Unless you'd rather retire from the
force with a disability.  It's kind of hard to be a detective when your
hands have rotted off from gangrene--"

"Okay, okay."

Austin waved down the paramedics.  They took one look at Caro's hands
and stridently insisted she come with them to the emergency room.

A smug smile flashed briefly across Austin's face but was immediately
replaced with a look of concern.  "I'll clean up here and then I'll
join you, okay?"

"Don't bother yourself," she said, just to irritate him.  "Do what you
need to do."

He refused to be irritated.  "I'll be there inside an hour.  Don't go
anywhere.  I dont plan to chase you all over Texas a second time." Then
he leaned over and brushed her lips with his.

The kiss was unexpected, not to mention unprofessional.  She was about
to berate him for it, but somehow she couldn't find the words.  A few
minutes later, as she rode in the back of the ambulance with a
talkative Terri and her bawling infant, Caro realized she felt too
relieved and happy to be mad at anybody.

The next few hours went by in a blur, thanks to painkilling wonder
drugs.  Cato vaguely remembered doctors and nurses working on her hands
and her back, cleaning, medicating, bandaging her up like a mummy.  She
remembered dozing for a while in a waiting room.  When she'd awakened,
feeling a bit more lucid, she'd decided to visit Terri and the baby.

That was where Austin finally found her.  He'd been gone much longer
than the hour he'd promised, but Care didn't begrudge him the time.
Given the pandemonium that was reigning as she'd been carted off in the
ambulance, she was surprised he'd broken away before midnight.

Austin took a brief statement from Terri, but her answers were less
than complete.  Clearly she wanted to put the Ordeal behind her and
focus on the future--her baby.

"Her name's Sally," Terri offered proudly.  "Do you want to hold
her?"

"Oh, go on, Austin," Care said, hiding her smile.  Unable to weasel out
of it, Austin cradled the infant clumsily against his chest, a dopey
grin on his face, and Care thought he'd never looked more appealing.

Promising to check on Terri soon, Austin and Care left the room and
headed down the long corridor toward the hospital's front entrance. Now
that they were alone, Austin had fallen oddly silent.  It almost seemed
that, without a life-and-death situation he-tween them, he was ill at
ease.

As they exited the hospital, two people waved at them from the parking
lot.  It was Amanda on crutches... and Russ, Care realized with a
start.  She almost hadn't recognized him with that big smile on his
face.

"Daddy, that's them, the ones who saved me," Amanda said excitedly as
she hobbled closer.  She was smiling, too.  In fresh clothes and
wearing makeup, she looked much more like her picture.  Other than a
sprained knee and some bruises on her neck, she didn't appear to be
badly traumatized by her experience.  "I'd introduce you," she said,
"but I dont even member your names."

"We've met," Russ said.  He shook hands with Austin.  "Thank you,
Corporal Lomax.  I understand you did a helluva job with this thing."

Austin actually scuffed his feet.  "Hey, no charge."

For a moment Russ just stared at Care.  Then he opened his arms and
enveloped her in a bear hug.  "Thanks for bringing my girl home safe,"
he whispered in her ear.

Care awkwardly hugged him back.

"How's Terri?"  Amanda asked.

"She's fine," Care replied.  "I've never seen such a doting mother.  go
of that

"She's going to come live with us until she gets her life straightened
out," Amanda announced proudly.  "Daddy said it was okay."

"Sweetheart, she might not even want to come to Dallas," Russ pointed
out.

"Well, she's not going back to live with her father, that's for sure,"
Amanda huffed.  "He beats her."

"No, we won't let that happen," Russ agre in a soothing voice.  They
all exchanged a bit more small talk before going their separate ways.
Care started to open the passenger door of Austin's Bronco, then drew
back in alarm.  There were two huge dogs in the back.  "Oh, Austin, you
didn't..."

Austin shrugged apologetically.  "The sheriff was going to have them
destroyed.  They're not bad dogs, once you get to know them.  And I
think Shadow might like having a couple of girlfriends."  He opened his
door, reassured the dogs, then indicated that it was safe for Care to
get in.

She did.  Oddly, she wasn't the least bit afraid.  If Austin said they
were okay, she believed him.

They remained silent for the next several minutes.  Caro's hands were
starting to sting again, and she took that as a sign that she was
coming out of her painkiller fog.  She had a bottle of prescription
pills in her purse, but she decided not to take any.  Better to put up
with some discomfort than to feel like she had cotton batting wrapped
around her head.

"I didn't even ask you how everything came out," she said, breaking the
silence.  "I felt kind of bad, cutting out like I did and dumping the
cleanup detail in your lap.  Then again, it is your

Cas."  '

"Is it?  Could have fooled me earlier today when you were shouting out
orders like a marine drill sergeant."

Care bit her lip.  He was right.  Without even thinking about it, she'd
blithely taken over the situation, making decisions without even
consulting Austin.  And damn if he hadn't let her, now that she thought
about it.  "Er, sorry about that.  I guess I was going on instinct."

He surprised her by laughing.  "Caro, believe it or not, I didn't care
who was running things so long as the job got done--which it did. Being
in charge ain't all it's cracked up to be.  And if there's any glory to
he had, you can have it.  I'm just lad it's over."

Cato could hardly believe her ears.  Was this the same hot dog who'd
resented her offer of help les than two weeks ago?

"I talked to Chief Raines," Austin said, grinning.  "He was plearx.  to
hear you'd jumped in with both feet.  He thinks he's going to lure you
back to CAPERS--maybe Homicide Section this time."  '

She snorted.  "Yeah, right."

"So you're just going to go back to your nice safe little Missing
Persons work"

Now that he mentioned it, the prospect was not all that appealing.
After the mental and physical challenges she'd met since working on
this case, the idea of sitting at a desk with a phone in her ear all
day was less than alluring.

"You didn't answer fight away."

"Yes, I'm going back to Missing Persons," she replied testily.  And she
would think about putting in an application for transfer to CAPERS. But
she wouldn't tell anyone--not Austin or Tony or Chief Raines.  This was
a decision she had to make on her own..

Chapter 20

Pho he the bloodhound nuzzled Caro's ear from the back seat. 
Irritated, she elbowed the dog away.  But she found it endearing that
Austin had discovered a soft place in his heart for a couple of mutts
who earlier today had threatened to eat him.

"Did you get Odell and Henry magistrated?"  she asked, now that her
mind was functioning again.

"Yeah.  The judge charged them with kidnapping and false imprisonment,
then gave me authority to transport them back to Dallas for
questioning."

taro shook her head, confused.  "Then why aren't you there, questioning
them?"

"Odell won't say a word until she has a lawyer, and that will tala
while.  Henry... well, he's not exactly in touch with reality.  We sent
him to the psych ward at Parkland for evaluation.  Besides, I told you
I would come to the hospital, and I wanted to'd that."

"I would have waited," she said offhandedly.  But it touched her that
he'd thought it important to keep his word.  "Any idea who has
jurisdiction over this thing?"

"I imagine Clemson County will get the trial for false imprisonment. 
As for the kidnappings, all of the various DAs involved are going to
get together and decide where the best place would he to try the
case."

"I hove they ovt for one big trial rather than multiple trials all over
the s' tate.  "Otherwise we'll spend the rest of our natural liveS
testifying."

Austin nodded.  "I think that's the plan-one big trial."

"What about the murder chargeS against Henry?"

He hesitated before answering.  "Unless we can come up with some
bodies, he probably won't he charged.  When I brought up the subject
again, he acted like he didn't know what I was talking about.  He might
have made the whole thing up.  Like I said, he and reality axe only
passing acquaintances."

"If he didn't kill those girls, where are they?"

"Tony's checking into it.  Unfortunately, we dont have their full
nameS--Odell's not talking."

Care mulled this over.  Her gut told her there was something to Henry's
impromptu confession.  If she could just talk to Henry for ten minutes,
she would know.  Maybe they would put him on medication at Parkland
that would malCe him lucid again.  Then she'd like a crack at him.
She'd find out where those bodieS were if she had toMy God, what was
she thinking?  Images of Charlie Northcutt assaulted her.  She could
still hear the echo of her own voice... "Let me take a crack at him.  I
know he's guilty as hell, I dont care what his mother says.  I'll get a
confeSsion out of him if I have to pull it out his nose."

"You okay?"  Austin asked.  "We can stop some place and get something
to drink if you need to take some of that Darvon."  "No, I'm fine."

"No thanks to me, right?"  He gave a halfhearted laugh.  Caro's heart
constricted at the thought of Austin blaming himself for her injuries,
the kidnapping, the whole foul-up this morning.  Although during her
captivity she herself had harbored fond plans to punch Austin's lights
out, her anger had been fleeting--probably manufactured so she could
focus on something other than' her fear.  Since she had learned what
happened in the grocery store parking lot, she knew Austin wasn't at
fault.

She peered at him surreptitiously through her lashes, and what she saw
on his face made her whole body ache, obliterating even the pain of her
burns.  He didn't just feel guilty; he was consumed with self-blame.

At that moment she felt a connection with him so strong it took her
breath away.  As if she'd crawled right into his head, she knew exactly
what he was feeling.  She'd felt the same crippling emo death.  For
fbur her from the work she loved.  She couldn't stand it if Austin
allowed that to happen to him.

"I know it wasn't your fault," she said softly.

He looked like he'd just tasted something sour.  "It was my operation.
I was responsible for your safety.  If not mine, whose fault could it
possibly be?"

"No one's.  It's just one of those things.  What could you have done
differently?"

"I could have gone after you the moment I lost voice contact with you,"
he said harshly.  "But no, I was so damn concerned about blowing our
cover and ruining my brilliant plan that I let that crazy woman snatch
you off the street right under my nose."  "What did Tony want to do?"

"That doesn't matter.  The decision was my responsibility."  He took a
deep breath and continued.  "When I realized you were gone this
morning, you can't imagine what that did to me.  I was really scared
that something awful would happen to you, that I would never see you
again, never get a chance to tell you--"

"Austin please, dont."  She wanted to know how he felt about her--but
not here, not like this, not when the burden of his guilt clouded his
emotions.  He might be grateful she was alive, relieved that she wasn't
seriously injured.  Guilt could easily magnify those feelings into
something more.  She didn't want to hear him say something he might
have to take back later, when he was thinking more clearly.

Maybe she was even more fearful of having to reciprocate, to tell him
how she felt.  She wasn't ready.  She might never be ready.  "It wasn't
your fault," she said again.

He stared straight ahead, hands gripping the steering wheel, a muscle
in his jaw working furiously.

Caro could see that arguing was useless.  She could forgive Austin from
now till the cows came home and it wouldn't make a dent in his misery.
He needed to forgive himlf, first, and that was something no person
could do for another.  '

She understood that concept better than anyone would ever know.

Catching a serial kidnapper was a cinch comp axed to the aftermath,
Austin thought irritably as he withstood another round of questioning,
this time by Deputy Chief Raines, and the Chief was not nearly as
enamored with Austin as the reporters had been.  The two of them went
over every.  nuance of the events that had oc cuffed the morning of
Caro's kidnapping not once, not twice, but three times.

Each time Austin calmly answered the Chief's questions.  It was on the
tip of his tongue to apologize for the foul-up, to admit that he'd been
too green to run a covert operation of that magnitude, to beg for
another chance.  But he did none of those things.  Sometime during the
night, he had come to the conclusion that, were he faced with the same
situation again, he would probably do exactly as he'd done.  If that
made him a bad cop... well, he was about to find out just exacfiY how
faulty his judgment had been.

"How long was it between the time you lost voice contact and the time
you left the van?"  Raines asked.

"Fro not sure.  About frye minutes, I think.  Long enough for Cato to
get through the checkout line."

"And when did the truck pull in front of the store?"

"After the truck pulled up, it was no more than a few seconds before
V'dlaverde and I left the van."

"A few seconds?"

"Twenty-two seconds, okay?"  Austin snapped, losing his patience.  He
had a sudden sympathy for all the witnesses he'd ever interviewed who
couldn't remember exactly what they'd seen or done, the exact time
frame.  He removed his glasses and wiped his hand over his face.  "I
wasn't looking at a watch, okay?"

"Yeah, okay."  Raines jotted a few notes down.  "If I'm being overly
thorough, it's because my butt could be on the line over this thing.  I
was in on the planning stages of the operation, remember.  I okayed it
down to the last detail.  And I have to answer to the Big

Guy for any, er, irregularities."

"I understand."

There was a tap at the door.  Chief Raines, suddenly all smiles,
motioned for someone to enter.  Austin didn't have to turn around to
know who it was.  He felt her, smelled her, sensed her on some psychic
level.

"Cato, my God, you look likg the Mumroy's Wife," Raines said, staring
at her bandaged hands.  "What are you do' rag here?  I derstood you
were under strict orders to stay home and rest."

"Orders from whom?"  she said, her eyebrows arched almost to her
hairline.  She gave Austin an accusing glance, as if perhaps he'd had
the temerity to give her an order.  He shrugged?  as if to say "It
wasn't me."

She busied herself digging into her purse, coming up moments later with
the decimated body mike with bits of tape hanging off it.  She dropped
it onto Raines's desk.  "I think you need to send this back to the
Cracker Jack company," she said, straight-faced.

"Maybe next time we can spring for a piece of equipment from a
bubble-gum machine."

Austin smiled inwardly.  He should have known Care wouldn't stand idly
by if she suspected he was getting a grilling.  She probably thought
that if she made it clear she didn't blame Austin for the kidnapping,
no one else would, either.  It was a noble gesture, barging in here
full of disdain for the faulty body mike, but unnecessary.  Austin and
Tony had both explained numerous times about the equipment failure.
"Still, he was touched that Care thought she had to "save" him.

Raines cleared his throat.  "I've been apprised of the problem with the
mike," he said.  Then he added, almost as an afterthought, "The press
is going to have a field day with that angle.  I can see the headline
now--Budget Cuts Leave Police with See-end-Rate Equipment, something
like that."

"maybe it'll work in our favor," Austin felt obliged to point out.
There was little enough to be optimistic about.  "Maybe next time we'll
get the use of some better equipment."

Raines shrugged.  "Maybe.  Care, how did you burn yourself?  That seems
to be the one answer no one has."

She shuddered delicately.  "All right, I guess I'll have to reveal my
idiocy sooner or later.  My hands were tied behind my back, and I
wanted to free them, so I found some matches and burned the cord, along
with several layers of skin."

Austin swallowed hard, imagining the courage it must have taken to hold
a burning match while it seared flesh.

Chief Raines paled.  "Damn, Cam."

"When you think about it, it was all for nothing.  Minutes after I
escaped, the entire Clemson County Sheriff's Department descended on
the Good Shepherd Home.  If I'd just sat in that closet for a few more
minutes, I'd have been rescued."  She gave Austin a meaningful look.

"Somehow," Austin said, "I can't picture you sitting around waiting to
be tee, cued."

She narrowed her eyes.  "Was that a compliment or an insult?"  "Oh,
definitely a compliment."

Raines cleared his throat again, as if to say he didn't want any
teasing banter in his office, not when he was trying to unravel the
messiest day in recent Dallas Police Department history.  "Seriously,
Cam," he said, "I understand you dida helluva job yesterday.  This
Sheriff Fowles thinks you're tile best thing to come along since chunky
peanut butter, and the girl's father, What's-His-Name Arkin, thinks you
should be given a medal or something.  Why dont you put in an
application--"

Caro's expression immediately shuttered.  "Could we talk about this
later?"

Raines nodded, looking decidedly disappointed.  "Yeah, sure.  Run
along, both of you.  Caro, go home if you're not feeling up to parDon't let Sergeant Quayar give you any flack about it, either.

And Lomax--"

"Yes, sir?"

"I dont think you have anything to worry about.  In your position, I'd
have done the same thing.  For what it's worth, I dont believe you and
Villaverde were in any way remiss in your duty."

"It's worth a lot," Austin said.  "Thanks."  As soon as they were out
of the Chief's earshot, he added in an undertone, "No matter what he
says, I think Raines is si?.ing you up to fill a vacancy in
Homicide--mine."

"Oh, Lomax, they wouldn't fire you over this.  If they do, I'll... I'll
resign, too, as a protest."

He grinned at her passionate offer.  "I dont think that'll be
necessary.  You know how it is," he said as they walked back through
the maze of desks to his cubbyhole.  "Any time an undercover operation
goes wrong, the brass has to scrutinize it ten ways to Sunday, just to
make sure it doesn't happen again.  I dont'really think my fat's in
the fire."

"Please, dont mention

"Sorry.  How bad is it?  I mean, does it hurt?  Now?"

Cato grimaced.  "Not fily," she said, though he suspected she was
underplaying her discomfort.  He'd burned his hand on a stove once, and
he could still vividly remember the mind-numbing pain.  That was only a
minor injury compared to Caro's.  He still didn't understand how she'd
managed to get far enough past the pain to do everything she'd done
that day.

"The burns really aren't that serious," she said.  "But I'll always
have scars on my hands and back."

"Your back?"  He hadn't realized.

"My sweater caught fire.  I told you it was dumb."

"I think it was incredibly brave."  Since she looked uncomfortable with
his praise, he quickly changed the subject.  "Did you hear the latest?"
he asked, flipping absently through his phonemes-.  sages.  "I
interrogated Odell this morning and she decided to cooperate.  Spilled
her guts.  It's a sad story, really.  It seems her father, a doctor,
forced her to help him perform abortions back when she was a teenager.
For years she was convinced she was doomed to hell.  And then she came
up with this scheme to sa the same

"Is that what she meant when she kept saying 'thirty-four'?"  Cato
asked.

Austin nodded.  "Seems kind of crazy to think she could earn points
with God by kidnapping teenagers."

"Kind of?"  Cato sat on the edge of Austin's desk.  "Why couldn't she
join a protest at an abortion clinic like all the other pro-lifers?"

"You have to admit, she was one clever lady to pull it off for as long
as she did."

"What about Henry?  Did you ask her about the murders?"  "Odell
admitted that Henry was 'odd," but that's all she'd give him.  She
didn't believe he was capable of killing, although she didn't rule it
out completely.  And the girls who had their babies at the Home--" He
picked up a list from his desk.  "Odeil gave their names as Jennifer
Brown from San Antonio, and Tanya Liese and Jillian Wysocki from
Houston.  There was another one, Heather.  Collins from Austin, who
miscarried.  Odell says she gave them a tranquilizer, and then Henry
drove them away and abandoned them in places where they'd be found and
returned to their homes."  "And?"

"All four are still missing."

Caro winced.  "How about that?  This ease might turn out to be a
homicide, after all."

"I'm willing to bet on' it.  Incidentally, I spoke with Henry's doctor
a few minutes ago.  He's responding well to medication, and we can
question him now.  I was on my way to Parkland when His

Highness summoned me."  Austin shrugged into his leather jacket.  "Mind
if I tag along?"

That surprised him.  He'd thought Cato would stay as far away as
possible from Henry's interrogation.  "Sure, if you're up to it."

They took the elevator down to the basement garage--the only place he
could park where the reporters couldn't follow.  On the short drive up
1-35 to Parkland Hospital, he paid close attention to Caro.  Her face
was a tight mask of tension--whether from apprehension or the
discomfort of her burned hands, he could only guess.

A receptionist directed them up to the psych unit on the eighth floor.
Them, a psychiatrist by the name of Dr.  Wayne Lassiter met them.  He
expounded at length on Henry's condition--officially diagnosed as
schizophrenia.

"I've seldom seen such an elaborate delusional framework as Henry has
construe led the doctor enthused.  "He aPt intently has numerous voices
who have been speaking with him since child-hood--God's messengers,
angels, whatever.  The delusion itself isn't so uncommon.  But the fact
that he's been able to hide it from others all these years, to pass
himself off as merely 'odd'--that's the fascinating thing.  It's a
shame he didn't get psychiatric intervention before now."

A shame?  Austin thought it was more like a tragedy of disastrous
proportions, and the parents of those missing girls--undoubtedly
dead--would likely agree with him.

"Will he be competent to stand trial?"  Austin asked..

"I expect so.  However, I'd be surprised if you get a conviction."

"Not guilty by reason of insanity," Austin murmured.  "Helluva break
for him, if he did what I think he did."

Austin and Cam were taken to an observation room, where from the
outside they could look through-a two-way mirror and see Henry within,
chatting casually with a suited man who was no doubt his attorney.  His
grimaces and facial tics, so evident the day before, were almost
unnoticeable today.

"You can go on in," the doctor said.  "I'll he observing, but only to
monitor Henry's mental state.  I understand that you need to do your
jobs, but if I feel the questioning is doing him harm, I have the right
to call a halt."

Austin didn't care who listened, so long as they didn't blab to the
press.  He reached for the doorknob, but before he could twist it, Caro
laid a hand on his.  "Wait."

He looked at her expectantly.  He'd known that sooner or later she
would get cold feet.

"I want to do it."

"You're kidding," Austin blurted out.

"I want to interrogate Henry.  I think I can get him to tell me where
those bodies are."

Austin could think of nothing he'd like better than to see Caro rip
Henry a new one.  Mentally ill or not, the guy had squeezed the life
out of four innocent young girls.  He didn't deserve to be handled with
kid gloves.  And may he she could exorcise a few ghosts of her own.

Austin opened the door and gestured for her to enter.  "Be my guest,"
he said, making sure she knew how pleased he was.  "I'll be right
outside.  Yell if you want some support."

She flashed a nervous smile and entered the room, closing the door
behind her.  Austin watched through the mirror as she greeted Henry
affably.

Henry stood and extended his hand.  "Hello, ma'am," he said.  "Do you
remember me?"  she asked.

well.

Austin couldn't help but admire Caro's skillful questioning of the
suspect.  She handled Henry very differently from the way she'd treated
Ray Se'd ert.  She never lost her temper, or even raised her voice,
perhaps sensing that to scare Henry would he counterproductive.

With questions that grew increasingly Provocative, Cato led Henry up to
the night 0dell had delivered the first baby and drugged the young
mother, Tanya Liese.  Henry maintained that he had driven several hours
away to the outskirts of Houston, where he'd deposited Tanya in a
convenience store parking lot.

"Can you ten if he's lying?"  Austin asked the doctor.

"It's hard to say.  If this story is part of his delusion, he'll stick
to it like glue.  He might have convinced himself that the lie is
true."

Inquiries about the other two missing girls brought similar responses.
Then Cato changed tack.  She began what sounded like an innocent
discussion of the land surrounding the Good Shepherd Maternity Home, of
Henry's hunting adventures with Phoebe the bloodhound, his fondness for
hiking and nature.  He revealed that while his father had not actually
taught him to shoot a gun, he had given him permission to use a large
hunting lease that a client had given him in lieu of a legal fee.

"There's an old hunting lodge there and everything, with animal heads
on the walls.  Aunt Odell let me stay there overnight once."

"Sounds like a wonderful place," Cato said wryly.

Austin squirmed at the thought of sleeping in a room with dead animals
peering down at him from the walls.

"Does anyone else use the lease?"  Cato asked.

Henry shrugged.  "I dont think so.  I've never seen anyone there, and
there's plenty of game."

Caro cocked her head to one side and placed one finger on her chin. "Is
there by any chance... a well on this property?"

Henry's gaze shifted from side to side, his mouth working furiously
while no words came out.

Clever girl, Cato, Austin silently cheered.  He'd never have thought to
go this roundabout path toward the truth.  Get off the subject of the
missing gifts altogether, and the delusional framework doesn't get in
the way.

"It ... a well?"  Henry stammered, turning pale.  "I dont kn w. I
never... noticed, I dont think."

"Yes, you do know, Henry.  You remember.  It's the well that's full of
dead bodies--the girls you killed because they had the devil in
them."

Henry shook his head vehemently.  "I never killed no girls."

"Are you sure, Henry?"  Cato asked.  "You told Amanda you killed
them."

"Amanda lies.  She has the devil in her."

"Is that why you tried to kill her?"  When he remained sullenly silent,
Caro continued.  "I saw you with your hands around her neck, Henry.
Would you have put her in the well with the others to rot?"

"I wouldn't have killed her," he said.  "She has a baby inside lax, so
I couldn't.  I just wanted to teach her a lesson.  She mined
everything.  She pretended she wanted to be my girlfriend, and she made
me lie to Aunt Odell.  Because of her I almost..."

Austin could see the doctor growing more agitated.  He would have
called a halt to the questioning, but Austin laid a hand on his arm.
"Wait, just one more minute.".

"Almost what, Henry?"  Caro said.

"I almost hurt a baby, an innocent."

"And that would have been much different than killing, say, a girl
who'd just had a baby."

Henry nodded enthusiastically, as if relieved that someone finally
understood his dilemma.

Cato stood.  "Okay, Henry, that's enough for now.  You've been a big
help.  Would it be okay if I came and talked to you again?"  "Sure."

She said goodbye to the lawyer, who understandably looked a bit green.
But there'd been little he could do.  Caro hadn't even come close to
infringing upon Henry's rights..

She came out of the observation room, allowing the doctor to go inside
and soothe his patient.  As soon as the door closed, she slumped
against it, nearly gasping for air.  She'd been more nervous than she'd
let on.

Austin grinned.  "That was a thing of beauty."  "Then why am I sick to
my stomach?"  "You probably just need some lunch."  "No, what I need is
a hug."

He tensed, remembering the last time he'd hugged her.  Ignorant of her
injuries, he'd hurt her and she'd pushed him away.

"I'm serious, Austin.  My knees are like a couple of wet noodles."

He could hardly say no.  Mindful of the bandage beneath her sweater at
the small of her back, he embraced her gingerly.  "Harder," she said.

He obliged, although it was sweet torture holding her warmth against
him, smelling the delicate scent of her hair, fe ling her breathe.  He
stroked her hair and didn't even try to suppress the passionate
thoughts that assailed him.  Such thoughts had predictable biological
results, and he hoped she noticed.  He wanted her to know exactly what
she did to him.  She could stop him from telling her how he felt, but
there were some things Care and a whole SWAT team couldn't stop.

"Better?"  he asked after a minute or two.

"Yes, much.  I think I can walk now."  She took a deep breath and let
it out in a loud puff.  "Let's see if we can track down Travis Beaman's
hunting lease.  I'll bet Sheriff Fowles can find it.  And then I'll
take you up on lunch.  My treat, though.  I owe you one."

When they got outside, Austin noticed for the first time that day how
gorgeous the weather was--not too cold or windy, with the sky an
unimpeachable blue.  A billboard over the highway admonished drive-by
football fans to cheer for the Cowboys, and he realized that he had no
idea whether America's team had made it to the playoffs.

He opened the Bronco's passenger door and handed Care inside.  She
didn't seem to mind his occasional show of gallantry, and he liked that
about her.  He'd once thought she might be a tad'd fen sive about her
femininity because of the way she dressed and her tough facade, but
he'd come to realize that that was just Care.  She dressed for comfort,
she wore makeup if she felt like it and she didn't take crap from
anyone, man or woman

Now, if he could just get her femininity to respond to him .... He
climbed in and stuck his key in the ignition.  "Hey, Austin, before we
go back to work..."  "Yeah?"

"I never even thanked you for coming to rescue me."

"I lost you.  It was my duty to find you," he said simply.  "Anyway, it
wasn't much of a rescue."

"It was more than duty.  You tried to tell me, and I cut you off at the
knees.  All I offered you were smart-ass quips.  I'm sorry."

He shook his head.  "No apology necessary.  We were both under a lot of
strain."  He reached for the ignition again, but she laid her bandaged
hand over his and stopped him.

"I'm trying to get something going here," she said.  "A little
heart-to-heart discussion, you know?"

Austin pulled his hand away.  He couldn't think clearly with her
touching him.  "Will you hear me out this time?"

"yes."

And was he really ready to risk getting blown out of the water again?
He'd already reconciled himself to the fact that' Care wasn't ready for
a relationship... not with him, anyway.  Now she was getting his hopes
up again.  To stall, he asked, "What made you change your mind?"

"Oh, I'm feeling different about a lot of things," she said bzily,
although he snsed an underlying tnsion.  "Maybe I'm simply in the mood
to take a chance."

"But maybe I'm not in the mood," he ventur, pcrvly in-tn ding for his
words to sting a bit.  But then he softened and added, "You can't just
expect me to blurt out Something that p-son alon the spur of the
moment."

"Okay, then I'll do the blurting.  You were fight when you said there's
such a thing as a calculated risk.  You're starting to grow on me,
Lomax.  The more time I spend with you, the stronger my attraction
gets.  And even though the odds are against us, I think we'd be crazy
to ignore this... thing that's sprung up between us."

Austin was speechless.  All right, so it wasn't the prettiest
declaration of feelings he'd ever heard, but it was a damn sight more
than he ever expected to hear from Caro Triece's lips.

She stared at him defiantly, arms crossed.  "Okay, it's your

"Right."  He tugged at the neck of his shirt, which suddenly felt too
tight.  This might be the only chance he had to make her understand,
and he'd bet mr get it right.  "Bottom line?  When I thought I might
never see you alive again, my guts were twisted inside out.  I knew
then that I was starting to care for you way too much.  But there's not
a damn thing I can do about it."

He'd innded to be a little more poetic when he told her how he felt.
But apparently whatever he'd said had worked.  She went all misty-eyed
on him.  Before he could do the same, he slipped his hand under her
hair to the nape of her neck and pulled her to him.

The kiss was long and hard and, for once, not tinged with guilt or
hesitation or regret.  When they came up for air, he pressed his cheek
against her hair and inhaled deeply.  The fragrance of her hair would
forever be burned into his memory.

"When you move back over to CAPERS, what Would you think about me as a
partner?"  Austin said.  God, was.  he crazy?  Talking about work at a
time like this?  "Frank Feldman is retiring, you know."

"Who said anything about CAPERS?"-.

"You didn't have to.  You're in that risk-taking mode.  Besides, you
didn't tell Chief Raines no."

She pulled back and looked at him, indecision playing around her face.
"Okay, you caught me.  I'm thinking about it.  But you'd actually want
to partner with me?  And also spend time with me when we're off duty7
Don't you think we might get sick of e other?"

",t in a million years."  He kissed her again, and s;he.sundered to
it.  He knew he had a long, hard battle ahead of him .. this first step
had been the hardest.  Now that she'd forgiven herself for Charlie
Northcutt's death, it was like watching a dorm flower suddenly turn
toward the sun and bloom.  She was reach out for what she wanlexl in
life, what she deserved--including lc And he was just the one to give
it to her.  He would spend the: of his life convincing her that some
risks were worth taking.

Epilogue

The mild March day was perfect for a wedding.  The bride, flouting
public knowledge, wore a dress of frothy white lace that did a good job
of hiding the slight outward curve of her turn roy The groom, lOOking
flushed and eager, tugged at the ,eftliar of his starched shirt with
one hand while holding the bride's hand in a death grip with the other.
The maid of honor stood stiffly next to the bride in a pink taffeta
dress, her hair tortured into unaecus-tomed curls.

The father of the bride grinned like a chimpanzee.  Having just walke..
his daughter down the aisle, his biggest part in the show was over. ere
sat in the first pew of the chapel, as relaxed and happy as anyone had
seen him in a long time.

Caro sat toward the back, willing herself not to cry and make a fool of
herself.  She wasn't normally a sentimental soul.  She'd never been one
to watch a sad movie more than once or get misty-eyed over Kodak
commercials.  But lately it tOOk almost nothing to set her off.

She supposed she had Austin to thank for that.  Over the last couple.
of.m.o.nths he had cour led her relentlessly.  And, unlike most men she
o aa ted he wouldn't be satisfied with dinners and movies and great
sex, either.  He always wanted to talk.  He'd forced her to discuss her
feelings, to reveal parts of her psyche that lad been hidden even

She', raw she'd

She'd the full of feeling Stripped of the protective shell she'd worn
most of her life, she felt everything more deeply.

She supposed she was in love.

Sometimes her new outlook on life felt wonderful, and sometimes it was
a damned nuisance.  L'fice now, she thought as she sniffed into a
tissue.  Why couldn't she just enjoy the exchange of vows between
Amanda Arkin and Scott Humphrey, instead of sniveling like a ninny?

Oh, but the wedding was sweet!  They were just a couple of kids,
totally unprepared for married life.  They both were in school and
neither had any visible means of support other than their parents.  But
their love for each other and for their unborn child demanded nothing
less than this public, legal declaration.

A couple of months ago, Caro would have said the marriage didn't have a
chance in hell.  But maybe it did.  Amanda and Scott were two strong,
good people who were willing to take a calculated risk.  And, as Cato
had recently learned, sometimes calculated risks paid off.

Austin's arm stole around her shoulders, and she placed one gloved hand
on his knee.  This was the first time she and Austin had appeared
together in public as a couple, although they'd been seeing each other
for almost two months.  For a while she'd wanted to hold their
relationship to herself and savor it, fearful that under public
scrutiny it might tarnish.  And Austin had indulged her.  Neither of
them was particularly anxious to become fodder for the police
department grapevine, anyway.

But she'd just discovered that she was inordinately proud to be seen
with Austin, to acknowledge him as her man.  For him she'd worn a
feminine, silky dress she wouldn't be caught dead in at work, and he
was in a suit with a He and everything.  They made a damn fine-looking
couple, even if she did say so herself.

The Beamaus' false imprisonment trial was scheduled for the following
month in Clemson County.  Odell would be tried separately-in Dallas,
thank goodness--for the kidnappings, because apparently Henry had never
taken part in that activity.  But he would have his own day in court,
and it wouldn't be pretty.  Sheriff Fowles and his men had found four
decaying bodies in an abandoned well on Travis Beaman's hunting lease.
Everyone was confident about convictions.

Terri Zamasko had taken refuge with the Arkins as soon as she and her
baby were released from the hospital.  Her father had made no attempt
to get her to come home, which was fine with everyone.  She'd found a
job at a day-care center, where she could keep

Sally with her, and she was planning to move into her own apartment in
a few days.  At night she was studying for her GED.

Probably one of the saddest consequences of the whole Bea-man affair
was the fate of Chloe Krill.  It had taken tremendous courage for her
to come forward, knowing she was risking the loss of her adopted son,
and what she had feared most had come to pass.  Marcy Phelps's parents
had decided they wanted to raise Justin themselves.  The baby was their
last physical tie to their beloved daughter.  And though he felt sorry
for the Krills, they had sued for custody.  Two of the other three
babies Odell had sold were involved in similar situations.

As if that weren't enough for poor Chloe, the State had filed criminal
charges against her and Don for purchasing a child.  Chloe had also
initiated divorce proceedings.

That thought made Caro sob into her tissue, and Austin squeezed her
shoulder.  He leaned over and whispered, "You marshmallow, you."  '

She didn't even argue with him.  Maybe she was getting soft in her old
age.  But she'd come to the eonchision that "soft" wasn't such a bad
state to be in.  She could still interrogate a suspect, as she'd proved
several times over the past couple of weeks since her transfer to
CAPERS--Robbery Division, this time around.  But she found a measure of
understanding for the men from whom she'd wrenched confessions.  She'd
fine-tuned her ability to put herself in another person's place, to
walk in his shoes.  If anything, this made her more skilled in her
dealing with the seamy underworld she regularly encountered.

She left the homicides to Austin, figuring it was best if she didn't
tread on his territory.  He'd certainly become more humble after the
kidnapping ordeal, but he still had a male ego.  If they were going to
maim a go of this relationship thing, she instinctively knew it was
best if they didn't compete at work.

The organist started up the recessional hymn, and Scott and

Amanda marched triUmphantly down the aisle, all smiles.  Terri
followed, teetering precariously in her unfamiliar high heels, but the
groomsman walking next to her steadied her just when she would have
pitched head over heels, and she gave him an embarrassed smile.

As soon as the wedding party had passed, the guests began filing out of
the pews.  Caro started to make her move, but Austin held her back.  He
sat back down and pat led the spot next to him.

"No hurry," he said.  "They'll probably be taking pictures for the next
half

So, what do think alJout this church?  Kinda nice and old-fashioned.
isn't it?

"Yeah," she agreed cautiously.

"I dont know, but there's something about a wedding that makes me want
to run out and buy axing.  You really like this church?"

Caro's heart banged around in her chest like a ricocheting bullet.
"It's nice," she said, her voice shaking.  "But I think they only let
Catholics get married in a Catholic church."

"Oh.  Well, so much for that idea.  Come bn, let's go get drunk on free
champagne."

Caro already felt drunk.  Austin was actually thinking.  about
marriage!  Oh, he wasn't really ready to jump in with both feet.  He
was just testing the waters with one tentative toe, and he'd found them
to be pretty chilly.  But Cato hadn't said, "No way, you're out of your
gourd."  And judging from the mischievous smile on Austin's face, that
fact hadn't escaped him.