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By Root 482 0

the cold. Probably only could tell she was a woman by her coat. Then the Girl Scout. All covered up too. But a lot of girls around. Little girls. He may have just stumbled on them. Felt the rage. See, here? The bullet they took out of her? A twenty–two Long Rifle. A plinker's gun. Not a sniper's. Then the woman in her bathroom. Her naked image against the pebbled glass. Maybe he passed there before. Saw her. Watched. Got the signal and came back. The paper doesn't say what kind of bullet they recovered."

"Burke?"

"What?"

"You're scaring me. Your voice. Like you're…him. Like you see what he saw."

118

BLOSSOM'S PHONE RANG at one in the morning. The caller hung up before the answering machine could kick in. Rang again. Same thing.

Again.

I got up, started to dress in the clothes I'd brought with me.

"Where're you going, baby?"

"I'm not going anywhere. I've been right here, right next to you. All night. Never got out of that bed."

"I'm coming with you."

"No you're not."

"Burke…"

"Shut up, little girl. Close your eyes. I'll be back before you open them."

119

THE CHEVY PULLED UP outside Blossom's, headlights off. I climbed in next to Virgil. Saw Lloyd in the back seat.

"What's he doing here?"

"Caught me sneaking out."

"He knows?"

"You know how we are, brother. One of us got something on his plate, we all got it. Sometimes it ain't gravy."

"Lloyd," I told the boy, "you wait in the car. You wait until we come out, understand? A cop comes by, you stay there. You don't panic, don't run. Worst that happens, they'll take you in. Got it?"

"I got it," he said, voice steady. Streetlights picked up the slash of honor across the bridge of his nose.

"Any luck with the Nazi?" I asked Virgil.

"Reba tracked him right to his house. Lives over in Lake Station. Little nothing of a house, he got. Chain link fence, chest high. Got him a dog, though. Big German shepherd, Reba said. Saw him in the yard."

"Let's see if he wants to talk first."

120

THE BUILDING was dark. Virgil pulled around the back into a narrow alley, climbed out with me. Lloyd slid behind the wheel. Virgil opened the trunk, shouldered the duffel bag.

The lock on the back door was a dead bolt. I couldn't see alarm wires anywhere. I felt crude, clumsy. Wished for the Mole.

"Only one way," I whispered to Virgil. "I'm going to smash a window. Then we wait."

If he was disappointed in his master–criminal brother from New York, it didn't reach his face. He nodded okay, walked back toward the car. I found a good–sized chunk of concrete block. Walked over to a ground–floor window and tossed it through.

Nothing.

Back in the car, I told Lloyd to drive slowly across the street, turn off the engine, and wait.

We gave it half an hour, Lloyd fidgeting behind the wheel, Virgil smoking. Watching.

Still nothing.

"I didn't hear a sound when I broke the glass. If there was a silent alarm, the rollers would have been on the scene long ago. Let's do it."

121

I REACHED MY gloved hands inside the window frame through the broken glass, found the latch. Shoved it open. Virgil followed me inside.

The third floor had several computer terminals scattered about. Virgil hooked army blankets over the windows. I used my pencil beam, turned it on one of the terminals. The screen flickered into life.

I took a deep breath. If the machine asked for a password, I was finished.

No.

I followed the prompts, remembering what Blossom had been shown. Found the index for Reported Cases by Year. Figured my target for somewhere between fifteen and thirty years old just to play it safe. Typed 1960—and pressed the Return key.

The screen said Select Sub–Index. I scrolled the cursor down. Stopped at Indicated. Hit the Return again.

A new menu: Outcomes.

I selected: Petition Filed.

New menu. Selected: Adjudicated.

I entered, scanned the new list of choices. Found the one I wanted: Family Reunified—Closed.

I typed quickly through the next series of screens. Used the Sort key. Race = White. Sex = Male. Family Composition = One Child.

Entered. Screen Message: Data