The rest of my day was long, hard, and depressing. More than anything, I needed a break from the Mastermind.

I'm not exactly sure when or where or how I had gotten up the nerve, but I had a date that night. It was with a lawyer for the D.A.'s office here in Washington. Elizabeth Moore was wickedly funny and nicely irreverent. She was a large woman with a really sweet smile that made mesmile. We were having dinner at Marcel's in Foggy Bottom, which is a good spot for this kind of thing. The food is French, with a Flemish flair. The night couldn't have been going any better. I thought so, and I was pretty sure that Elizabeth would agree.

After the waiter left with our orders for dessert and coffee, Elizabeth put her hand lightly on top of mine. Our table was lit by a simple votive candle in a crystal holder.

"All right, Alex. We've gone through all the preliminaries. I enjoyedthe preliminaries," she said. "Now what's the catch? There has to be a catch. Has to be. All the good ones aretaken. I know that from experience. So why are you still playing the dating game?"

I understood exactly what Elizabeth meant, but I pretended to look slightly puzzled.

"Catch?" I shrugged, then I finally started to smile.

She laughed out loud. "You're what — thirty-nine, forty?"

"Forty-two, but thanks," I said.

"You passed every test I could possibly throw at you…"

"Such as?"

"Such as picking a great spot for dinner. Romantic, but not too romantic. Such as being right on time when you arrived to pick me up. Such as listeningto some of the things that actually interest me. Such as being very handsome — not that it matters to me. Yeah, right."

"I also like children, wouldn't mind having more," I added. "I've read all of Toni Morrison's novels. I'm a decent plumber. I can cook if I have to."

"The catch?" she asked again. "Let's leave it."

Our waiter returned with the coffee and desserts, and right as he was pouring a steaming cup for Elizabeth, the beeper on my belt went off.

Oh, Jesus.

Busted!

I looked across the table at her — and I blinked. I was definitely the first one to blink.

"You mind if I take this? It's important. I recognize the number — the FBI in Quantico. I won't be long. I'll be right back."

I went to the rest-room area and used my cell phone. I called Kyle Craig in Virginia. Kyle had been a solid friend for many years, but ever since I had become liaison between the Bureau and the D.C. police, I'd seen way too much of him. He kept dragging me into the nastiest murder cases on the FBI's docket. I hated to take his calls anymore. Now what had happened?

Kyle knew who was calling. He didn't even bother to say hello. "Alex, do you remember a case you and I worked about fourteen months ago? A runaway girl was found hung from a lighting fixture in her hotel room. Patricia Cameron? There have been two murders in San Francisco that match up. Happened last night in Golden Gate Park. This is a very bad scene — the worst I've heard about in a while."

"Kyle, I'm having dinner with an attractive, very nice, interesting woman. I'll talk to you tomorrow. I'll call you. I'm off duty tonight."

Kyle laughed. I amused him sometimes. "Nana already told me. Your date's a lawyer, right? Listen to this one. The devil meets with this lawyer. Says he can make the lawyer a senior partner, but the lawyer has to give him his soul andthe soul of everybody in his family. The lawyer stares at the devil and asks, 'So what's the catch?'" After he told his joke, Kyle went on to tell me more than I wanted to hear about the similarities connecting the awful murders in San Francisco to the one in D.C. I remembered the victim, Patricia Cameron. I could still see her face. I shook off the image.

When he was finished, and Kyle tends to be thorough if a bit long-winded, I went back to join Elizabeth at our table.

She smiled ruefully and shook her head. "I think I just figured out the catch," she said.

I did my best to laugh, but my insides were already tied up in knots. "Honestly, it's not as bad as it looks."

It's much worse, Elizabeth.

In the morning, I dropped the kids at school on my way to the airport. Jannie is eight; Damon just turned ten. They're really good kids, but they're kids. You give them a tiny advantage, they take a lot, and then they take a little more. Someone, I don't remember who, said that "American children suffer too much mother and too little father." With my kids, it's been the exact opposite.

"I could get used to this," Jannie said, as we pulled up in front of the Sojourner Truth School. Helen Folasade Adu — Sade — was singing softly on the CD. Very nice.

"Don't get used to it. It's a five-block walk from our house to school. When I was a little boy in North Carolina, I used to walk five miles through tobacco fields to school."

Yeah, right," Damon scoffed. "You forgot that you used to walk barefoot. Left that part out."

"I did. Thanks for reminding me. I used to walk barefoot through those nasty tobacco fields to school."

The kids laughed and so did I. They're usually good to be around, and I'm always videotaping them. I do it in the hopes that I'll have nice movies to watch when the two of them go bad in their teenage years. Also, I'm afraid I might get CRS someday — the can't remembershit disease. It's going around.

"I have a big concert on Saturday," Damon reminded me. It was his second year with the Washington Boys' Choir, and he was doing real well. He was going to be the next Luther Vandross, or maybe Al Green, or maybe he was just going to be Damon Cross.

"I'll be home by Saturday, Damon. Trust me, I wouldn't miss your concert."

"You missed quite a few already," he said. It was a sharp little dig.

"That was the old me. This is the new and improved Alex. I've also attendedseveral of your concerts."

"You're so funny, Daddy," Jannie said, and laughed. Both kids are smart, and smart-ass as well.

"I will be home for Damon's concert," I promised. "Help your grandma around the house. She's almost a hundred years old, you know."

Jannie rolled her eyes. "Nana's eighty years young, or so she says. She loves to cook, do the dishes, and clean up after us," she said, imitating Nana's wicked cackle. "She truly does."

"Saturday. I can't wait," I said to Damon. It was the whole truth and nothing but. The Boys' Choir was one of Washington's secret treasures. I was ecstatic that Damon was good enough to sing with the group, but most of all that he loved what he was doing.

"Kisses," I said. "Hugs too."

Damon and Jannie groaned, but they leaned in close, and I wondered how much longer they would be willing to give me hugs and pecks on the cheek. So I took an extra few while I could get them. When the good times come with your kids, you've got to make them last.

"I love you," I said before I let them go off to school. "What do you say?"

"We love you too," Damon and Jannie chorused.

"That's why we let you embarrass us to death in front of our school and all our friends," Jannie said, and she stuck out her tongue.

"This is your last ride to school," I told her. Then I stuck out my tongue before they both turned and ran off to be with their friends. They were growing up way too fast for me.