'Okay.' Tess frowned. 'In a sick way, that makes sense. But surely there are other reasons to use these places.' She suddenly remembered what the frizzy-haired woman had told her. To stay away from process servers?'

'You figured that out? You bet,' Trask said. 'A guy who's afraid of being served with a summons to testify in court, or who's running from a lawsuit, or who hasn't been paying his child support and doesn't want his wife to know where he lives.'

Tess considered and shook her head. 'I still don't… Wouldn't a process server merely wait around until his target came in to get his mail?'

'Process servers get paid for results,' Trask said. 'They know a mail drop's trouble. I mean, they could wait around for days, maybe weeks , and still not… If someone's really nervous about being found, all he has to do is pay to have the service forward his mail to another address. Mind you, there are legitimate reasons to use a mail service instead of a post-office box.'

Tess waved her hands for Trask to continue.

'Why is this so important to you?' Trask asked.

'Please!'

'Okay, so maybe your job takes you out of the country a lot, and you don't want to depend on the post office to forward your mail. Or maybe you live in another state, but for legal reasons, you need a corporate address in New York City. Or maybe you own a legitimate mail-order business, but you're well aware of the resistance that potential customers have to temporary-looking post-office-box numbers. There are many legitimate reasons. But basically, in my experience, seven times out of ten someone uses a mail service because…"

'They don't want anyone to know where they live.'

'You got it,' Trask said.

Tess stared at her gold Cross pen. 'Thanks.'

'Whatever your problem is… Listen, kid, I don't want to pry, but I hate to see you looking so dejected. Since I've answered your question, return the favor and answer mine. I might be able to help. Why is this important to you?'

Tess slumped, shaking her head. 'I… It's just that… Well, I found out a friend of mine… at least, sort of a friend… uses one of these services.'

'A friend?' Trask assessed the word. 'Are you saying this friend's a man?'

Tess nodded glumly.

'Oh.' Trask's voice dropped.

'I was supposed to meet him on Saturday, but he didn't show up, and he didn't report for work this week.'

'Oh.' Trask's voice dropped lower.

'And now I'm trying to find out why.'

'Be careful, Tess.'

'I can't help it. My pride's involved. I need to know what happened to him.'

'Well, maybe…' Trask sighed.

'What?'

'This is just a guess. But it could be you don't want to hear.'

'Tell me.'

'Maybe, if he didn't want someone to find him, whoever he didn't want to find him – an ex-wife who hasn't been getting her alimony, for instance – might have gotten too close. It's possible your friend was forced to move on.'

Tess shoved her pen in her purse. 'I'm sorry I interrupted you. Thanks, Walter. I've taken too much of your time. I'll let you get back to work.' She stood.

'No, Tess, please, wait. I told you I might be able to help. Perhaps you didn't know, but before I founded Earth Mother Magazine, when I worked for the Times, I was their expert in tracking down reluctant sources.'

'Then how do I find him?'

'Top line first. Given the implications of the mail service your friend used, are you absolutely sure you want to find him? Think it over.'

'Yes, I'm sure.'

'Should I take it that means you're in love with him?'

Tess hesitated. 'Yes. No. Maybe.' She swallowed, despite a constriction in her throat. 'I'm so confused. God help me, what I do know is I'm worried about him and I want to be with him.'

'A clear enough answer. Okay, my friend, I could write down a list of people and places for you to check. But you'd find it exhausting and time- consuming, not to mention a pain in the ass, to go through them all. Besides, you're a good enough reporter that you've probably already thought of them. So I'll save you the hassle and cut to the bottom line. I'm going to let you in on a secret. Because you confided in me, I'll confide in you. But just as I'll keep your confession in confidence, I take for granted you'll keep mine. Word of honor?'

'Yes.'

'I know I can count on you. This is the reason I was so legendary at the Times for being able to track down reluctant sources.' Trask wrote two words on a piece of paper.

tess frowned at them. '"Lieutenant Craig"?'

'He works for Missing Persons. Central division. One Police Plaza. Just mention my name. If he doesn't cooperate, tell him I said to remind him of nineteen eighty-six.'

'Nineteen eighty-?'

'Six. I doubt you'll have to remind him, though. He owes me a favor he's well aware he can't ever completely repay, and unless he's had a lobotomy, he'll stop whatever he's doing and give your problem his full attention. But if he doesn't, let me know. Because in that case, I'll send him a copy of a letter – along with some audio tapes – that'll give his memory one hell of a jolt, I guarantee.'

Lieutenant Craig was a tall beefy man, late thirties, with tousled hair, a ruggedly handsome face, and sharply creased cheeks that gave his mouth a pinched expression.

When he heard Trask's name, his dour look intensified. 'Swell. Just swell. The finishing touch on a crummy day.' Craig wore a rumpled suit that matched his haggard features. That leech is a… Never mind. You don't want to know my opinion of him. My language would ruin your day. So what's that bloodsucker got in mind this time?' Squinting toward Tess, Craig gestured toward a stout wooden chair in front of his cluttered desk.

Tess sat, trying to ignore the phones that rang constantly at desks behind her, detectives answering the calls while pecking at typewriters and computer keyboards. 'Well, actually' – she tasted bile, ill at ease – 'Walter, I mean Mr Trask, doesn't want anything.'

Craig closed one eye and squinted more severely with the other. Then why did he tell you to mention his name?'

'I guess because' – Tess clutched the arms of the chair, needing to steady her hands – 'he figured you'd give me extra help.'

Craig laughed, a crusty outburst that sounded like a cough. 'Hey, I'm here to serve the public. No kidding. I'm really a devoted civil servant. Rich or poor, young or old, male or female, white, black, Chicano, Christian, Jewish, or Muslim – did I touch all the bases? – regardless of race or creed, etc., everyone who shows up in this office gets my full and complete attention. Unless of course they're relatives of politicians, and then I really snap to attention.' The lieutenant laughed again and abruptly did cough. 'Damned allergies. So, fine, you need my help and Walter sent you here. So what can I do for you?'

Tess glanced toward the ceiling.

'Look, whatever it is, don't let it embarrass you. I've heard it all before and then some, believe me.'

'It's not that I'm embarrassed exactly,' Tess said.

'Then…?'

'It's just that… Now that I'm here, I'm not sure… I mean…'

'Hey, it's almost six. I'm supposed to be off-duty. Why did you want to see me?'

'It seemed awfully serious a couple of hours ago, but involving the police…'

'Sure, I understand. There's serious, and then there's serious,' Craig said. The thing is – count on me – it's my job to tell the difference. So as long as you are here, you might as well explain why you're clutching the arms of your chair so tight. Hey, lady, take advantage of the taxes you pay. Unburden your soul. What's the worst that can happen?'