I dropped back to the drive, then went to my car. I watched the house and tried to look unthreatening so that nervous neighbors wouldn't call the cops. A black guy in a gray LeBaron cruised past. I smiled and nodded, but he looked away. Maybe I wasn't unthreatening enough.

Two hours and ten minutes later I started the car and left to pick up Lucy Chenier. I wasn't sure that I was doing the right thing by leaving them alone, but I wasn't sure it would be best to have them scooped up by a herd of social workers and put into a foster home either. Of course, they might be safer in such a home, but they didn't look particularly endangered where they were. Maybe I should stop advertising in the Yellow Pages.

The KROK studio and corporate offices are on Olympic Boulevard, just west of Doheny Drive along the southern edge of Beverly Hills. It's a large, modern building of steel and glass in an area of chain grocery stores and expensive high-rise apartments and upscale health clubs. Twentieth Century-Fox isn't far away, and neither is Century City.

Olympic was jammed with rush-hour traffic, and the valet parking attendants at the health club across the street from KROK were running double time to keep up with the incoming flux of agents and lawyers and studio execs anxious to pump iron and shoot hoops after a hard day telling the truth. Four guys in Versace suits were standing together outside the health club, staring toward KROK, only they weren't staring at the building; they were staring at Lucy Chenier. Lucille Chenier is five inches over five feet, with light auburn hair and green eyes and the rich, healthy tan of someone who spends a lot of time outdoors. She had attended Louisiana State University on a tennis scholarship, and she still played regularly and was serious about it. You could see it in the way she carried herself, and in the way her muscles worked beneath her skin. I pulled to the curb and felt myself smile as she climbed into my car. 'Did you take the job?'

'Not yet, but they made a very interesting offer.' Her green eyes were amazing. Absolutely without bottom.

'How interesting?'

She smiled wider.

'That's pretty interesting.'

She leaned across the shifter and kissed me, and I kissed her back. 'Did you make a reservation at Border Grill?'

'I did.'

'Fantastic!' She settled back in the seat. 'We can eat, then I'll pack, and then we'll have the rest of the evening to sip champagne and do whatever.'

I smiled at her, and felt an enormous warmth grow between us. 'Whatever.'

Lucy told me the particulars of her interview as we drove toward Santa Monica, and then I told her about Teresa Haines. I told her about Charles and Winona, and how I had followed them back to their home, and as I told it, a vertical line grew between Lucy's eyebrows in a kind of frown. She said, 'They've been alone for eleven days?'

'Yep.'

'With no adult supervision?'

'That's right.' The line grew deeper.

'And you looked through the windows?'

'Everything seemed fine.'

Lucy was squirming so hard that I thought she was going to pop out of the seat. She shook her head and held up her hands and said, 'Seeming fine isn't enough. We'd better turn around.'

I said, 'Huh?'

'Turn around. We're going into that house and make sure.'

I turned. Maternal hormones are awesome to behold.

Twenty minutes later, we left Melrose and once more cruised their house. Everything appeared in order and unchanged, and the Saturn was still in the drive. At least they weren't out joyriding. 'They're fine.' The professional detective makes his pronouncement.

'Stop.'

We parked in the drive behind the Saturn, went to the front door, and rang the bell. Charles threw open the door without checking, and when he saw us his eyes bulged and he tried to slam the door. 'Run! They've come to take us away!'

I pushed open the door and stepped inside, Lucy behind me. He was a game kid, grunting and huffing against the door as he slid across the floor. I said, 'Relax, Charles. No one is going to take you away.'

Teresa Haines said, 'Stop it, Charles.' She said it once, sharply, and he stopped.

Teresa and Winona were in the living room. The TV was off, so they probably hadn't been watching it. Winona was standing behind Teresa, and Teresa looked calm and in absolute control of her environment. She wasn't looking at me – she was looking at Lucy. I said, 'I wanted to make sure you guys were okay.'

Charles said, 'I tol' ya we shouldn't'a said anything! They're gonna put us in a home!'

Teresa crossed the living room, and extended her hand to Lucy. 'My name is Teresa Haines. Who are you?'

Lucy took her hand. 'Lucille Chenier. I'm a friend of Mr. Cole's.'

The house smelled faintly of tomato sauce and garlic. Teri said, 'Are you with Children's Services?'

Lucy smiled, friendly and relaxed. 'Not at all. I don't live in Los Angeles. I'm just visiting.' Lucy released Teresa's hand, but kept the smile as she walked to the kitchen. 'Mr. Cole tells me that you've been without your father for over a week?'

'I'm sure he'll be back soon.'

'I'm sure he will. Do you mind if I look around?' Her smile was warm and reassuring.

Charles said, 'What about a search warrant? You gotta have a search warrant if ya wanna look around!' He was scowling at us from the door, his hand still on the knob as if he might suddenly throw open the door and run for it if we made the wrong move.

Teri said, 'If it will make you feel better.' Ignoring Charles.

Lucy disappeared into the rear. Teresa looked back at me and cocked her head. I shrugged. 'She's a mother.'

'Did you have second thoughts about helping us?'

'I wanted to make sure that you're okay.'

'So you followed us.'

'Sure.' Grilled by a kid. 'I wanted to see your living conditions. Also, Charles stole a figurine from my office.'

Charles yelled, 'I didn't do anything!' He made a big deal out of waving his arms and pulling at his hair. 'Why does everyone blame me?' Drama.

Teri said, 'Charles.' Her eyes narrowed and it sounded like a warning.

I held out my hand. 'Give it over, kid.'

Charles dug the Jiminy out of his pocket and threw it on the floor. 'Frig!'

Teri glared lasers at him. 'Charles.'

Charles scooped up the Jiminy, then skulked over with it, ready to run in case I tried to hit him.

He put it in my hand, then scuttled away. I looked at the Jiminy, then tossed it back to him. 'Keep it.'

Charles looked surprised.

Teresa said, 'You don't have to do that.'

'I know.'

She said, I'm sorry about this.'

I shook my head. It happens.

Teresa Haines took a breath, then said, 'So you've seen that we're fine.'

'Looks like you've got things under control.'

'So you won't have to call the police.'

I looked into the calm eyes, only they weren't so calm anymore. A tiny flame of fear was burning behind the oval glasses. 'You were aware of that possibility when you came to see me, yet you came anyway. You must be very concerned for your father.'

The flame grew brighter and her face worked, and then the flame was gone and the eyes were calm again. She had fought to control herself, and she had won. Some kid. She said, 'Of course I'm concerned. He's my father.'

Lucy came back and headed into the kitchen. 'Your room is very neat, Teresa. Do you share it with Winona?'

'Yes, ma'am.'

The smile. 'Charles's room is a mess.'

Teresa said, 'I know. You can't get him to make his bed.'

Lucy laughed. 'I know what that's like. I have an eight-year-old son who's the same way.'

Charles made the coughing sound, and this time you could make out the word 'Bitch.'

I said, 'Hey.'

Charles skulked into the dining room as far from me as he could get, put the Jiminy on the table, and pretended to play with it.