"We're supposed to hang tight because you guess the doctor didn't have time to read the files and call the police?" Cameron asked.

"Will you shut up?" Dallas snapped. "As soon as Monk got to Bowen, he drove over to the St. Claire hospital. Sure enough,

Dr. Renard had been in surgery. Monk told one of the aides that he wanted to talk to the doctor about a financial opportunity

and asked her if he should wait. The aide told him that Renard had two back-to-back surgeries and wouldn't be done for several more hours."

"What else?" John asked. He was sitting behind his desk, drumming his fingers on the blotter. Dallas resisted the urge to stop him.

"The slip showed she signed for the delivery at exactly five-fifteen," Dallas said, checking a notepad. "I checked with the ambulance service, and the time of arrival at the hospital was five-twenty. So…"

"She couldn't have had time to do anything about the package," Preston said.

Dallas continued. "While Renard was in surgery, Monk put a tap on the phone line to her house. When he got back to the

hospital, there had been a shift change in the ER. He took advantage of the opportunity to slip into the doctors' lounge and

search Renard's locker. He even had an aide helping him. He told her a package had accidentally been sent to the wrong person."

"And she bought it?"

"Monk can be charming when he wants to," Dallas said. "And she was young. They didn't find anything, but she gave him all

kinds of information about Dr. Renard."

"Maybe Renard took the package to surgery," John suggested.

"I doubt that," Dallas said. "The aide said she went up with a patient."

"Then what did Monk do?"

"He waited. It was late when Renard left the hospital, and he followed her. She made one stop on the way home. She went by

a clinic, and she had some papers in her hands when she went inside. Monk would have searched her car then, but she'd left

the motor running, which indicated she wasn't going to be there long."

"Did she have the papers when she came back out?"

"None that he could see," Dallas answered. "But she was carrying a backpack. Anyway, he followed her home, waited until

he was sure she was asleep, then broke in and searched the house. He found the backpack in the laundry room and went

through it first."

"It wasn't there." John made the statement.

Dallas nodded.

Cameron began to pace. "She had to have taken it to her clinic. Maybe she was thinking she'd deal with it today."

"Monk went back and checked the clinic. It wasn't there either. He assured me he searched everything. Only problem was,

he broke a lock on her desk and decided he had to trash the place so it would look like kids had been there."

"Where the hell is the package?" John was furious now and wasn't trying to hide it. "I can't believe the bitch sent it to her

cousin. She hated her relatives."

"I don't know where it is," Dallas said. "But it occurred to me…"

"What?" Preston urged.

"She can't possibly know what she has."

St. Claire, Louisiana, was easy for Theo to find. Bowen was impossible. There weren't any signs pointing the way, and as Jake had indicated, the little town wasn't on a map. Loath to admit that he was lost and needed directions-a genetic flaw passed

down to the males in the family, according to his sisters, Jordan and Sydney-Theo drove around in circles until he was almost

out of gas and had to stop. When he went inside the filling station to pay, he broke down and asked the attendant if he happened

to know where Bowen was located.

The freckle-faced, slightly cross-eyed teenager nodded enthusiastically. "I sure do know where Bowen is. Are you new in town?" Before Theo could answer, the boy asked another question. "Are you looking for the new high school? It's over on Clement Street. Hey, I bet you are." He paused to give Theo the once-over, then squinted up at him and nodded. "I know why you're here."

"You do?"

"Sure I do. You're interviewing for the coaching job, aren't you? Yeah, that's it, isn't it? You're answering the ad, aren't you?

We heard someone was maybe interested, and it's you, right? It wasn't a rumor after all. We really need help 'cause

Mr. Freeland-he's the music teacher, but I guess you already know that— doesn't know squat about football. So are you

going to take the job?"

"No, I'm not."

"Why not? You haven't even seen the place yet. I don't think it's right to make up your mind before you even see the place."

Theo's patience was wearing thin. "I'm not a football coach."

The teenager wasn't buying it. "You look like you ought to be a coach. You got the shoulders, like maybe you used to play some football when you were young."

When he was young? Just how old did the kid think he was? "Look, all I want is directions-"

The teenager cut him off. "Oh, I get it," he said, nodding enthusiastically.

"Get what?" Theo asked in spite of his better judgment.

"It's a secret, isn't it? I mean, until the position is filled, it's like a secret. You know, when the principal announces his choice at

the big rally in a couple of weeks. By the way, Coach, my name's Jerome Kelly, but everyone calls me Kevin on account of

that's my middle name." He reached across the counter to shake Theo's hand. "It sure is nice to meet you."

Theo clenched his jaw. "I'm just trying to find Bowen. Are you going to tell me where it is or not?"

Kevin put his hands up in a conciliatory gesture. "Okay. You don't need to get mad at me. But it is a secret, right?"

Theo decided to agree just to get the boy off the subject. "Yeah, right. It's a secret. Now, where's Bowen?"

Kevin was grinning from ear to ear. "You see that?" he asked, pointing to the street in front of the station.

"What?"

"That street."

"Sure I see it."

Kevin nodded again. "That's Elm Street, but there aren't any elms on it. I'm a kicker."

"You're a what?"

"A kicker. Mr. Freeland says that ought to be my position on the team. I can kick a football forty yards without breaking a sweat."

"Is that right?"

"I could be your punt returner too. I'm that fast."

"Listen, Kevin, I'm not the new football coach."

"Yeah, I know, and I won't tell anybody until it's officially announced. You can count on me, Coach."

"Where's Bowen?" His voice now had a real bite in it.

"I was just getting to that," he said. "Now, if you drive on this side of Elm Street, the east side," he qualified as he pointed out the window again, "then you're in St. Claire. If you don't know which way is east and which way is west-I sometimes have trouble with that-you'll know you're in St. Claire if you see sidewalks. Bowen doesn't have any sidewalks."

Theo gritted his teeth. "And where exactly is Bowen?"

"I'm telling you," he promised. "Now, if you cross Elm Street, like if you were walking…?"

Theo really hated this kid. "Yeah?"

"There you are."

"Where?"

"In Bowen. Get it? One side of Elm Street is St. Claire, and the other side is Bowen. It's as simple as that. I sure hope

you'll give me a shot at kicker. I'd be a real asset to the team."

Theo counted out the bills for the gas and asked, "Have you ever heard of a bar called The Swan?"

"Sure," he said. "Everyone knows The Swan. It's a big old place tucked in the swamp, clear on the other side of Bowen. It's

got a big swan on top. You can't miss it once you find it." "So tell me how to find it." Kevin came through this time with directions. When he was finished describing the convoluted route, he said, "You know the people in St. Claire like to think of Bowen as their suburb, but that really pisses off the people of Bowen. Oh… sorry. I probably shouldn't say 'pisses off in front of faculty."