"He's safe," Sebastian said. "Safe and well cared for. A little confused, and he cries more than he did. But no one's hurt him."

She felt the breath clog up in her lungs. She wanted to believe that—that much, if nothing more.

"You're not going to talk to Rose about this," she said steadily. "It'll drive her crazy."

Ignoring her, Sebastian went on. "The man who took him was afraid. You could smell it. He took him to a woman somewhere… East." It would come. "And she dressed him in Oshkosh overalls and a red striped shirt. He was in a car seat and had a ring of plastic keys to play with. They drove most of the day, then stopped at a motel. It had a dinosaur out front. She fed him, bathed him, and when he cried she walked him until he fell asleep."

"Where?" she asked.

"Utah." He frowned a little. "Arizona, maybe, but probably Utah. The next day they drove, still southeast. She's not afraid. It's just business. They go to a mall—someplace in Texas. East Texas. It's crowded. She sits on a bench. A man sits beside her. He leaves an envelope on the bench and pushes David away in his stroller.

"The same routine the following day. David's tired of traveling and bewildered by all the strange faces. He wants home. He's taken to a house. A big stone house with old, leafy trees in the yard. South. It feels like Georgia. He's given to a woman who holds him and cries a little, and a man who holds them both. He has a room there, with blue sailboats on the wall and a mobile over the crib of circus animals. They call him Eric now."

Mel was very pale when she managed to speak. "I don't believe you."

"No, but there's a part of you that wonders if you should. Forget what you think of me, Mel. Think of David."

"I am thinking of David." She sprang to her feet, the sketch clutched in her hand. "Give me a name, then. Give me a damn name."

"Do you think it works like that?" he tossed back. "Demand and answer? It's an art, not a pop quiz."

She let the sketch float back to the desk. "Right."

"Listen to me." He slapped his hands down on the desk, hard enough to make her jolt in reaction. "I've been in Chicago for three weeks, watching some monster slice people to ribbons in my head. Feeling his glee while he did it. Using up everything I am, everything I have, to find him before he could do it again. If I'm not working fast enough to suit you on this, Sutherland, that's too damn bad."

She backed off. Not because she was afraid of this sudden burst of temper. Because she saw something in his face, some trace of his weary horror at what he'd been through.

"Okay." She took a deep breath. "Here are the facts. I don't believe in psychics or witches or things that go bump in the night."

He had to smile. "You'll have to meet my family sometime."

"But," she continued, as if he hadn't spoken, "I'll use anything, any resource. Hell, we can use a Ouija board if it'll help get David back." She picked up the sketch again. "I've got a face. I'll start with that."

"We'll start with that."

Before she could come up with a suitable response, the phone rang. "Sutherland Investigations. Yeah, it's Mel. What's going down, Rico?"

Sebastian watched her attention sharpen, saw a slight smile tug at her lips. Why, she is pretty, he realized with a kind of annoyed surprise.

"Hey, babe, you can trust me." She began to write on a pad in messy, hurried scribbles. "Yeah, I know where it is. Isn't that dandy?" She listened again, nodding to herself and muttering now and then. "Come on, come on, I know the drill. I never heard of you, never saw that pretty face of yours. I'll leave your fee at O'Riley's." She paused and laughed. "In your dreams, baby."

When she hung up, Sebastian could feel the excitement shooting off her in sparks. "Take a walk, Donovan. I've got to go to work."

"I'll go with you." It was said on impulse, and almost immediately regretted. He would have taken it back if her reaction had been less scathing. She laughed again.

"Listen, pal, this isn't amateur hour. I don't need the extra baggage."

"We're going to be working together—for a hopefully brief duration. I know what I can handle, Sutherland. I haven't got a clue about you. I'd like to see you in action."

"You want action?" She nodded slowly. "All right, hotshot. Wait here. I've got to change first."

Chapter 3

She'd changed, all right, Sebastian thought less than ten minutes later. The woman who walked in from the back room in a pumpkin-colored leather skirt the length of a place mat was a sharp left turn away from the one who'd walked out.

Those legs were, well, just short of miraculous.

She'd done something to her face, as well. Her eyes seemed huge and heavy. Slumberous, he supposed was the word. Her mouth was dark and slick. She'd fluffled and fiddled with her hair. Now, rather than looking careless, it was tousled in a way that suggested she'd just gotten out of bed—and would be more than willing to tumble back in.

Two glittery gold balls hung from her ears, nearly touching the shoulders of a snug black tank top. Snug enough, Sebastian thought, to make any man not currently in a coma realize there was nothing beneath it but woman.

SEX! The word steamed into his mind in big, bold letters. This was wild, uninhibited and casually available sex.

He was certain he was about to make some snide comment, or perhaps say something rudely suggestive. But that wasn't what came out of his mouth.

"Where in the name of Finn do you think you're going dressed like that?"

Mel cocked one penciled eyebrow. "In the name of who?"

He made a dismissive gesture and tried to keep his eyes off her legs. Whatever fragrance she'd dumped all over herself made his tongue want to hang out. "You look like a—"

"Yeah." Pleased, she grinned and turned in a saucy circle. "It's my floozy look. Works like a charm. Most guys don't care if you're pretty or not if you show enough skin and cover the rest with something tight."

He shook his head. He didn't want to try to decipher that. "Why are you dressed like that?"

"Tools of the trade, Donovan." She shifted the oversize purse on her shoulder. Inside it, she carried another tool of the trade. ''If you're going with me, let's hit it. I'll fill you in on the way.''