He started to grin when his mother swooped down from behind. "Billy! Didn't I tell you not to answer the door?" She hauled him back one-handed. The other arm was full of a wiggling girl with teary eyes. Mrs. O'Dell sent Mel one impatient look. "What are you doing back around here? I told you everything I could already."

"You were a big help, Mrs. O'Dell. It's my fault, really. I'm just trying to put everything in order," Mel continued, slipping into the cluttered living room as she spoke. "I hate to bother you again, especially since you were so helpful before."

Mel almost choked on that. Mrs. O'Dell had been suspicious, unfriendly and curt. Just, Mel thought as she warmed up her apologetic smile, as the lady was going to be now.

"I looked at your picture." Mrs. O'Dell jiggled her daughter on her hip. "I told you everything I know. Just like I told the police."

"I know. And I'm sure it's inconvenient to have your busy day constantly interrupted." Mel stepped over a platoon of G.I. Joes that had been overrun by a miniature fire truck. "But you see, your living room windows look right down on where the perpetrator was allegedly parked."

Mrs. O'Dell set her daughter down, and the little girl toddled toward the TV and sat down hard on her diapered bottom. "So?"

"Well, I couldn't help but notice how clean your windows are. The cleanest ones in the entire building. You know, if you look up here from down on the street, they shine like diamonds."

The flattery smoothed away Mrs. O'Dell's frown. "I take pride in my home. I don't mind clutter—with two kids you're going to have plenty of that. But I don't tolerate dirt."

"Yes, ma'am. It seems to me that to have windows looking like that you'd have to keep after them."

"You're telling me. Living this close to the water, you get that salt scum." With a mother's radar, she shot a look over her shoulder. "Billy, don't let the baby put those dirty soldiers in her mouth. Give her your truck."

"But, Mom…"

"Just for a little while." Satisfied that she would be obeyed, Mrs. O'Dell glanced back. "Where was I?"

"Salt scum," Mel prompted.

"Sure. And the dust and dirt that comes from having cars going up and down the road. Fingerprints." She nearly smiled. "Seems I'm always chasing somebody's fingerprints."

Yeah, Mel thought. Me too.

"I know it must take a lot of work to keep your place up like this, raising two kids."

"Not everyone thinks so. Some people figure if you don't carry a briefcase and commute to some office every day you're not working."

"I've always thought holding together a home and family is the most important career there is."

Mrs. O'Dell took the dust rag that was hanging out of the back pocket of her shorts and rubbed at the surface of a table. "Well."

"And the windows," Mel said, gently leading her back. "I was wondering how often you have to wash them."

"Every month, like clockwork."

"You'd have a real good view of the neighborhood."

"I don't have time to spy on my neighbors."

"No, ma'am. But you might notice things, casually."

"Well, I'm not blind. I saw that man hanging around. I told you that."

"Yes, you did. I was thinking, if you happened to be washing the windows, you might have noticed him down there. I imagine it would take you about an hour to do the job…"

"Forty-five minutes."

"Uh-huh. Well, if he was down there that long, sitting in his car, it would have struck you as unusual, wouldn't it?"

"He got out and walked around."

"Oh?" Mel wondered if she dared take out her notepad. Better to talk now and write it all down later, she decided.

"Both days," Mrs. O'Dell added.

"Both days?"

"The day I did the windows, and the day I washed the curtains. I really didn't think anything of it. I don't poke around into other people's business."

"No, I'm sure you don't." But I do, Mel thought, her heart hammering. I do. And I just need a little more. "Do you remember which days you noticed him?"

"Did the windows the first of the month, like always. A couple days later, I noticed the curtains were looking a little dingy, so I took them down and washed them. Saw him across the street then, walking down the sidewalk."

"David Merrick was taken on the fourth of May."

Mrs. O'Dell frowned again, then glanced at her children. When she was satisfied they were squabbling and not paying any attention, she nodded. "I know. And, like I told you before, it just breaks my heart. A little baby like that, stolen practically out of his mother's arms. I haven't let Billy go out alone all summer."

Mel laid a hand on her arm to make a connection, woman to woman. "You don't have to know Rose Merrick to understand what she's going through. You're a mother."

It got through to her. Mel could see it in the way moisture sprang to Mrs. O'Dell's eyes. "I wish I could help. I just didn't see anything more than that. All I remember is thinking that this neighborhood should be safe. That you shouldn't have to be afraid to let your children walk across the street to play with a friend. You shouldn't have to worry every day that someone's going to come back and pick out your child and drive away with him."

"No, you shouldn't. Rose and Stan Merrick shouldn't be wondering if they'll ever see their son again. Someone drove away with David, Mrs. O'Dell. Someone who was parked right under your window. Maybe you weren't paying attention at the time, but if you'd clear your mind for a minute and think back… You might have noticed his car, some little thing about his car."

"That beat-up old thing? I didn't pay any mind to it."

"It was black? Red?"

Mrs. O'Dell shrugged. "Dirty is what it was. Might have been brown. Might have been green, under all that grime."

Mel took a leap of faith. "Out-of-state plates, I imagine."

After a moment's consideration, Mrs. O'Dell shook her head. "Nope. I guess I might have wondered why he was just sitting down there. Sometimes your mind wanders when you're working, and I was thinking he might have been visiting someone, waiting for them to get home. Then I was figuring he hadn't come all that far 'cause he had state plates."