"You're a regular fairy godmother, I imagine. Box up a half dozen soy dogs, three scoops of fries, a couple of fruit kabobs, a bag of pretzel twists, two jumbo tubes of – What's your drink, Kevin?"

"Orange Fizzy Supreme," Kevin managed, dumbfounded by the upcoming feast.

"Two, then, and a handful of the chocolate sticks."

"Yes, sir, right away." The operator went to work with a vengeance as Kevin stared up at Roarke, eyes wide, mouth agape.

"Want anything else?" Roarke asked as he reached in his pocket for loose credits.

Kevin only shook his head. He'd never seen that much food in one box before. Dopey, inspired by the scents, let out a wild meow.

"Here." Roarke pulled one of the soy dogs out, handed it to Kevin. "Why don't you take this. Go back to the lieutenant's car – and wait for me."

"Okay."

Kevin turned, took three steps, then, turning back, did something just childish enough to warm Roarke's heart. He stuck out his tongue at the vendor then dashed off.

Roarke hefted the box of food, ignoring the operator's oily chatter. He tossed credits onto the pay board, then stared through the smoke. "I'm in the mood to hurt someone – too much in the mood, which is why you're still standing. But if you ever lay hands on that boy, I'll hear about it. And it won't be a cat's liver that ends up on the grill. Understood?"

"Yes, sir. Absolutely. Yes." Her fingers were already snagging up credits, but her eyes stayed warily on Roarke's. "Didn't know the kid had a dad. Thought he was just another street brat. They're worse than rats around here. Scavenging, making life messy for decent folk."

"Let's put it this way." Roarke clamped a hand over the woman's wrist. It took all his control not to give in to the urge to snap it like a dry twig. "It should take me about thirty seconds to walk back to where the boy's waiting. When I get there, I'm going to turn around. I don't want to see you here."

"This is my corner."

"I'd advise you to find another." Roarke released her and hefted the box. He'd taken no more than two strides when he heard the metallic clang of the cart being moved. It was a small satisfaction. A bigger one was seeing Kevin sitting on the hood of Eve's unit, the cat beside him, and each of them devouring half a soy dog.

Roarke joined them, set the box between him and the boy. "Dig in."

Kevin's hand darted toward the box then jerked back as though he was wary of a trick. "I can have anything?"

"Whatever you can stomach." Roarke nipped out a fry for himself and noted that the cart was gone. "Is she always so unpleasant?"

"Uh-huh. The big kids call her Snitch Bitch 'cause she's always calling the beat droid on them. She keeps a zapper in her cart, too. She was scared of you, though, and you didn't even try to steal anything."

Roarke took another fry, only lifting a brow as he watched Kevin mow through the chocolate. Life, he thought, was much too uncertain for some to risk saving the best for last.

"Tell me about the man who asked you to wait for Lieutenant Dallas."

"He was just a guy." Kevin dug out another soy dog, splitting it in two. Boy and cat ate with the same ferocious concentration and lack of finesse. Then Kevin froze as two black-and-whites turned the corner, sirens screaming. Behind them was an NYPSD crime scene van.

"They won't hassle you," Roarke said quietly.

"Are you a cop, too?"

Roarke's huge, gut-level laugh had Kevin grinning uncertainly. He would have liked to have slipped his hand into Roarke's again as the cops streamed by, but he was afraid to be thought of as a pussy. He contented himself by scooting just a little closer, and thought fleetingly that the man smelled good, almost as good as the food.

"I needed that." Sighing hugely, Roarke ruffled the boy's hair. "A good laugh after a miserable morning. What I am, Kevin, is a grown-up street brat. Here, drink some of this to wash that down before you choke."

" 'Kay." Taking the tube, Kevin sucked up sparkling orange. "The guy, he talked like you."

"How?"

"You know, like singing. The way the words go up and down." He mashed a handful of fries into his mouth.

"You can take the boy out of Ireland," Roarke murmured. "What did he look like?''

"Dunno. Kinda tall maybe."

"Young, old?"

Kevin's answer was a grunt and a shrug followed by a happy belch. "He musta been hot."

"Why is that?"

"He had a big long coat on, and a hat, and a scarf thing and gloves. He smelled really sweaty." Kevin held his nose, rolled his eyes, then, giggling, dug for more food.

"Close your eyes," Roarke ordered and nearly smiled at the speed with which Kevin complied. "What kind of shoes am I wearing? No peeking."

"Black ones. They're shiny and they don't hardly make any noise when you walk."

"Good. What kind was he wearing?"

"Black ones, too, with the red swipe. Hightops, like the big kids want all the time. They were beat up some. They're better when they're beat up some."

"Okay. What color are my eyes?"

"They're really, really blue. Like in a picture."

"What color were his?"

"I… green, I think. Sorta green, but not like Dopey's. Maybe they were green, but they were mean. Not mean like yours were when you talked to Snitch Bitch. His were more scared mean. That's worse, 'cause they hit you more when they're scared mean."

"So they do," Roarke murmured and draped an arm around Kevin's shoulders. "That was well done. Lieutenant Dallas would say you'd make a good cop."

Kevin belched again, shook his head. "Shit work."

"Often," Roarke agreed. "Who blackened your eye, Kevin?"

He felt the boy pull back, just an inch. "Walked into something."

"I often had that problem when I was your age. Will your mother be looking for you?"

"Nah. She works late, so she sleeps mostly. She gets pissed if I'm around when she's sleeping."

Gently, Roarke took the boy's chin in his hand until their eyes met. He hadn't saved Jennie, he thought, and would have to live with that. But there were lost children everywhere.

"Do you want to stay here, stay with her?"

To Kevin, the man's face looked like an angel's. He'd seen one on screen once when he'd snuck into a vid-den. "I got no place else."

"That's not what I'm asking you," Roarke said quietly. "Do you want to stay here with her, or do you want to go with the CPS?"

Kevin swallowed hard. "The CPS, they put you in a box, then they sell you."

"No, they don't." But it would seem like that, Roarke knew. As a child he had chosen his father's fists over the system. "Would you like to go somewhere else entirely?"

"Can I go with you? I can work for you."

"One day maybe." Roarke ran a hand over the boy's hair. "I know some people you might like. If it's what you want I can see about having you stay with them. You can take some time to make up your minds about each other."

"Dopey has to go, too." Kevin would give up his mother with her unhappy eyes and quick slaps, but he wouldn't give up the cat.

"Of course."

Kevin bit his lip, turned his head to look up at the building. "I don't have to go back in there?"

"No." Not as long as money bought freedom and choices. "You don't."

When Eve came out onto the street she was surprised, and a little annoyed, to see Roarke and the boy were still there. They were a few yards up the street, talking with a woman. From the navy blue suit, side arm zapper, and sour expression, Eve pegged her as the social worker for this section of the city.

Why the hell isn't she moving the boy along? Eve wondered. She'd wanted the kid and Roarke gone before the body was brought out and transferred to the morgue.

"All the bagged evidence is stowed, Dallas." Peabody stepped up beside her. "They're bringing the victim out now."