She double-parked, flipped up her on duty sign. And wondered idly just how far traffic would back up before she came out again.

The building was a squat twelve-story box of block construction that surely hadn't seen its proper share of city maintenance dollars since it had been tossed up after the Urban Wars.

The lobby, such as it was, was small and crowded and boasted an ancient manual directory.

"Sixth floor." She walked right by the beleaguered lobby receptionist and onto an elevator. So much, Eve mused, for building security.

And as she'd had personal experience with Child Services, she knew that the kids who'd been sucked into the system could be just as dangerous as the adults who put them there.

She stepped out on six and saw someone had tried to add an illusion of cheer in this area. There was a section under a window with child-sized seating in primary colors and an offering of plastic toys. Across from it were two vid-game units currently under attack by a pair of bored, surly teenagers in rebel black.

She saw one of them gaze up and make her for a cop before his eyes traveled over Peabody's uniform and dismissed them both.

She walked up to him, waited for his lazy glance to meet hers again. Then she leaned over. "Take the knife out of your boot, real slow, and give it to me and I won't run you in for carrying a concealed."

Since it was concealed, and very well in his opinion, he only sneered. "Fuck off."

Eve's hand slapped on the hilt under his pant's leg seconds before his. "You want trouble with me, I'll oblige. Otherwise, I'll just take this and let you spend your mandatory hour bullshitting your social worker."

She yanked the knife out of his boot, slid it into her own. "Nice blade. Decent balance."

"Cost me seventy-five."

"You got hosed, pal. It's not that good."

She turned her back on him and walked to the young, cheery-faced receptionist. They were always young and cheery-faced because they rarely lasted a year before running away with their idealism shattered behind them.

"I need to see Clarissa Price." Eve laid her badge on the counter.

"Miss Price is in a family session. She should be finished in ten minutes."

"We'll wait." Eve walked back and deliberately dropped into the seat beside Knife Boy.

It took him twenty seconds of pretending indifference to break. "How'd you spot the sticker?"

"That'd be telling."

"Come on."

She'd already spotted the bruises on his wrists-fresh-and when he shifted saw the old burn marks on his shoulder, only partially hidden by his tough-guy muscle shirt.

That was one thing her father hadn't done to her, she thought. No burns, no scars. Wouldn't want to diminish the value of the merchandise.

"When you made me you moved your right leg back, rotated your ankle to check if the blade was under and secure. You get busted for carrying, they toss you in Juvie. Ever been inside?" The way he shrugged told her he hadn't. Yet. "I have. Whatever deal you've got it's better than being inside. Couple of years, they'll shove you out of the system, and your life's your own. You go inside at this stage, they'll keep tabs on you till you're twenty-one."

Since that was as close to advice or a lecture as she intended to give, she pushed up again and went out to hunt up a vending machine.

By the time she got bad coffee, the receptionist told her Miss Price had five minutes free before her next session.

It was a small office, but again the attempt had been made to brighten it. Art, obviously created by children, was framed to cover two of the walls. Files were neatly stacked on the desk and sat beside a little vase of fresh daisies. Behind them Clarissa looked as neat and competent as her ID photo.

"I'm sorry you had to wait," she began. "I'm afraid Lauren didn't get your name."

"Dallas, Lieutenant Dallas."

"We haven't met on the job?"

"No, I'm Homicide."

"Homicide. I see. What's this about? One of my kids?"

"No, not directly. You worked with some minors who had associations with a playground dealer, Louis K. Cogburn, and an alleged pedophile, Chadwick Fitzhugh."

"I worked with minors who were exploited by those individuals."

"A couple of your case files also intersected with other known or alleged child predators. But at the moment, we're interested in Cogburn, in Fitzhugh."

"Who are dead," Clarissa said flatly. "I heard the report on 75 this morning. Some para-organization is claiming responsibility."

"Terrorist organization," Eve corrected. "Who is also responsible for the death of an unrelated civilian and a police officer. You watch much screen? Sorry." Eve let her lips curve. "Just a personal debate between my aide and myself on the merits of media reports and keeping up with current events."

"I have 75 on most mornings and usually tune in at least briefly in the evenings." She smiled back. "Whose side am I on?"

"Hers." Eve jerked her head toward Peabody. "In any case, I'm primary investigator on these matters and I'm pursuing the possibility of connections between members of the group known as The Purity Seekers and minors who may have been exploited by Cogburn and/or Fitzhugh, as well asother child predators this group may have targeted. As the names of those minors are sealed and many of those who've reached majority have requested they remain sealed, I need your help."

"I can't break confidence with those kids and their families, Lieutenant, to help you in an investigation." She lifted pretty, ringless hands. "There's a reason for those seals. These children have been damaged, and while you have your job, I also have mine. Mine is to protect those children, and to do everything in my power to help them heal."

"Seals can be broken, Miss Price. It'll take me time, but I can get an order to open the files for this investigation."

"I understand that." Clarissa lifted both hands again. "And when you have that authorization, I'll help you in any way the law allows. But I work with these victims every day, and it's difficult enough to gain the trust of kidswho've already been hurt by an adult, to gain the trust of their families, even to find family members who give a damn. I can't help you until I'm ordered to."

"Did you ever have personal contact with Cogburn or Fitzhugh?"

"Professional contact. I gave statements to the P.A. on both men. That is, on the psychological damage done to the minors in my case file who'd had dealings with them. I never spoke with either of them, and I won't pretend to be sorry they're no longer around to hunt more children."

"Mary Ellen George."

Clarissa's face closed up. "She was acquitted."

"Should she have been?"

"A jury of her peers thought so."

"Have you had personal contact with her?"

"Yes. I had occasion to visit and examine the conditions of her day care facility, and I cooperated and worked with the police who ultimately arrested her. She was very convincing. Very… motherly."

"But she didn't convince you."

"This job requires a certain instinct, just as yours does. I knew what she was." A cold disgust, bordering on rage, hardened Price's features. "You win battles and you lose them. Losing's hard, but if you don't move on to the next in this field, you'll burn out. And I have to move on to the next now. I have another session, and I'm already late."

"I appreciate the time." Eve stepped to the door. "I will get that authorization, Miss Price."

"When you do, I'm at your disposal."

Outside, Eve ignored the knotted traffic fighting its way around her vehicle. She didn't bother to respond to the horns, the curses, the variety of obscene gestures. She just climbed in.

"She's by the book," Peabody began as Eve shoved into traffic. "But she'll be helpful once you get authorization."