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She took out a cigarette, lit it, took a deep puff. 'I'm not real good with faces.'

'Anything, Lucy,' Esperanza added. 'Young, old, anything you can remember.'

Another puff. Then: 'Old. Not ancient, but not a young guy. Might have been my father's age. And he knew what he was doing.' She looked at Myron. 'Not like you. Bernie Worley. Jesus.'

Myron pressed on. 'What do you mean, he knew what he was doing?'

'The man paid me top dollar under one condition: I hand over every photo and negative in front of him right now. Smart. He wanted to make sure I didn't have time to make any extra copies or an extra set of negatives.'

'How much did he pay you?'

'Sixty-five hundred altogether. In cash. Five grand for the photos and negatives. Plus another grand for Jerry's phone number. Said he wanted to get in touch with the girl personally. Then he gave me another five hundred if I didn't say anything to Jerry.'

In the background there was yet another blood-curdling scream. It went ignored. 'Would you know the man if you saw him again?' Myron asked.

'I don't know,' she said. 'I can't picture him now, but if we met up face to face… who knows?' There was a pounding noise from the darkroom.

'Mind if I let Hector out now?'

'We were just leaving,' Myron said. He handed her a card. 'If you remember anything else-'

'Yeah, I'll call.' She looked over to Esperanza. 'Don't be a stranger, Poco.'

Esperanza nodded but said nothing. They were quiet the entire way down. When they stepped into the hot air, surrounded by the night street, she said, 'Didn't mean to shock you in there.'

'Not my business,' he said. 'I was a little surprised, that's all.'

'Lucy is a lesbian. I experimented with it a little. Long time ago.'

'You don't have to explain,' he said. But he was glad she told him. Myron had no secrets from Esperanza. He didn't like thinking she had some from him.

They were about to head back to the car when Myron felt the muzzle of a gun against his ribs.

A voice said, 'Stay cool, Myron.'

It was the man with the fedora hat from the garage. He reached into Myron's jacket and took out the.38. A second man, this one with a Gene Shalit-like mustache, grabbed Esperanza and pressed his gun against her temple.

'If Myron moves,' Fedora said to the other man, 'blow the bitch's brains all over the sidewalk.'

The man nodded, half-smiling.

'Come on,' Fedora said, nudging Myron forward with the gun. 'Let's take a little walk.'

132

24

Jessica parked in front of the house Nancy Serat was renting for the semester. It was more a cottage really, located at the end of a dark street about a mile from the campus of Reston University. Even at night Jessica could see the house's salmon-pink hue, which seemed to clash with the planet earth. The landscape looked like the trees had vomited - the front yard of The Munsters. A faded us acre street was stenciled on the weatherbeaten sign. A blue Honda Accord with a Reston University bumper sticker sat in the driveway.

Jessica headed down the broken remnants of what must have once been a cement path. She rang the bell and immediately heard a scurrying sound.

Several seconds passed. No one approached the door. She tried again. No scurrying sound this time. No sound at all.

'Nancy?' she called out. 'It's Jessica Culver.'

She hit the bell a few more times, though in a house this small there was not much chance she hadn't been heard. Unless Nancy was in the shower. A possibility. The lights, she could see through the window shades, were on.

The car was in the driveway. Jessica had heard movement.

Nancy had to be home.

Jessica reached out for the knob. Under normal conditions some filter in her mind would probably have stopped her from simply trying to open the door of a virtual stranger (she had only met Nancy once). But these conditions were hardly normal. She took hold of the knob and turned.

Locked.

Now what?

She stood at the door five more minutes ringing the bell. Still nothing.

Jessica circled the house, using a distant streetlight and the house's glow-in-the-dark properties to guide her. She stumbled over a tricycle that looked like something recovered from an archaeological dig. Her feet got tangled in the high grass, the prickly ends tickling her calves. As she circled, Jessica Peeked through the small openings in the window shades. She could make out rooms and spotted an occasional piece of furniture or wall hanging, but no people.

In the backyard she saw the shades were not pulled down in the kitchen.

133

The lights were off too. It was pitch black here, the pink not getting the illumination of the streetlight to cast its glow. She peered through the kitchen window, cupping her hands around her face to cut off the reflection. A sliver of light from the front room slashed across the room.

On the table sat a purse. And a set of keys.

Someone was home.

A sound behind her made her jump. Jessica spun, but it was too dark to make out what it was. Her heart beat wildly in her chest. Crickets singsonged unceasingly. She pounded on the door with both fists.

'Nancy! Nancy!'

She heard the panic in her voice and scolded herself for it. Get a grip.

You're spooking yourself.

She stopped, took a few deep breaths, felt herself relax. She took another look through the window, pressing her face right up against the glass. She was watching the sliver of light when it happened.

Someone walked by.

Jessica jumped back. She hadn't seen the person, hadn't seen anything, except the sliver of light disappear for the briefest of seconds. She looked again. Nothing. But someone had gone past and blocked off the light. She put her hand on the kitchen doorknob.

This time the door was not locked. The knob turned easily.

Don't just go in, dodo! Call the cops!

And say what? I knocked on a door and no one answered? That I then started peeking through windows and saw someone moving around?

That doesn't sound so bad.

Sounds bad enough to me. Besides, I'd have to find a phone. By the time I do that, whatever is going on may be over. I may have lost my one opportunity…

Opportunity for what?

She pushed the voice away. Then she opened the door. She waited for the door to squeak madly, but it slid open with remarkable silence. She stepped into the kitchen and left the door open. Better for the quick getaway.

'Nancy?'

'Kathy?

She clasped her hand over her mouth. She hadn't meant that. Kathy wasn't here. Jessica wished like hell she were, but that would be too easy.

Kathy wasn't here. And if she were, she certainly would not be afraid to open the door for her sister. Her baby sister. The sister with the bright smile.

The sister whom she loved…

The sister you let slip away. The sister you impatiently rushed off the line the night she vanished.

For several minutes Jessica just stayed in the kitchen. There were no sounds, except those maddening crickets. No running water. No shower.

No scurrying. No footsteps. She opened the purse and extracted the wallet.