I repeated what I'd told his wife.

"No, she was never found. What is this, some sort of a research project?"

"Your sister's name came up in relationship to another case."

"What kind of case?"

"An individual here in L.A.'s having memories of seeing a young woman abducted at a certain time and place. We've been reviewing missing persons cases that might be related."

"Memories? What, some kind of psychic? 'Cause we went through all that."

"No. This is a possible witness, but I have to emphasize it's very tenta-"

"What time and place are you talking about?"

"The Malibu area. Mid-August. Your sister was working as a waitress at a place called-"

"The Sand Dollar. Before that she worked in Beverly Hills."

"Waitressing?"

"Yeah, a Chinese place, Ah Loo. She got jobs in the fancy neighborhoods because she wanted to be an actress and thought she'd run into movie stars. God knows who she did run into. What makes you think it was Karen this witness saw?"

"We don't think anything of the sort, Mr. Best. The investigation's still at a very early stage, and I'm sorry if this-"

"Investigation?" he said. "We could never get Malibu Sheriffs to do a serious one. So what are you investigating?"

"Would you mind verifying a few things for me?" I read off Karen's height and weight.

He said, "Yeah, that's right."

"Blond hair-"

"Jesus," he said. "I can't believe that's still on there. We told them she dyed it brunette that summer. Brilliant!"

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why'd she go from blond to brunette? It's usually the other way around."

"That was her point. Everyone in L.A. was blond. She wanted to stand out. Her natural hair was gorgeous; my parents thought it was- what color hair did this supposed witness see?"

"It's by no means a clear memory, but the girl's described as having long dark hair and long legs."

Silence.

"Karen had really long legs; everyone said she should model- Lord Jesus, are you telling me we might finally get something here?"

"No, I'm sorry," I said. "Everything's very tentative."

"Yeah," he said. "Of course. Sure. No reason to start hoping now. Nothing to hope for anyway. She's dead. I accepted that years ago, haven't thought of her as alive in a long time. But my father… it was him you were calling, wasn't it? He'll freak out."

"He still thinks she's alive?"

"At this point, I don't know what he thinks. Let's just say he's not the type to let go. Looking for Karen wiped him out financially. We bought the house from him as a favor, after my mother died and he moved to California."

"He lives out here?"

"Highland Park."

An hour and a half drive from Malibu. I said, "Did he move in order to look for Karen?"

"That was the official reason, but he's… what can I say? He's my dad. Speak to him, see for yourself."

"I don't want to upset him."

"Don't worry- you couldn't. Here's the address and number."

I thanked him.

He said, "Now what do you mean by abducted? Kidnapped, something worse?"

"The witness remembers seeing a girl being carried off by some men, but the witness was very young at the time, so the details may not be accurate. It may not even have been Karen. I'm sorry for having to make this call without giving you something more concrete. We're a long way from hard evidence."

"Very young. You mean a kid?"

"Yes."

"Oh. So this really is pretty weak. Are there other girls involved, too? Because I can't believe you'd go to the trouble just for Karen. Is this some sort of serial killer thing?"

"There's no reason to believe that, Mr. Best. I promise to let you know if anything comes up."

"I hope you mean that. Karen was my only sibling. I've got six kids of my own… don't know what that has to do with anything."

I did. Replacement.

"Is there anything else," I said, "that you want to tell me about her?"

"What's to tell? She was beautiful, sweet, a real good kid. She'd be forty next month. I thought about that when I turned thirty-eight. She's dead, isn't she?"

"I'm not in any-"

"Bottom line," he said sadly. "She has to be. I knew something bad happened when she stopped calling- she always called, at least once a week on Sunday, usually other days too. She'd never have let us dangle all these years. If she was alive, we'd have heard from her. She got involved with something terrible out there. If you find out what, no matter how bad it is, call me. Don't rely on my dad to tell me. Give me your number."

I did, along with Milo's.

Before I hung up, he thanked me, and that made me feel low.

14

Twenty-one years of grief.

Sherrell Best's number stared up at me. It wasn't going to get easier.

A woman's taped voice answered.

"Welcome to the Church of the Outstretched Hand. If you're calling about food donations, our warehouse is located on Sixteen-seventy-eight North Cahuenga Boulevard, between Melrose and Santa Monica. Our dropoff chute is open twenty-four hours a day-"

Figuring it for a wrong number, I hung up, redialed, and got the same tape. This time I listened to the end.

"… specially canned goods, powdered milk, and baby formula. If you're calling for spiritual guidance, our twenty-four-hour Help Line is…"

I copied that number down. The tape ended with a quote from First Corinthians:

"Christ our passover is sacrificed for us: Therefore let us keep the feast, not with old leaven, neither with the leaven of malice and wickedness; but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth."

The Help Line was answered by another woman. I asked for Sherrell Best.

"The Reverend's out in back with the packages. Can I help you?"

I gave her the police psychologist semi-truth.

"The police?" she said. "Is there some problem?"

"It's concerning the Reverend's daughter."

"Karen?" Her voice jumped an octave.

"Yes."

"One minute."

Seconds later, a man said, "Sherrell Best. What about Karen?"

I started to give him my intro.

He said, "Please, sir. Tell me about Karen."

I repeated the story I'd told his son. When I was finished, he said, "Praise the Lord, I knew she'd be found."

"Reverend Best, I don't want to-"

"Don't worry, sir, I don't expect her to be restored. There was only one Rebirth. But the truth- I knew it would come out. "In your patience possess ye your souls.' "

"We don't really have the truth, Reverend. Just-"

"This is the beginning, sir. What does this witness remember?"

"Just what I told you. Sir."

"Well, I have things for you. Names, dates, clues. May I show them to you? It may sound stupid, but, please, would you humor an old maniac?"

"Certainly," I said.

"When can we meet? I'll come to you."

"How about tomorrow?"

Pause. "If need be, sir, I'll wait until tomorrow, but today would be better."

"I could meet you tonight," I said. "Around nine."

"Nine would be perfect. Where shall it be? The file's at my home."

"Your home's fine."

"I live in Highland Park." Repeating the address his son had given me. "Where are you coming from?"

"The west side."

"If you'd like I can come to you."

"No, it's no problem."

"You're sure? All right, then. I can have it all organized for you by the time you get there. Will you have time for dinner? I can prepare something."

"That won't be necessary."

"Coffee, then? Or tea?"

"Coffee."

"Coffee," he said, as if committing a menu to memory. "I look forward to it, sir. God bless you."