"Was that the end of it?"

He sighed. "I did drive by their house, once or twice a week. Then they upped and left- moved out of Malibu. If that isn't guilt, I don't know what is. I called up the restaurant, pretending to be a friend, and was told they'd gone to Aspen. But they've been back in Malibu for over sixteen years. Own a place called Shooting the Curl- surfing supplies shop, near the pier. Doing very well, I might add. Tom drives one of those BMWs and Gwen has a fancy van."

"You still drive by."

"Only once a year, Dr. Delaware. On the anniversary of Karen's disappearance."

"Do you do anything else?"

"Do I try to talk to them? No, what would be the use? For me, it's a day of reflection. I drive from Santa Monica to Santa Barbara. If I see a homeless person, I stop and give them food. Sometimes I pull over at a campsite, but I don't talk to anyone or show Karen's picture. What would be the sense showing the picture of a nineteen-year-old girl?"

He looked down. Hooked his fingers under his glasses and rubbed his eyes again. "She's almost forty by now, but I still think of her as nineteen… Don't worry, doctor, I don't bother the Sheas. Whatever they did, they have to live with. And they have their own troubles now: a crippled child. Maybe one day they'll come to see that Providence and Fate emanate from the same place. When you approach them, don't mention my name, I'm sure they think of me as a raving lunatic."

"How long was Karen out in California before she disappeared?"

"Five months."

"How often did she write?"

"She never wrote. She phoned. Always on Sunday, and sometimes on Wednesday and Friday. That's why we were alarmed that first Sunday. She was like clockwork when it came to those Sunday phone calls. We phoned the restaurant, and they said she hadn't shown up for work."

"I assume she never said anything on a previous call that hinted at her disappearance."

"Nothing. She was happy, enjoying the weather, enjoying her job, everything was fine. She was trying to earn enough money to enroll in acting school."

"Did she say which school?"

"No, it never got that far."

"How did you feel about her becoming an actress?"

"We didn't really think she'd become one. We thought she'd try awhile and come back, go to college, meet someone nice."

His lip quivered.

"My wife took most of the calls. I was usually at the store. After Karen disappeared, I grew to hate the store. Gave it to Craig, but he sold it and got a job with the state. Building and Safety. After I moved here, my first year was taken up completely by looking for Karen. The second year too, but nothing was turning up. I had time on my hands and started to read the Bible. Till then I wasn't a religious man- I'd gone to church but I thought about profits and losses while pretending to worship. This time, the Bible started to mean something to me. I found a seminary in Eagle Rock and enrolled. Got ordained five years later and started the church. Do you know what we do?"

"Distribute food to poor people."

"To anyone, we don't ask questions. No one gets paid. I live off my Social Security and the few bonds I have left, and the others are all volunteers. Restaurants donate the food. It's a good life. I only wish Karen were here to see it."

He gobbled a cookie and swallowed coffee that had to be cold.

I looked at the cardboard box.

He emptied the rest of the contents onto the table. "I'm going to clean up."

Clearing the dishes, he began washing them.

I opened the first of four photograph albums covering Karen Best's development from infancy to young womanhood. Taped to the second was a tiny envelope labeled First haircut.

Holding the packet up to the light I saw several curly snippets inside.

Grade school graduation program. Karen, the winner of a Good Citizenship award.

High school yearbook, Karen in French Club and Song Girls. Karrie. Her eyes speak volumes.

A prom shot: Karen beautiful and mature-looking by now, her blond hair long and silky and curled at the ends. On the arm of a gawky boy with a dark Beatles do and a struggling mustache.

A dessicated orchid corsage in a stiff plastic packet embossed with the name of a New Bedford florist.

A hundred or so copies of the sheet Best had given me, bound by rubber bands.

A copy of the Lord's Prayer.

I put it all back. Best was standing over the kitchen sink, hands in plastic gloves, the water full blast and steaming.

I went in.

As he washed, he stared at something over the faucet.

Another Bible picture, this one a black-and-white etching.

A young woman being dragged by her hair.

Dinah's Abduction by Shechem.

Best's gloved hands were clenched. The steam had fogged his glasses and his lips moved rapidly.

Praying.

15

When I got back, I read the Bible. What I learned made it hard for me to fall asleep.

The next morning, Robin and I had breakfast in town; then I drove back to the library and had a second look at the newspaper account of the Sanctum party. August 15. Karen Best had been last seen the night before.

After xeroxing the article, I called Milo. He was out but Del Hardy picked up. The black detective was Milo's occasional partner, but they hadn't worked together recently.

"Hey, doc, how's it going?"

"Pretty good. How's the guitar?"

"Sitting in a closet, no time to play. Listen, Bigfoot's finishing up a robbery at the Smart Shop on Palms, maybe you can catch him."

He gave me the number, and I talked to a female officer who finally put me through to Milo.

"Morning salutations." He sounded distracted.

"Don't want to bug you but-"

"Nah, I'm finished here. What's up?"

I told him.

"The Best girl," he said. "Wasn't she a blonde?"

"She dyed her hair that summer. And according to her brother she had very long legs. It may turn out to be nothing, but I just-"

"It- uh-oh, TV crew just drove up, gotta split. Where are you?"

"Westwood."

"Meet me at Rancho Park, on the north end, past the baseball diamond- take the first entrance past the golf course and go as far as you can. You'll know me 'cause I won't be feeding the ducks."

I got there a quarter hour later and found him on a bench, near a cement wading pond that had been drained but was still streaked with algae. A stray retriever was nosing the grass. No ducks or people in sight. I showed him Best's data sheet and the clipping and pointed out the date of the party.

"Night before she missed her call home, for what it's worth."

He skimmed and handed it all back to me. "You actually met with the father?"

"At his request."

"How does he grab you?"

"Devoted. Obsessive."

"So you two got along great."

"There was a certain rapport there." I summarized what Best had told me about the search for Karen, ending with his suspicion of the Sheas.

"So what does that have to do with Lowell and Trafficant? Paradise Cove is- what?- ten, fifteen miles up from Topanga."

"She worked in Paradise Cove, but she lived near Topanga Beach. I passed the address coming into town. Just a hop and a jump from Topanga Canyon Road. Then there's the time frame and her physical similarity to the girl in the dream."

Crossing his long legs, he looked up at the sky. An airplane was writing something illegible. He shook his head. "This father sounds obsessive to the point of nuttiness. The way he's been bugging those people."

"He says he hasn't done it for years. If that's true, it indicates self-control."

He continued skygazing. "Actually, that does amaze me. Living in the same city with them, believing they know something, and letting it go."