"It's not a matter of gullible. All of us are like locks. No matter how strong the bolt, there's always a key out there that opens it."

"So what're you saying? I'm a sucker for her? You think she's lying?"

"I think she's a very confused young woman. The dream, now this. I'm having trouble sorting out reality, so I imagine it's pretty tough for her."

"You only answered one question."

"Do I think you're a sucker for her? I'd term it emotionally susceptible, and, yeah, you sure are. Do I think it's bad? No. She needs help and you're providing it. Like you said, the worst that can happen is you get snookered. Any more discussion about your being gay?"

"Nope, it didn't come up." He looked burdened.

"What?" I said.

"What's the other stuff you said you wanted to talk to me about?"

"The Karen Best scenario looks a little less theoretical. I was over at the Sand Dollar yesterday and happened to get served by a waitress named Doris Reingold. She was on Best's list- been working there all this time. She told me Gwen Shea recruited staffers regularly for nighttime catering gigs. Karen's name didn't come up- there was no way to work it into the conversation. But Best did say Karen was friendly with the Sheas. It's logical they'd have thrown some work her way. So maybe she worked the Sanctum party."

"Why didn't the private eye find any of this out?"

"Maybe he was incompetent and didn't ask the right questions. The staff kept catering gigs quiet. The Dollar's owner didn't approve."

He pushed back from the table and stretched his legs. "You just happened to get served by her, huh?"

"Scout's honor."

"And you just happened to be eating there."

"Place has a great view," I said.

He looked at the glass doors. "Like you need to go somewhere for that."

"I didn't turn any rocks over," I said. "Doris thinks I'm just a friendly guy who tips big. And it's at least thought-provoking, isn't it? Karen fits the girl in Lucy's dream, she disappears the night before the party. Big bash like that could have taken a couple of days to set up. Maybe she went up early. If the Sheas hired her and something happened to her, that would be a fine reason for them to act evasive with her father. Throw in Trafficant and his disappearance, and it's a little more than random numbers, wouldn't you say?"

He walked over to the window. "Okay, my thoughts are provoked, but let's not forget the only reason this came up in the first place is Lucy's dream. And we still don't know how much of that is real."

"Karen Best's disappearance is real. And there'd be no easy way for Lucy to know that. Unlike the party, it wasn't covered in the Times. Best said all the major papers shined him on."

I got the copy of the Shoreline Shopper and handed it to him.

"He paid for this. The paper went out of business shortly after. I doubt it's catalogued in any library."

He read as I looked at the gulls. "Says here no one saw her after she left the restaurant at eleven P.M. on Friday, never came home that night. So you're saying she went up to Sanctum and spent the night?"

"Maybe she had a one-night stand with a guy. A guy who picked her up and hurt her."

"Trafficant?"

"He was famous."

"Then what? He offs her Friday night? Or parties with her again on Saturday and then offs her?"

"In the dream, Lucy remembers lights and noise. Maybe that was the staff setting up, but it sounds more like the party itself."

"The dream," he said, shaking his head. "So she's there working on Saturday. Slinging designer hash to hundreds of people and no one remembers her."

"There's no indication either the sheriffs or Barnard made any connection to the party."

"Maybe because Karen wasn't there." He waved the clipping. "This is major coverage, locally. You'd think someone around the beach area would have seen it."

"That piece ran six months after the disappearance. Who's going to remember a waitress who served them half a year ago? With Lowell and movie stars at the party, who'd notice the staff, period? It would be nice to get hold of Felix Barnard and see if he has any of his old records, but I can't find a listing on him. Some background on the Sheas would be useful too. Like, have they gotten involved in anything shaky since then? I can pay another visit to the Sand Dollar and try to get more out of Reingold. The chef who catered the party would be another potential source. For old time cards or personnel records that could verify Karen's presence. Some guy named Nunez. Scones Restaurant."

"Dead," said Milo. "AIDS, couple of years ago."

"You knew him?"

"Rick knew him. Patched up a sliced finger in the ER. We went to his restaurant a couple of times and got comped. Vegetables I'd never seen before and the portions were too small." He tapped the glass lightly.

"Have you punched Trafficant into the computer yet?"

He nodded. "Nothing on NCIC. Haven't had a chance to look into his tax returns. Have you called his publisher?"

"No, too late to do it now, I'll try tomorrow. I may also get a chance to sound out his patron."

I described my conversation with Lowell.

He said, "Sounds like the asshole Lucy says he is. Why his sudden interest?"

"Good question. Peter phoned him from New Mexico, too, and told him about Lucy's suicide attempt. Lowell implied it was an attempted guilt trip that didn't work. He claims he has insights to offer on Lucy, though his tone was more contemptuous than concerned."

"Insights? After all these years?"

"He's sure she hasn't changed much. The only thing I can think of is he's trying, in a bizarre way, to get some kind of relationship going."

"By being contemptuous?"

"He's a real piece of work, Milo. Spews out words nonstop. He made such a point about not feeling guilty, it could mean on some level he does feel responsible."

"Weird," he said. "So old Pucko continues to call everyone but Lucy. Guy gives me a definite bad feeling- like that picture on her TV. She's smiling, but he looks like he can't wait to get the hell out of there and jam a spike in his arm. And he's more than a penny-ante addict. Three arrests for possession of heroin and two for selling, all within the last six years. There's also a sealed juvenile record back in Massachusetts and some misdemeanor stuff with Boston PD. The biggest bust was three years ago. He tried to peddle thirty grand worth of smack to an undercover cop. Got off on technicalities, case dismissed. Gary Mandel was his lawyer. Ever hear of him?"

"No."

"Ex-prosecutor, specializes in serious dope cases, very big retainer."

"Think Puck's connected?"

"Thirty g doesn't make him King Smack, but it does make him more than a street-corner pusher. If he was playing with the big-tentacle crowd and offended someone, that would explain the quick escape. Whatever, Lucy ain't winning any family values sweepstakes; hope Ken turns out to be a good egg. When you gonna go see Daddy?"

"I'm not unless Lucy wants me to. And I'm not going to bring it up until I'm sure it won't agitate her."

"Yeah." He turned toward the tide pools. A couple of skiffs were floating out near the kelp beds. "God, it's gorgeous here. You could forget what planet you're on."

"Sure could," I said, but I was thinking of log cabins and the crushing terror darkness could bring to a small child's mind.

The phone rang, jolting both of us. I picked it up.

"Doctor? Ken Lowell. I'm still in Palo Alto, but I wanted you to know I got that Brentwood place set up for Lucy. I'm catching a seven o'clock flight, should be able to be there by eight-thirty, nine. Do you want me to come by and pick her up or should I just meet you there?"

I asked Milo.

"Tell him to meet us."