"We know what happened: Someone stole my son."

Gittamon turned from the doors and went to the couch. Starkey sat with him, taking out a small spiral notebook.

"I know that you're frightened, Ms. Chenier, I would be frightened, too. But it's important for us to understand Ben and whatever led up to this."

I said, "Nothing led up to this, Gittamon. Some asshole just grabbed him."

Lucy was good in court and was used to thinking about difficult things during stressful situations. This was infinitely worse, but she did well at keeping herself focused. Probably better than me.

She said, "I understand, Sergeant, but this is my child."

"I know, so the sooner we do this, the sooner you'll have him back."

Gittamon asked Lucy a few general questions that didn't have anything to do with being grabbed off a hill. While they spoke, I wrote down everything the caller had said to me, then went upstairs for a picture of Ben and one of the snapshots Ben had found of me in my Army days. I had not looked at that picture or any of the others for years until Ben found them. I hadn't wanted to see them.

Poitras was sitting on the Eames chair in the corner when I got back.

He said, "PacBell's working on the trace. We'll have the source number in a couple of hours."

I gave the pictures to Gittamon.

"This is Ben. The other picture is me. I wrote down what the man said, and I'm pretty sure I didn't leave anything out."

Gittamon glanced at the pictures, then passed them to Starkey.

"Why the picture of you?"

"The man who called said 'five-two.' You see the man next to me holding the sign with the number? Five-two was our patrol number. I don't know what else this guy could have meant."

Starkey glanced up from the pictures.

"You don't look old enough for Vietnam."

"I wasn't."

Gittamon said, "All right, what else did he say?"

I pointed at the sheet.

"I wrote it down for you word for word. He didn't say much – just the number and that he had Ben, and that he was paying me back for something."

Gittamon glanced over the sheet, then passed it to Starkey, too.

Poitras said, "You recognize his voice?"

"I don't have any idea who he is. I've been racking my brain, but, no, I didn't recognize it."

Gittamon took back the picture from Starkey and frowned at it.

"Do you believe him to be one of the men in this picture?"

"No, that's not possible. A few minutes after this picture was taken, we went out on a mission, and everyone was killed but me. That makes it stand out, the five-two; that's why I remember."

Lucy sighed softly. Starkey's mouth tightened as if she wanted a cigarette. Gittamon squirmed, as if he didn't want to talk about something so uncomfortable. I didn't want to talk about it, either.

"Well, ah, was there some kind of incident?"

"No, not if you're asking if it was my fault. It just went bad. I didn't do anything except survive."

I felt guilty that Ben was missing and embarrassed that he seemed to be missing because of me. Here we were all over again, another nightmare delivered to Lucy's doorstep by yours truly.

I said, "I don't know what else the man on the phone could have meant. That's all it could be."

Starkey shifted toward Gittamon.

"Maybe we should get Ben's description out to patrol."

Poitras nodded, telling her to get on with it. "Talk to the phone company, too. Have them set up a line trap on Elvis's phone."

Starkey took her cell phone into the entry. While Starkey was making the calls, Gittamon asked about my past few days with Ben. When I told him I found Ben looking through my closet, Gittamon raised his eyebrows.

"So Ben knew about this five-two business?"

"Not about the others getting killed, but he saw the pictures."

"And this was when?"

"Earlier in the week. Three days ago, maybe. What does that have to do with anything?"

Gittamon concentrated on the picture, as if he was on the edge of a profound thought. He glanced at Lucy, then looked back at me.

"I'm just trying to see how this fits. The implication is that he took Ms. Chenier's son as revenge for something that you did – not Ms. Chenier, but you. But Ben isn't your son or stepson, and hasn't lived with you except these past few days. I understand that correctly, don't I? You and Ms. Chenier maintain separate residences?"

Lucy unfolded herself on the hearth. Gittamon was obviously considering other possibilities, and Lucy was interested.

"Yes, that's right."

Gittamon nodded, and looked back at me.

"Why would he take Ms. Chenier's son if it's you he hates so much? Why wouldn't he just burn down your house or shoot you or even just sue you? You see what I'm getting at?"

I saw, and didn't much like it.

"Look, that's not it. Ben wouldn't do that. He's only ten."

Lucy glanced from Gittamon to me, then back, not understanding.

"What wouldn't Ben do?"

"Lou, for Christ's sake."

Poitras nodded, agreeing with me.

"Dave, Ben wouldn't do that. I know this kid."

Lucy said, "Are you saying that Ben staged his own abduction?"

Gittamon placed the picture on the coffee table as if he had seen enough.

"No, ma'am, it's too early to say, but I've seen children stage abductions for all manner of reasons, especially when they're feeling insecure. A friend's older brother could have made the call to Mr. Cole."

I was angry and irritated. I went to the doors. A frightened part of me hoped that Ben would be on the deck, watching us, but he wasn't.

I said, "If you don't want to raise false hopes, then stop. I spent the past five days with him. Ben wasn't feeling insecure, and he wouldn't do that."

Lucy's voice snapped behind me.

"Would you rather someone kidnapped him?"

She wanted to believe it so badly that hope glowed in her eyes like hot sparks.

Poitras pushed up from the Eames chair. "Dave? If you have enough to get started, let's roll out of here. I want to knock on a couple of doors. Maybe someone down the hill saw something."

Gittamon gestured to Starkey that she could close her notebook, then stood to join Poitras.

"Ms. Chenier, please, I'm not saying Ben staged his own abduction – I'm really not, Mr. Cole – but it's something we have to consider. I'd like a list of Ben's friends and their phone numbers. It's still early enough to make a few calls."

Lucy stood with them, as intent and focused as I had ever seen her.

"I'll have to get them from home. I can go do that right now."

I said, "Gittamon, you going to ignore the goddamned call?"

"No, Mr. Cole, we're going to treat this as an abduction until we know otherwise. Can you put together a list of the people involved with whatever happened to you in the Army and any other information you have?"

"They're dead."

"Well, their families. We might want to speak with their families. Carol, would you get together with Mr. Cole on that?"

Starkey handed me her card as the four of us went to the door.

Starkey said, "I'll come by tomorrow morning to see where you found the Game Freak. I can get the names then. What's a good time?"

" Sunrise."

If Starkey heard the anger in my answer she didn't show it. She shrugged.

"Better light around seven."

"Fine."

Gittamon said, "If he calls again, let us know. You can phone any time."

"I will."

That was it. Gittamon told Lucy that he would be expecting her call, and then they left. Lucy and I did not speak as we watched them drive away, but once they were gone Ben's absence was a physical force in the house, as real as a body hanging from my loft. Three of us present, not just two. Lucy picked up her briefcase. It was still where she dropped it.

"I want to get those names for Sergeant Gittamon."