“I think first names are a good start toward building a relationship.” Kravitz looked at Emma. “Is that okay with you?”

She nodded.

I said, “Emma’s interactions with Venture haven’t gone well since she learned that her missing baby sister was mentioned in the anonymous letter Reality Check received.”

“I heard about that from Erwin,” Kravitz said. “I would have handled things differently, but from what he told me, not telling her the full contents of the letter was an oversight. He had no reason to withhold information.”

Emma said, “I don’t believe you. The man’s a controlling, egotistical-”

I rested a hand on her arm. “An apology from Mr. Mayo would go a long way.”

Kravitz laughed. “Erwin believes apologies might possibly be redeemable for cash in the future; thus he holds on to them. Never heard him apologize for one damn thing. But if it helps, I’m sorry you weren’t fully informed.”

Ah, the charming Paul Kravitz, the one I knew from TV, had appeared.

Emma repositioned her arm with a grimace and leaned back against the sofa. “I should have been told what was in the letter before I signed the contract.”

Kravitz nodded. “You’re absolutely right-but legally, Reality Check was under no obligation.” He reached inside his sports jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Would it help if you saw a copy?”

I sat up straighter and held out my hand. “You’re damn right it would.”

He passed the letter to me and I unfolded it so Emma and I could read it together. Meanwhile, Kravitz motioned to Stu to come closer.

The letter had been written on lined notebook paper in a lefty back-slanting style. It read:

Someone good for your show is Emma Lopez in Houston. She’s a good girl and works so hard. Her mother used to leave her to take care of everything lots of times. Then CPS took Emma and the other kids. When she was sixteen Emma was raising her brothers and sister herself. Still is. I been watching her and she doesn’t know about me. They have a little house in Crystal Grove, this falling down place. Your show helps strong, good people like Emma. She’s so beautiful and puts everyone ahead of her. Her mother had another baby that disappeared right after it was born in 1992. Maybe you could find this other kid for Emma, ’cause she’d want to know where the baby went. You don’t need my name. Please just help Emma.

I looked at Kravitz. “This is all they had to go on when they decided to sign Emma for Reality Check?” I noticed that Sandy had put her case on her lap and opened it to reveal dozens of pots of makeup as well as brushes, foam wedges, and Q-tips.

He said, “The research team does extensive work before they decide on a deserving family. We’ve learned pretty much everything about Emma.” His gray eyes stared straight into mine. “Everything. We didn’t anticipate the discovery of the bones, however. How could we?”

“Do you think I did?” Emma said almost to herself. She was staring at the letter I’d put down.

I poured myself a mug of coffee, thinking I understood Kravitz’s unspoken message. He knew about Gloria Wilks and her sons.

Kravitz said, “This begins our preinterview, Emma. First Sandy will dust you up with some makeup, enough to take away any shine. Then Stu will roll-but again, I promise you, none of this tape will be used by anyone except me. I will study the preinterview and decide if I’m going in the right direction. The actual interview will be far more thorough. Our investigators are still working in case the Reality Check researchers missed anything.”

“Forgive my paranoia, but I want your promise in writing not to use any of this preinterview,” Emma said.

I swallowed my second sip of the truly disgusting coffee and set down my mug. “Good idea. I’ll get some paper.”

While Sandy went to work on Emma, and Stu moved the chair she’d vacated to a different position with the lamp table beside it, I made up a minicontract on hotel stationery.

Kravitz, looking amused, signed it willingly. I served as a witness. Emma then moved over to the chair, looking more relaxed than I’d seen her all morning. Having a morsel of control seemed to have helped.

Kravitz told Stu to roll and said, “Emma, do you recognize the handwriting in the letter I just showed you?”

“No.”

“We have a handwriting expert examining the original. The person who wrote this is either left-handed and uneducated or they were faking one or both of those traits,” Kravitz said. “Does that information help you in any way identify the person who wrote it?”

“No,” Emma said.

I probably wasn’t supposed to say anything, but I did anyway. “Shouldn’t the police be given the original? Maybe the letter writer knows more about the baby’s disappearance. There could be DNA or fingerprints and-”

“Close to twenty people have handled that letter since we received it. I doubt there’s any usable evidence.” Kravitz didn’t seem bothered by my interruption; in fact, he seemed to welcome it. “Besides, the police haven’t asked for anything from us yet.”

“Right,” I said with more than a tinge of sarcasm. “And why give up anything without a request?”

“I was a print journalist before Crime Time. Forgive me if I’ve learned to keep information to myself. Offering to let Emma see the letter is a good-faith gesture,” he said evenly.

“And I am grateful,” Emma said. “Seeing the words in black and white is very different from hearing about this from Mr. Mayo. It seems much more real. Someone knew all about us. Someone was watching. But I can’t think who that could have been.”

“You have no clue?” Kravitz said.

“None. No one knew about the baby but me and my-” Emma’s free hand flew to her lips. “Oh, my God. My mother.”

Kravitz’s satisfied smile told me he’d gotten exactly what he wanted by producing that letter.

“You think Emma’s mother sent this?” I asked Kravitz. I was angry with myself. I hadn’t seen this coming.

“Could there be a more logical person? She may have abandoned her family, but we’re betting she hung around, checked up on you and your siblings, and when guilt got the better of her, she sent this to Reality Check.” He gestured at the letter.

I nodded. “Makes for a great story. Doesn’t quite explain the baby under the house, though.”

“In my experience interviewing more than a hundred criminals, I’ve come to understand that many of them want to be caught-their conscience at work, when they have one. Emma’s mother is probably no exception. She sent the letter, subconsciously hoping we’d track her down.”

This wasn’t working for me. Why did Christine O’Meara wait five years to disappear after the baby’s death? And I didn’t buy that she’d want to draw attention to a crime she may have committed, subconsciously or not. However, I decided not to question Paul Kravitz on these points. I liked him better than Chelsea or Mayo, but he sure hadn’t earned my trust yet.

Emma looked at me. “If my mother wrote the letter, that would mean she cared at least a tiny bit about us, wouldn’t it, Abby?”

“Do not get your hopes up about that,” I answered. “Think about it, Emma. Are you ready for a reunion with her while America watches? Because that’s what they’re setting you up for.”

Emma closed her eyes. “No, no-”

“Abby, Abby, Abby,” cut in Kravitz. “You have no idea how we work. We’re here to help solve a mystery.”

Sandy, who had been watching us all carefully, looked at Emma and said, “I’ve done makeup with Paul for years. He wants the truth; that’s all.”

I could tell Sandy believed that. It was nice to have a normal, self-possessed grandmother type in the room. She was so un-Hollywood.

Emma said, “Can we finish this?”

“Tell me what you know about your father,” Kravitz said.

Emma started right in, happy to talk about this subject.