“How did that go?” Kate asked.

“Lots of kids coming and going, and our foster parents were pretty cold people. Mrs. Henderson suggested I become an emancipated minor at sixteen. I still owned the house, and we were able to move back in. She’d made sure I didn’t lose it by helping me keep up the insurance and tax payments from the trust.”

Kate said, “Mrs. Henderson sounds like a great person.”

“She was the best,” Emma said.

“Was?” Kate asked.

“She retired. Moved away.”

“Bet you miss her,” Kate said.

“Sort of,” Emma said. “But foster care teaches you to never get too close. We saw about twenty kids come and go. Good-byes can be hard, so you get hard.”

Kate nodded, and I saw her eyes fill as she looked down at her tablet. She’d had a rough day and was probably ripe for a crying session even without hearing this story.

I looked at Luke and Shannon. “I hear from Emma the baby part is new information for you guys.”

Luke said, “When Emma found out that Mr. Mayo knew, she told us.”

“But someone outside the family obviously was aware of the missing baby,” I said. “The person who wrote that letter to the Reality Check staff. Could it have been the day care lady, as you called her?”

“Not her. She was almost as nasty as my mother,” Emma said.

“Then who?” I asked.

Emma said, “I have no idea.”

“Finding that person is important, because whoever it is may know what your mother did with the child,” I said.

“I agree,” Emma replied. “But I’d like to find out if there’s any way I can get out of the contract first. Since the demolition is set for the day after tomorrow, I realize that’s asking a lot.”

“Day after tomorrow? I had no idea,” I said. “The way I read that contract, once the city tears the house down, Venture sends their builder in immediately. Any chance we can delay the demolition to give Mark, my lawyer friend, more time? Meanwhile, I could start hunting for the person who wrote the letter.”

Emma shook her head, looking discouraged. “Right after I found out Mr. Mayo knew about my baby sister, I asked for a delay from the city.”

“The city?” Kate said.

“Yes,” Emma said. “They’ll be tearing the house down. They gave me one delay but said that was it. The house is a hazard-very old and structurally unsound. No cement foundation.” Emma closed her eyes and looked down at her clenched hands again. “How I wish I’d taken the deal the city offered.”

Luke said, “Emma’s all stressed because of those TV assholes. They made their deal sound so sweet. On Extreme Makeover: Home Edition, you can tell they care. Those guys are decent.”

Emma smiled at Luke. “I know you’re upset, but please watch the language, okay?”

“Yeah. Sure,” he mumbled, reaching for the dog again.

“Guess I should have a chat with Chelsea’s boss first,” I said. “Maybe I could convince him to give you more time, even if the house has to go down as planned.”

“Don’t count on him,” Shannon said. “He’s like a human ice cube and smells like the Dillard’s cologne counter.”

“Worth a try,” I said, making a silent vow not to fail them like their mother had.

4

The next day, a sunny Monday morning, I awoke with plenty of energy, juiced by all the information and leads to follow. I had to see Mayo, and I figured that since the demolition was set for tomorrow, he might be in town. I showered, dressed in shorts and a blue T-shirt, and went downstairs in time to hear the message Kate was listening to on the answering machine.

“Please, Kate,” Terry’s recorded voice said. “I’m sorry about how upset you were when you left. I don’t feel any closure. I believe you want what I want, but you just don’t know it. Can we get together someplace neutral? Talk this out? Because-”

Kate hit the delete button on the machine and said, “No way, Terry.”

“Good for you,” I said.

She sighed. “He’ll make a great father and husband when he meets the right person. That’s not me. Meanwhile, I have clients to see.”

She was dressed for work: dark gray linen skirt and shirt with matching shoes. But despite the gorgeous natural-stone necklace that added some life to her appearance, this was a mourning outfit. Funeral attire. When she went back to her usual pastels, I’d be relieved. For now she needed to grieve, and I respected that.

“You booked all day?” I asked.

“Pretty much. I’ll be plenty busy.”

“Me, too. I hope to find Erwin Mayo, talk to him.”

She looked me up and down. “Dressed like you’re going to the mall?”

“Hey. I know you’re having a hard time, but-”

She held up a hand. “Sorry. That was out of line.”

I nodded. “You’re right. And maybe now’s a good time to set a few ground rules about our eating habits during your stay. I am not into organic brown rice and black beans. And I swear tofu is not real. It’s produced by al-Qaeda and sent here to wipe out all the smart people like you.”

She actually laughed. Good sign.

“Now get to work before you have to fire yourself.” I headed for the fridge after she left and grabbed a yogurt, the kind that tastes like dessert.

Webster was whimpering at the door for his lost mistress, but Diva rubbed up against him, and pretty soon the two of them would be curled together to sleep the morning away.

Yogurt and spoon in hand, I went to my office, took out Emma’s file and found Chelsea Burch’s card. She answered on the first ring and must have seen my caller ID, because she said, “Abby. What’s going on? Have you spoken to Emma?”

“I have. Now I’d like to talk to you. Where can we meet?” I left out my real purpose-getting to Mayo. Let her think I was her best friend. Bet she needed one.

“We have a trailer set up on an empty lot down the street from Emma’s house. We’ll be working out of here from now on.”

“You never mentioned the demolition was set for tomorrow,” I said.

“We don’t talk about our schedule. I mean, like, you could say something to someone, and then we’d get all sorts of extra media attention. When we go to smaller towns it’s no problem, but in a big city like Houston we can’t have a huge crowd all wanting to be on TV.”

“I’m with you on that.” I sounded as pleasant as possible, considering she’d decided I couldn’t be trusted with the schedule. “When can I come by?”

“I’ll be here all day, preparing for the first taping.”

“See you within the hour.” I hung up. Just like her, I planned to give out very little information. And once I learned Erwin Mayo’s whereabouts, I’d be done with Chelsea Burch.

Emma’s neighborhood in northeast Houston had been crying for help probably as long as I’ve been alive. Peeling paint, damaged roofs, and houses tilting in the ever-shifting Texas soil told the story. A few small homes must have already been rebuilt, because they looked new and had cement foundations, unlike most of the houses on Emma’s street. I found the trailer first, on an empty corner lot, but after I parked on the grass and got out, I realized something was happening down the street. Loud voices carried from very near where Map-Quest had told me Emma’s house stood.

I thought I heard Emma, and sure enough, she and Chelsea Burch were standing in the street beside a small moving van. Chelsea’s arms were crossed, and Emma was yelling and gesturing at a small clapboard house that hadn’t seen a new coat of paint in maybe thirty years. Looked to me like the place might fall down even before they brought in a bulldozer.

I hurried their way, thinking that Emma and her family were lucky they hadn’t all died under a collapsed roof. But before I reached them, my cell rang. I pulled my phone from my pocket and flipped it open. Mark’s caller ID.