Roger glowered at the skyline. Terrific. "What exactly is she missing?"

"I'm not really sure," Caroline said. "She called it a task, or something like that."

"Not task; trassk," Roger corrected, feeling his lip twist. "Tell her to relax—I've got it."

"You do? What is it?"

"It's that brooch you found in the junk drawer," Roger said. "Torvald and his friends were kind enough to tell me its name."

There was a moment of silence from the other end. "You're talking about the brooch that might have once been a gun, right?" Caroline asked. "And this Torvald knows about it?"

"He knows more than we do," Roger said. "But never mind that now. Get going, okay? And call me right away if there are any more problems."

"I'll try," Caroline said. "Good-b—"

"Wait a second," Roger cut her off. "What do you mean, you'll try? You call, period."

"I can only call if you've got the phone on," Caroline said patiently.

"It is on," Roger said, pulling the phone from his ear for a quick check of the battery indicator. "Has been, ever since I left the office this morning."

"Then you must have been under a pile of metal," Caroline said. "I tried calling you fifteen minutes ago and got the 'out of range' message each time."

"That's crazy," Roger protested. "Fifteen minutes ago I was—"

He broke off. "I was in Torvald's," he went on slowly. "A small, old building without any metal structure to it. No reason a cell shouldn't have worked perfectly."

"Like there was no reason for a group of streetlights to go dim the way they did two nights ago?"

Caroline asked quietly.

Roger winced. "Yeah," he agreed. "You be careful, okay? No telling how many other players there are in this game."

"I'll bet Melantha knows," Caroline said. "Maybe I can get her to talk."

"After you get to Paul and Janet's," Roger warned.

"Yes, of course," Caroline said with a half-audible sigh. "We'll see you later."

Roger clicked off the phone, glancing around as he put it away. Sylvia probably still had someone following him, hoping he would lead them to Melantha. Now, more than likely, Torvald had added a tail of his own. Two very different groups of people, both of them desperate to get hold of Melantha.

And he still didn't have the faintest idea why.

But Caroline was right: Melantha knew. He could see it in her eyes, in her evasiveness, in her fear.

She knew.

And tonight, one way or another, he was going to get some answers out of her.

9

With a frustrated grunt, Caroline dropped the phone back onto its hook. After you get to Paul and Janet's. Right—like she was going to stand here in front of all New York and get into some long involved conversation with Melantha. Didn't he think she could figure that out for herself?

Didn't he think she could think for herself?

"What did he say?"

Caroline turned to the anxious face looking at her from just inside the office door. "It's all right," she assured the girl, carefully filtering the annoyance out of her voice. There was no point in dumping any of this on Melantha, after all. "Roger's got your trassk. He'll bring it to the new place with him."

"Oh," Melantha said, sounding a little uncertain. "He'll be careful with it, won't he?"

"I'm sure he will," Caroline said, studying her face. Some of the tension had eased at the news that her brooch was safe. But only some of it. "So off we go," she continued, trying to force some cheerfulness into her voice. "As long as we're here anyway, is there anything you need? A snack, maybe, to keep you going until we can get a real meal?"

Slowly, Melantha turned around to peer into the main part of the store, that same uncertain look still on her face. "Yes," she murmured. Turning her head to the side, she started slowly toward the front.

Caroline watched her go, frowning. For the past fifteen minutes all the girl had been able to think or talk about had been her trassk. Now, like a light switch flicking on in her brain, her top priority had apparently shifted to checking out the snack section.

"You get through?"

She turned as the store manager eased past her from the storeroom, three boxes of cigarettes balanced across his forearms. "Yes, Lee, thanks," she said. "And thanks for letting me use your phone."

"No problem," he said. "First rule of business is to treat your customers right."

"I appreciate it," Caroline said. "One of these days we really need to get a second cell phone."

"Yeah, but then you start depending on the things," Lee warned. "Then the cells get overloaded, or the system crashes, and then where are you? Give me good solid wires any day."

"You may be right," Caroline said diplomatically.

"So who's the young lady?" Lee asked, nodding toward the front of the store. "Relative?"

"No, just a friend," Caroline said, turning her head to follow his gaze. "She's been visiting for awhile and—"

The rest of the carefully prepared story caught abruptly in her throat. Melantha had not, as she'd expected, stopped by the snack food display. She was still walking in that same slow, deliberate pace.

Heading straight for the door.

"Excuse me," Caroline said, dropping her suitcase inside the office and hurrying after her. No mistake; the girl was heading outside. For a second Caroline considered calling to her, realized in time that shouting the name Melantha might attract the wrong kind of attention. Picking up her pace, she concentrated instead on getting to the door first.

Strangely enough, even with Melantha's head start it didn't look like it would be much of a contest.

Even as Caroline dodged around and past the other browsing customers, leaving consternation and the occasional New York expletive in her wake, the girl continued on in that same measured pace. It was almost as if she didn't really want to get away at all, Caroline thought, but was simply going through the motions.

She caught up with the girl a few steps short of the door. "Hey, there," she said, taking hold of her wrist. "Where do you think you're going?"

Melantha looked up at her... and Caroline caught her breath. The girl's face was blank, her eyelids drooping as if she was half asleep. Behind the eyelids the pupils were so dilated that the black nearly filled the irises. "I have to go back," she said, her voice low and husky. "It has to be done. I have to go back."

She started to pull away. "Oh, no you don't," Caroline insisted, tightening her grip. "You're not going anywhere without—"

Bring her to me.

Caroline jerked. The voice that had spoken had been like nothing she'd ever heard before. It had felt distant, yet at the same time strangely close, a voice that was completely unfamiliar yet carried the sense that she'd known the speaker all her life.

And it hadn't spoken in her ears, but in her mind.

Bring her to me, the voice continued. Open the door and bring the Peace Child to me.

Caroline frowned. Open the door? But the shop's door was already open. "Who are you?" she whispered. "Where are you?"

You must understand that what I do, I do for the best, the voice said. Unlock the door and bring her to me.

The store seemed to waver in front of Caroline's eyes, like pavement on a hot July day. The voice was so persuasive, so insistent, so confident. How could she not obey it? How could she not take Melantha to him?

Melantha. The girl who'd looked up at her with hopeless eyes as she huddled in the cold of a darkened alley. The girl who'd found enough comfort and safety in their living room that for awhile she'd seemed like a normal child before the weight of the world had settled on her shoulders again.

The girl with bruises on her throat where someone had tried to murder her.