bits of evidence against him. He’d been in the neighborhood the night of the murder; he’d stopped to see if he could get some money from his father. His father had given him thirty dollars, and Child had spent some of it at a Subway, on a sandwich, and had been recognized there by a former schoolmate.

He knew the Toms house. He was driving a van, and a van had been seen circling the block. He had cuts on his face and one arm, which he said he got from a fall, but which might have been defensive cuts received as he strangled Toms. On the other hand, Toms had no skin under his fingernails—there’d been no foreign DNA at all.

Child had what the police called a history of violence, but he’d never been arrested for it—as far as Lucas could tell, he’d had a number of fights with another street person near the room where he lived, and Child had said that the other bum had started the fights: “He’s a crazy, I never started anything.”

But it had been the lack of any denial that had hung him up.

At the sentencing, he made a little speech apologizing to the victim’s family, but still maintained that he couldn’t remember the crime.

The judge, who must have been running for reelection, if they reelected judges in Iowa, said in a sentencing statement that he rejected Child’s memory loss, believed that he did remember, and condemned him as a coward for not admitting it. Child got life.

CAROL STUCK her head in, said, “I forgot to tell you, Weather got done early and she was heading home. She wants to take the kids out to the Italian place.”

“I’ll call her…”

THE ITALIAN place at six, Weather said; she’d load the kids up, and meet him there. Lucas looked at his watch. Four-twenty. He could get to the Italian place in ten minutes, so he had an hour and a half to read. It’d be quiet. People were headed out of the building, Carol was getting her purse together, checking her face.

He heard the phone ring, and then Carol called, “You got Flowers on one. Flowers the person.”

Lucas picked up: “Yeah.”

“We got another problem.”

“Ah, shit. What is it?” Lucas asked.

“Jesse didn’t come home from school,” Flowers said.

“What?”

“Didn’t come home. She left school on time, Kathy checked with her last class and some friends of hers, they saw her on the street, but she never showed up at home. Kathy might be bullshitting us, but she seems pretty stressed. Conoway doesn’t know whether to be pissed or worried. The grand jury’s been put on hold for a while, but if we don’t find her in the next hour or so, they’re gonna send them home. I’m headed up that way, but it’s gonna take a while. If you’ve got a minute, you could run over to their house…”

“Goddamnit,” Lucas said. “If they’re fucking with us, I’m gonna break that woman’s neck.”

“Hope that’s what it is, but Kathy…I don’t know, Lucas. Didn’t sound like bullshit,” Flowers said. “Of course, it could be something that Jesse thought up on her own. But she was set to go, she seemed ready…”

“I’m on my way,” Lucas said. “Call me when you get close.”

12

KATHY BARTH WAS STANDING in front of her house talking to a uniformed St. Paul cop and a woman in a green turban. Lucas parked at the curb and cut across the small front lawn. They all turned to look at him. Barth called, “Did you find her?” and Lucas knew from the tone of her voice that she wasn’t involved in whatever had happened to her daughter; wherever she’d gone.

“I just heard,” Lucas said. “Virgil Flowers was down at the grand jury, he’s on his way up.” To the cop: “You guys looking?”

The cop shrugged, “Yeah, we’re looking, but she’s only a couple hours late. We don’t usually even look this soon, for a sixteen-year-old.”

“Get everybody looking,” Lucas said. “She was supposed to be talking to a grand jury about now. If there’s a problem, I’ll talk to the chief. We need everybody you can spare.” To Barth: “We need to know what she was wearing…the names of all her friends. I need to talk to her best friend right now.”

The woman in the turban hadn’t said anything, but now spoke to Barth: “Kelly McGuire.”

“I called, but she’s not home yet,” Barth said. Her face was taut with anxiety. She’d seen it all before, on TV, the missing