The last time she'd talked to him had been to see if she could borrow his notes after she had to stay home for a day. He'd had to write them up for her, because he could barely even read his own handwriting on the originals, and he'd been drawing stuff all along the edges. Nothing dirty, just things he didn't want anyone to see.

These days he always made a copy of his notes, just in case. Funny thing about that: His grades had gotten way better ever since he had decided to make copies. If there was a connection, he refused to see it.

"It's rather late to be out by yourself, don't you think?" The voice belonged to a stranger, and Avery froze in his tracks. He looked around and saw the man a moment later, but he almost had to strain to make him out.

Dark black clothes hid most of his body, and heavy shadows obscured a good part of his face. But he was smiling pleasantly enough.

"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers." It was a good line to use when he was nervous. The man made him want to run screaming.

"Yes. I think maybe you're not supposed to be out walking alone this time of night, either."

Okay. The guy had him dead to rights on that one.

The stranger held out one hand and Avery watched as two of the crows on the phone lines above his head lowered like leaves in a graceful fall, to settle on the man's opened palm and forearm. "Where are you going so late in the evening, my young friend?"

"Whoa! How did you do that?" Avery forgot himself and talked far louder than he meant to, the excitement of watching the crows taking away his fear of being busted.

"They're friendly birds when you know how to talk to them. Would you like to hold one?"

"Can I?" He walked forward and held out his hand, reaching eagerly.

"Carefully. They are easily startled. They must come to you; you must not come to them."

Avery nodded and stopped, holding his hand like he'd seen the man do before. "What makes them so nervous?"

"Look at yourself. You are as big as twenty of them. How would you feel if a giant reached out to grab you without warning?" The man's eyes looked into his, amusement emphasizing the light crow's feet around the dark pupils. Then he moved his hand closer to Avery's and the crow bobbed its head three times before walking sullenly over to stand on Avery's palm. The feet were cold and black; he felt the pinpoints of the claws where they pinched his hand.

Avery stared, amazed by the bird now in his hand. The crow craned its head around and looked at him with one glossy black eye.

"Can I keep him, mister?"

The man laughed lightly and shook his head. "He is not to be kept, my friend. He is too wild for that. He must live his own life or he will never be happy."

Avery understood the concept, but wasn't thrilled by the news. He would have loved having a crow as a pet. How cool would that be?

The stranger lifted his hand and the crow that had been perched there flew into the air, powerful wings lifting it back to the perch it had previously abandoned. The bird in Avery's hand fidgeted a bit and danced from foot to foot for a moment. Then it took off, the wings almost striking his face before it was airborne.

Avery turned to thank the man who'd shown him the crows, but when he looked, there was no sign that he had ever been there. He frowned, and was about to call out when the hands caught him around the throat and lifted him from the ground.

Avery couldn't scream, couldn't breathe, and his feet kicked at the man again and again, but seemed to have absolutely no impact.

"Shhh . . . Avery Tripp. You and the crows will be good friends, I think."

The world faded away, lost in a darkness that was filled with the rustle of black feathers.

IV.

"Have you ever seen so many birds?" Ben looked around the car in wonder, a smile playing at his lips. He was a great big kid in a lot of ways.

Maggie stood nearby, holding the last of the boxes. He took it from her and set it next to the car, then reached into a box he had brought with him. Aside from the gloves both of them wore, the box also held a small meter of some kind.

"What's that?" She sounded amused, and he was glad she was having fun.

"This is an electromagnetic emanation detector." He put on a deep scholarly voice for her.

"A what?" She was smiling and looking at him with those amazing eyes.

"It checks for radio waves and other stuff."

"What? You think he bugged you?"

He looked right back at her, his smile fading a bit. "I would. If someone was screwing with me this way, I most certainly would."

"You really think so?" He couldn't tell if she was thinking about it or doubting his sanity.

"I've made threats against him. He's a cop. And he's not a very nice cop. I don't want to take any chances." He shrugged, trying to tell himself it didn't matter if she thought he was loony.

"See? That's smart. I wouldn't have thought about it."

He turned on the meter and ran it carefully over each of the boxes. The first two were clean. The third gave off a signal. He found the source and pulled a small transmitter out of the edge, frowning at it. Not a lot of range, but it would do if the man using it was careful.

"Bastard," he was laughing as he said it.

"You're not upset?"

"No. It's like chess. Only he doesn't know all the rules."

"Yeah? Like what?" She moved closer, and he showed her the small tracking device.

"Like I don't play nicely." He moved the device over to a different part of the parking area, placing it into a knothole in one of the trees.

"Should I call him now? Or make him wait?"

"Oh, no." She shook her head, actually looking indignant. "Call his ass and break his balls." He blinked and smiled. He wasn't used to her using vulgarity. Then again, he wasn't used to her. It was nice new territory to explore.

"Okay. You win."

He picked up the phone he'd been using earlier and dialed the number for the man's house again.

The phone rang seven times before Brian Freemont answered. He didn't sound at all happy about the interruption.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Officer Freemont. I found your tracking device. Now you get to wait at least one more day before I give you back your life. Don't write any checks."

He turned off the phone and put it back into his pocket.

Maggie was smiling at him, her eyes alight with amusement. "You're a very bad man, Ben. Very bad."

"Yeah, well, I have my moments."

They left the boxes behind, taking only the evidence packages that they held.

All the way back to the apartments, Maggie kept giving him the strangest looks. He didn't know why, but he rather liked it.

V.

Tom Pardue was high on life. He always got that way when he knew he was going to have a good time with someone. Right now he was going to have a party all over Maggie Preston. She was a fine-looking girl, she really was, but she'd been playing games and thinking it wouldn't get back to him.

She was supposed to be handling situations with Lance Brewster, and he'd just gotten another call from a long-term client who was not at all happy with the lack of attention he was getting. That wasn't acceptable. She knew the score: He let her think she was something special. He made sure she got the nonviolent johns who weren't too freaky, because she earned the money. He gave her name to only the best clientele, because she was damned good at her job. She'd told him a few things back in the day about being double-jointed and a gymnast. Until she'd proved to him how much difference that could make, he could have cared less. She could also do things with her mouth to make a man cry. She could unhinge her jaw, for God's sake! On the day he decided to give her a test session, she'd swallowed him whole and then kept him at the edge of orgasm for over an hour. Maggie could tease mercilessly and have a man begging for release. That was why she was so popular. She could also get into the most incredible positions he'd ever experienced. But that didn't mean she was in charge of her own destiny or any of that other shit she liked to spew from time to time. In the long run she was just another piece of ass, and she was his to do with as he pleased. She was a hooker who had a few special talents; it didn't make her the queen of the universe, it just made her a good commodity. If she wanted to believe she was something more than that, he could correct her ideas.

Maybe it was time to stop being so nice about how he treated her. Maybe if he gave her a few sessions like he'd given Lizzie earlier, she'd remember who was in charge of her fucking destiny.

So he was waiting around for her to show her little ass at her little apartment. Then, if she got bitchy, he was going to explain everything nicely, exactly one more time. If it was twice, he'd break her in half.

That was before she came into the courtyard of her place with some little yuppie fuck, carrying a bunch of white bags and laughing like she didn't have a care in the whole world.

Seeing her and her boyfriend just made the whole of his day better. She hadn't been producing as well as she should for almost a week, and now he knew why.

Maggie was laughing, her head thrown back at something the college boy had said.

Being a good sport, Tom walked out from his hiding place and smiled.

"Hey, Maggie." He smiled and watched her jump as the bags in her hands fell all over the ground.

"Tom . . ." Her sweet, lovely, sexy-as-all-hell face grew ghostly white, prompting a bigger grin on Tom. He sauntered over as casual as he could, and rocked back on his heels for a second.

"That's me. Tom." He looked over at the college boy. He was in decent shape for a loser, but probably wouldn't last more than three punches. "Who's your friend?"

"Ben, this is Tom. Tom, this is Ben. We have a class together." She was good, keeping it calmer than he'd expected. It made sense, the kid being a study buddy, because Tom couldn't imagine his pet whore would want to get her face shattered for a limp-wristed little piece like the one she was hanging with.

The kid set down his packages as carefully as he could and held out a hand. Almost amused by the idea, he took the offering and shook hands like a real gentleman.

"Nice to meet you, Tom." The kid's face was neutral. That was good. He didn't want to have the boy feeling like they were going to be friends or anything.

"Likewise," he said with absolutely no concern whatsoever if the loser noticed it was a lie.

"What can I do for you, Tom?"

"There's a little problem with Brewster, my puppy." He looked into her eyes and saw the minor flash of gratitude that went along with the tightening of her jaw. He could have ousted her and it wouldn't have mattered all that much, but if he pissed her off over the little shit, she'd forget to be grateful when the time came.

"What's wrong with him?"

"He misses you. He just wanted me to say hi; maybe later you could give him a visit?"

Maggie looked at him through half-lidded eyes. She had a great bitch stare. It would have worked on most guys. Tom wasn't like most guys. He knew the score and sometimes he had to remind the girls. They didn't remind him.

"Maybe," she shrugged. It always did the nicest things to her tits. "Has he learned not to bite yet?"

"Disciplining puppies is so hard, Maggie." He pouted and put on his best puppy dog face. Even he knew it wasn't a pretty sight, but he did it anyway. "But he wanted me to tell you he's really sorry and it won't happen again."

Maggie looked him up and down with an almost insolent stare that was going to cost her dearly if she didn't satisfy Brewster's needs. "Yeah, okay. I'll stop by and see him."

"Thanks, sweetheart. I know you just made his whole day better." He looked over at Ben and winked. "You think she's gonna make it tonight, Ben? Or are you keeping her busy?"

He looked surprised by the comment. "Oh, no. She was just helping me pick up some stuff for the forensics class I'm taking." He gestured at the small mountain of white bags.

"Fake evidence folders, cute."

"Professor Holmes likes his authentic touches." Ben was looking at him now, too, with a funny expression on his face. Tom decided he'd have to check later to see if he had been insulted.

"Well, you guys have fun now." He turned and headed back to his car. Brewster would be happy and he would pay top dollar. That made Tom happy. Maggie was off the hook, for now. She'd get bitchy sooner or later, and he'd put her back in her place again. He loved teaching Maggie lessons. He shot his best smile at Ben and then winked playfully at Maggie. "But not too much fun, you hear?"

Neither of them said anything as he left. That was good. He liked to get in the last word.

Chapter 6.

I.

Alan and Meghan Tripp were beside themselves when the sun rose on their son's empty bedroom. He had been in bed by nine; they knew that, because they'd tucked him in together. He was a good kid and even though he was getting older, he still tolerated their doting on him.

Now he was gone.

By the time he should have been getting ready for school, they had torn through every room in the house. By the time he should have been finishing his breakfast, they had called everyone they could think of. No one had seen Avery after they put him into bed.

Meghan was a wreck, pacing and wringing her hands. Avery had been something of an unexpected miracle child, coming as he did after an early partial hysterectomy. There was no chance that they would ever have another child, and even if they did, he would never be able to replace Avery. He was her baby, and she was devastated by his disappearance.

Alan was holding it in better, but he wanted to scream. Instead, he did the only wise thing and called the police. They were there in less than five minutes; no one in Black Stone Bay took child abduction lightly. Not after what had happened with the Whittaker girl back in '87. Carla Whittaker had been stolen from her bedroom in the middle of the night, and at first her parents thought she had run away to get attention. For the first three days, the Whittaker family simply made polite inquiries of her friends and school chums.

Then the phone calls came. An anonymous voice spoke urgently, demanding ransom and secrecy. An hour later, the caller rang them again and almost every hour after that the calls came fast and hard, some time after the fourth day of quiet, polite searching was done. The kidnappers wanted money, of course, and they would not let anyone speak to Carla.

The story did not play out well. After the money was delivered, the phone calls stopped. Pieces of Carla were found along the coast for several months. All of them were fresh when they were located. The last piece they found was her head, which the coroner determined had only been in the water for a few hours when fishermen found it. The case had never been solved.

So, yes, it was fair to say that no one in Black Stone Bay took missing children lightly.

The questions were endless, of course. Did they have a recent picture? Yes, and also video footage. Did they know what he was wearing? The clothes he had worn to school were not in the hamper, so yes, he was wearing a green flannel shirt, blue jeans, and red Reeboks. His jacket was also missing, a dark brown leather bomber jacket that he had requested for his birthday. Did he have any friends in the area? Damned near every child in the school and in the neighborhood; he was a well-liked young man. Did he have any enemies? No. Even Lucien Hawkings liked him, and the old bastard didn't like anyone. Where were they when he disappeared? They didn't know when he vanished, but they were likely in bed. When did they realize he was missing? Five minutes before they called the police. The list went on and on.

By noon there were almost four hundred people searching for Avery Tripp. By four in the afternoon, there were closer to eight hundred. By sunset, a lot of very disappointed people were ready to call it quits.

Alan Tripp was not among them. He wandered the streets until almost two in the morning before he came home and fell into a troubled sleep. In his dreams he heard Avery crying for help, and try though he did, he could not find his son.

When he awoke in the morning, Avery was still missing. He left the house with the dawn and began searching again. There were so many places his son could be; Avery loved to explore. He was never happier than when he was out finding new things.