"That's yet to be determined." Devereaux set one file aside and picked up another. "We had all pertinent information faxed in after your call. A federal investigator has already interviewed your witness at the… Dunes Motel in Utah." He pushed his glasses up again. "He positively identified David Merrick's picture. We're working on IDing the woman."

"Then why are we sitting here?"

Devereaux peered over the rims of his glasses, which had already slid down his nose again. "Do you expect us to knock on every door in Forest Park and ask if they've recently stolen a baby?" Anticipating her, he held up a pudgy finger. "We have data coming in right now on male children between the ages of six and nine months. Adoption records, birth certificates. We're looking into who has moved into the area, with a child, within the last three months. I have no doubt that by morning we'll have narrowed it down to a manageable few."

"Morning? Listen, Devereaux, we've just spent the best part of twenty-four hours getting here. Now you're going to tell us to wait until morning?"

Devereaux leveled a look at Mel. "Yes. If you give us the name of your hotel, we'll contact you with any further developments."

Mel popped out of her chair. "I know David. I can identify him. If I did a sweep of the area, set up some surveillance—"

Devereaux cut her off. "This is a federal case. We may very well want you to identify the boy. However, we have copies of his prints to substantiate." While Mel bit her tongue, Devereaux shifted his gaze from her to Sebastian. "I'm moving on this under the advice of Special Agent Tucker in Chicago—who I've known for more than twenty years. Because he puts some stock in this psychic business, and because I have a grandson about David's age, I'm not going to advise the two of you to go back to California and leave this alone."

"We appreciate your help, Agent Devereaux." Sebastian rose and took Mel by the elbow, squeezing hard before she could hurl whatever insult was in her mind. "I've made reservations at the Doubletree. We'll wait for your call."

Satisfied, Devereaux stood and offered a hand.

"I should have spit in it," Mel grumbled a few moments later when they walked out into the torrid Atlanta evening. "The Feebies always treat PIs like mongrel dogs."

"He'll do his job."

"Right." She was distracted enough to let him open the door of the car they'd rented at the airport. "Because some pal of his took a shine to you in Chicago. What did you do up there, anyway?"

"Not enough." Sebastian shut her door and rounded the hood. "I don't suppose you feel like a quiet drink in the hotel bar and a leisurely dinner."

"Not on your life." She snapped her seat belt into place. "I need a pair of binoculars. Must be a sporting goods store around here someplace."

"I imagine I could find one."

"A long-range camera," she said to herself, pushing up the sleeves of her borrowed shirt. "A federal case," she muttered. "Well there's no law that says I can't take a nice drive through the 'burbs, is there?"

"I don't believe there is," Sebastian said as he pulled into traffic. "Perhaps a walk, as well. Nothing quite like a walk in a nice neighborhood on a summer evening."

She turned her head to beam a smile at him. "You're all right, Donovan."

"That kind of flattery will last me a lifetime."

"Can you—?" Mel bit her lip and swallowed the question as they drove slowly down the tree-lined streets of Forest Park.

"Can I tell which house?" Sebastian finished for her. "Oh, eventually."

"How—?" She cut that thought off, as well, and lifted the binoculars.

"How does it work?" He smiled and turned left, in what appeared to Mel to be an unstudied decision. "That's a bit complicated to explain. Perhaps sometime, if you're still interested, I'll try."

When he pulled over to the curb and stopped, she frowned. "What are you doing?"

"They often walk him here after dinner."

"What?"

"They like to take him out in the stroller after dinner, before his bath."

Before she realized what she meant to do, Mel reached out, put a hand on his cheek to turn his face to hers. She blinked once, stunned by the flash of power in his eyes. How dark they were, she thought. Nearly black. When she managed to speak, her voice was barely a whisper.

"Where is he?"

"In the house across the street. The one with the blue shutters and the big tree in the front yard." He grabbed her wrist before she could reach for the doorhandle. "No."

"If he's in there, I'm going in and getting him. Damn it, let go of me."

"Think." Because he understood that she would feel long before she would think, he pressed her back against the seat with both hands on her shoulders. No easy task, he thought grimly. She might be as slim as a wand, but she was strong. "Hellfire, Mel, listen to me. He's safe. David's safe. You'll only complicate and confuse things by bursting in there and trying to take him from them."

Her eyes blazed as she strained against him. He thought she looked like a goddess, ready to fling lightning from her fingertips. "They stole him."

"No. No, they didn't. They don't know he was stolen. They think he was given away, or they've convinced themselves he was because they were desperate for a child. Haven't you ever been desperate enough to take a shortcut, to overlook that blurred line and grab what you wanted?"

Furious, she could only shake her head. "He's not their child."

"No." His voice gentled, as did his hold. "But for three months he has been. He's Eric to them, and they love him very much. Enough to pretend he was meant to be theirs."

She struggled to control her breathing. "How can you ask me to leave him with them?"

"Only for a little while longer." He stroked a hand over her cheek. "I swear Rose will have him back before tomorrow night."

She swallowed, nodded. "Let go of me." When he did, she picked up the binoculars with unsteady hands. "You were right to stop me. It's important to be sure."

She focused on the wide bay window, seeing pastel walls through gauzy curtains. She saw a baby swing, and a maroon couch with a clutter of toys scattered over it. With her lips pressed together, Mel watched a woman walk into view. A trim brunette in walking shorts and a cotton blouse. The woman's hair swung prettily as she turned her head to laugh at someone out of sight.