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she scowled deeper at nothing in particular. Where next? It was Thursday, and she didn't want to be in Astoria when the weekend influx of tourists was due. Every weekend now was like the best weekend of summer, a waitress had informed her happily that morning. That time of year, she had gone on, they usually weren't even open during the winter months, but business was very good, even booming.
    "Thank you, Captain Lewis, Captain Clark," Barbara muttered to herself. Then she stopped walking and stared. Ahead, leaning against her car was Bailey Novell, wearing his dreadful coat that he claimed made him look like a Sherpa guide, and she thought made him look like a yak. A woolen cap was pulled down almost to his eyes. He straightened up and waved.
    "Hiya," he called. "It's freezing out here. Didn't you notice?"
    "What in hell are you doing here?" she demanded, drawing closer.
    "Waiting for you."
    "What's wrong? What happened? Is Dad okay?"
    "Nothing, maybe. I don't know. And yes. Your old man said for me to find you and deliver a message. Too important and personal for e-mail. You know how he is."
    She knew. Frank believed sending an e-mail was like broadcasting to the world, and possibly he was even right about that.
    "What message?"
    "If you don't get yourself back to Eugene before Monday morning at nine, the cops are going to put out an APB on you." He rubbed his hands. "Cold. You don't hide very well, you know. I can give you some pointers."
    "I haven't been hiding," she snapped. "What does that message mean?" Of course, if Frank told him to find her, he would do it, even if she had been trying to hide. Bailey was maybe the best private detective in America, certainly the best on the west coast. He could find a particular grain of sand on the beach if Frank told him to.
    "Don't know what it means more than what it says," he said. "They want you. Accessory to kidnapping, aiding and abetting, miscellaneous criminal activities. It's a two-day drive, foggy down in the valley, unless you run the risk of adding to your criminal activities and get hauled in for speeding or something."
    "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm going to my motel."
    "Me, too. Too cold out here. I'll follow along, maybe get a room nearby."
    "Bailey, for God's sake, you're not going to shadow me!"
    "I got my orders."
    He followed her all the way to Salem, where a dense fog made her stop and find a motel. He was there again Saturday morning, and stayed behind her all the way to Eugene. When she entered her apartment early Saturday afternoon, his old green Dodge, as disreputable looking as he was, made a U-turn and drove away.
    Her apartment was cold and damp. She lingered only long enough to turn up the heat, then headed for her father's house.
    When Frank opened his door, he simply embraced her and held her for a moment, then stepped back and closed the door. Both cats wound in and about her feet as if in greeting.
    "Let me take your jacket," Frank said. "Go sit down." He had made a fire, and there was the coffee carafe and cups on a low table. She suspected that Bailey had called in to say mission accomplished. She waited until they were both seated near the fire, coffee had been poured and the cats had each found a lap.
    "What was that message all about?" she finally asked.
    "I was hoping you'd tell me," he said. "State police are looking for you. Material witness."
    "To what, for heaven's sake?"
    Frank shrugged. "Seems you got involved with a woman who is being accused of kidnapping a child."
    She gave him an incredulous look. "They're out of their minds." But even as she said it, she was thinking of the woman who had been attacked at the cabin just a week before. "For God's sake!" She told him about it. "If that little boy had been kid-napped, I'll sprout wings and take to the air. He was terrified because she was hurt and bleeding. He couldn't wait to get under the blanket with her and be held by her. He called her Mama."
    "Family abductions are