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anything to do about it.”
    “But it bothers you.”
    “Sure, it bothers me. But I’m used to that too. The world is full of people I can’t save. I get used to that. I got used to it on the cops. Any cop does. You have to or you go down the tube too.”
    “I know,” Susan said.
    “On the other hand I may see the kid again.”
    “Professionally?”
    “Yeah. The old man will take him again. She’ll try to get him back. They’re too stupid and too lousy to let this go. I wouldn’t be surprised if she called me again.”
    “You’d be smart to say no if she does. You won’t feel any better by getting into it again.”
    “I know,” I said.
    We were quiet. I turned off of Route 128 at the Smithfield Center exit and drove to Susan’s house.
    “I’ve got a bottle of new Beaujolais,” Susan said in the kitchen. “How about I make us a couple of cheeseburgers and we can eat them and drink the Beaujolais?”
    “Will you toast my hamburger roll?” I said.
    “I certainly will,” Susan said. “And who knows, maybe later I’ll light your fire too, big fella.”
    “Oh, honeylips,” I said. “You really know how to talk to a guy.”
    She handed me the bottle of wine. “You know where the corkscrew is,” she said. “Open it and let it breathe a little, while I do the cheeseburgers.”
    I did.

CHAPTER 7
    Patty Giacomin called me in April on a Tuesday afternoon at four o’clock. I hadn’t heard from her in three months.
    “Could you come to the house right now” she said.
    I had been sitting in my office with my feet up on the desk and the window open sniffing the spring air and reading
A Distant Mirror
by Barbara Tuchman. I kept my finger in my place while I talked on the phone.
    “I’m fairly busy” I said.
    “You have to come,” she said. “Please.”
    “Your husband got the kid again?”
    “No. He’s not my husband anymore. No. But Paul was almost hurt. Please, they might come back. Please, come now.”
    “You in danger?”
    “No. I don’t know. Maybe. You’ve got to come.”
    “Okay,” I said. “If there’s any danger, call the cops. I’ll be there in half an hour.”
    I hung up and put my book down and headed for Lexington.
    When I got there Patty Giacomin was standing in the front doorway looking out. She had on a white headband and a green silk shirt, a beige plaid skirt and tan Frye boots. Around her waist was a widebrown belt and her lipstick was glossy and nearly brown. Probably just got through scrubbing the tub.
    I said, “The kid okay?”
    She nodded. “Come in,” she said. “Thank you for coming.”
    We went into the hall and up the three steps to the living room. Outside the picture window at the far end of the living room things were beginning to bloom.
    “Would you like a drink?” she said.
    “Same as last time,” I said. “I’ll take a beer if you have one.”
    She went to the kitchen and brought me back a can of Budweiser and a beer mug.
    “I don’t need the mug,” I said. “I’d just as soon drink from the can.”
    Somewhere in the house there was a television set playing. It meant Paul was probably in residence.
    Patty poured herself a glass of sherry. “Sit down,” she said.
    I sat on the couch. She sat across from me in an armchair and arranged her legs. I looked at her knees. She sipped her sherry. I drank some beer.
    She said, “Was the traffic bad?”
    I said, “Mrs. Giacomin, I galloped out here to your rescue. Don’t sit around and talk at me about traffic conditions.”
    “I’m sorry. It’s just that, well, now that you’re here, I feel a little foolish. Maybe I overreacted.” She sipped some more of her sherry. “But, dammit, someone did try to take Paul again.”
    “Your husband?”
    “It wasn’t him, but I’m sure he was behind it.”
    “What happened?”
    “A strange man stopped Paul on his way homefrom school and told him that his father wanted to see him. Paul wouldn’t go with him, so the man got out of the car and