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area, but I’m not surprised. Look at the scope of their works and the number of parishes.”
    “Plus all the nuns are jumping ship.”
    She stuck out the tip of her tongue. “Wall. Jumping the wall.”
    “You are such an English teacher.”
    “Besides, what makes you think that any Community would handle these commissions? Nuns aren’t private investigators.”
    Frank’s expression was the picture of ingenuous. “Come on. Nuns are all-powerful and all-knowing. Like all the nuns who taught me in high school.”
    The phone rang. Sidney ducked under the open file-cabinet drawer to answer it.
    “Perhaps I should’ve kept one of the habits from the Motherhouse undercover job. It seems to be the only symbol you respect.”
    “Not true.” Frank ticked points off on his fingers. “I respect the Steelers’ defensive line, the power of Jameson, Manchester United’s keeper, and the prompt person who cuts the checks for the Church. DI’s account balance is a joy to behold.”
    “Sidney and I will expect fat Christmas bonuses, then.” As Sidney hung up the phone, Giulia added, “Right, Sidney?”
    “What?”
    “Just say yes.”
    “Um, yes?”
    Frank made head-clawing motions. “You two will bankrupt me.”
    “If you want to retain good employees, you have to give them proper incentive.”
    Sidney looked from Giulia to Frank, worry lines forming between her eyes. “Um, Mr. D., that was Captain Reilly.”
    “Sidney, don’t listen to Giulia, she’s just trying to apply that famous Catholic guilt. What’s the message?”
    “He says please come back to his office. He’ll buy lunch.”
    “Crap.”
    Giulia said,” What’s wrong with that?”
    “He wants to soften me up. Lunch is his favorite weapon.”
    “Maybe he’s going to give me another opportunity to pour hot coffee on Poole.” Giulia stood and headed for the coat rack. “It’s Tuesday. It’s nearly noon. The window for getting Katie back is closing fast. I’m willing to discuss anything that may help.”

seven
    “I went with the safe choice,” Jimmy said as he ripped open a large white paper bag. “Isaly’s chipped ham, lettuce, tomato, brown mustard, no pickles.”
    “God be praised,” Frank said, unwrapping a foot-long sub.
    “What do you have against pickles?” Giulia folded her sub wrapper into a neat rectangular placemat without disturbing the actual sandwich.
    “How do you do that?” Frank studied Giulia’s paper and shook his head, unscrewing the top of his Coke bottle. “Pickles are zombie cucumbers: green, droopy, and excreting unspecified innards. I only eat clean kills.”
    Giulia laughed. “Next Halloween I may dress up as a zombie pickle, just to see the look on your face.” She smiled at Jimmy. “Thank you for lunch. This smells heavenly.”
    “Nothing says brain food like a hot chipped-ham sub. We’re gonna need it.” He clicked his mouse with his right hand and took a bite from the sandwich in his left. “I got Davis away from Poole, and we combed through their report and the documents your friend sent me. Assuming that the three kidnappings are connected, we’re looking at the same person—or people—running a kidnapping ring. If not, we’re looking at a mighty long coincidence.”
    Giulia set down her own Coke. “Of course they have to be the same person.”
    “Not necessarily. Black-market baby rings are more prevalent than you want to know.”
    She shuddered. “But isn’t it obvious that in these three cases the kidnappers deliberately targeted adoptees of gays?”
    Frank said in between bites, “Where’s conclusive proof that gay couples are the only target?”
    Jimmy set down his sub and wiped his hands. “The information your friend has focuses only on two kidnappings, which, granted, have a very similar pattern.”
    “Show me, please. She sent everything to me, but I haven’t been able to study them yet.”
    He handed them a set of printouts and reentered his password to unlock his screen.