An hour later, my fax machine spews out a letter. It's from the FBI field office in San Jose. A twelve-year-old girl is missing, last seen hiking in the hills above Los Gatos. A man in a pickup was observed cruising the area. The witness, another child, seems shaky. Will I come down, interview her, try to produce a sketch of the driver?
I'll come right away, of course… prepared, too, to believe everything the ‘shaky’ witness has to tell me.
7:00 a.m.
Driving south, I pick up my cell phone, punch out a number in L.A.
Pam answers, voice groggy.
I know it's early. Sorry I woke you, I tell her. To say I've been missing you is why I called. You said it yourself – that I wouldn't know how much till I got back home. Well, this is my eighth day back, and now I think I know.
