"A few months ago, Bethany began to act nervously. She'd double check all the locks every time she passed them, closed the drapes whenever I opened them. Instead of jogging in the park in the morning or the evening, she started going to the gym on her lunch hour."

"Did she start bringing in the mail, and insist on answering the phone?"

"I see you can tell where this is leading."

Milda nodded. "Fairly typical pattern. She's being stalked, right?"

Stephanie sighed. "I don't know how I could have been so oblivious. It's obvious... now. But I didn't figure it out till after she'd moved out into her own place. That was two weeks ago. I came home from work and found her gone. There was a note on her bed."

Miss Bradshaw removed a folded sheet of stationery and handed it over. Milda opened it. A span of beach, in soft focus, decorated the top, with sea shells spilling down one side. The handwriting, in felt tip pen, was careful and rounded, in neat lines. 'Steph, Please forgive me for doing it this way. You would have insisted on knowing where I am going, and I can’t risk endangering you. I’ll be in touch. Love, Bethany.'

“She’d been planning this awhile.” Milda handed back the page. "Unless she's absolutely cold blooded. She took pains when she wrote that, choosing her words to tell enough, but not too much. No sign of haste or carelessness. She must care very much about pleasing you."

"She always pleased me, just by existing. But yes, she's very thoughtful. That's how I know she must be really frightened, she knew how much this would upset me."

"I might not have figured out what was going on if these hadn't come in the mail last week." She handed over three envelopes. They all bore the same street address, but two were designated for Bethany Pierce, and one to Stephanie Bradshaw. They were all sympathy cards. 'On the Death of Your Parents' said one. No return address, no signature. The second one offered 'Condolences for the Loss of Your Loved One.' Again no return address or signature, but a carefully block printed message inside said, "Shame about your aunt."

The one addressed to Stephanie was equally bare of information, but much more personalized. Inside 'God Called Her Home' was a note in the same generic printing. 'Little early for this one. I hope you kissed her good-bye, bitch.'

"I took it straight to the police, of course."

Milda blew air between compressed lips, making a raspberry sound. "And they told you there wasn't anything they could do. There had been no real threat. She'd made no complaint. She was a grown woman, it looked like she'd just decided to break out on her own, and you should just wait, she'd probably be in touch. Maybe she was shacked up somewhere with a guy."

"One of them told me," said Stephanie sourly, "That she was going to resent me for trying to interfere in her love life."

"As Acacia says, it's hard for some of them to see past their belt buckles."

"Your sister sounds a bit cynical about men."

"That's like saying Hitler found Jews a bit annoying. Naresha agrees with the shortsightedness, but claims that some of them are able to see as far as her backside, anyway. Men amuse Naresha. It's just how the cops operate. Since there's no indication that Bethany was forced or coerced, they're not interested."

Stephanie's hand trembled as she took another sip of tea. "She's in danger, " she said flatly. "One of the detective's suggested that the cards were just a nasty prank. The people who do things like that get their jollies from imagining how frightened their receivers are, and almost never actually do anything. I told him that the operative word was 'almost'. Could he promise never? So, I filed a missing persons report."

"What that means is that if they find an unidentified body matching her general description, they'll call you. Since she's an adult, and there's no evidence of kidnaping or assault, they're not going to expend a lot of time and money on this." Milda said gently. "The next step for most people involved in this sort of situation is to hire a private investigator. We are not licensed investigators, Stephanie. We don't advertise as such, we don't advertise at all. People find us through various means. How did you find us?"

"I have a friend, Lorraine..."

"Oh, Mrs. Boudreaux. How is her little girl, Michelle?"

Stephanie smiled. "She calls herself Nikki now, and she's doing fine. She hated having to cut off her braids, but her mom gave her a permanent, and she loves her curls."

"Yes, it was a shame to have to do that. Her hair was so beautiful and long. But she needed a drastic appearance change." Temporary custody of Nikki, nee` Michelle, .had been awarded to her father after a nasty custody battle, despite the fact that she desperately wanted to be with her mother, and there were suspicions about her father's relationship with her.

Lorraine Boudreaux had worked for Naresha as a plain seamstress, basting together test models of her fashion creations. Naresha had noticed how troubled she was, and cornered her, demanding to know what was wrong. The upshot was that Milda had met with Michelle and spoken to her privately.

She'd come out of the interview grim faced, and the sisters agreed unanimously that the courts were not to be trusted to pursue this matter. On her next weekend visit, Lorraine and Michelle Boudreaux had simply vanished. Linda and Nikki Broussard moved into a small house several states away. Linda had a job in a Three Sisters factory, and Nikki settled into school. Both had ID, school, doctor, and work records more complete and detailed than most families.

Andrew Boudreaux had nagged the police and ranted at his lawyer, but not a trace of the runaways could be found. Then Andrew informed his lawyer that he had a tip that they had gone to a family cabin in an isolated stretch of woods, and he was going to get his daughter. No, he wouldn't inform the police and let them deal with it. No, he wouldn't wait for his lawyer to accompany him.

The next day there had been an item on the second page of the news telling how one Andrew Boudreax had died in the first known mountain lion attack to have happened in over one hundred years. His body was found at his cabin, and glimpses were caught of the escaping big cat. It would be hunted down, captured, and relocated. But somehow the cat's trail was lost, and it was never found. Tourists were cautioned for the rest of the season.

"So you understand that we operate outside the establishment?"

"The establishment hasn't done me much good in this case."

"I just want you to be clear. If we decide to take your problem on, it may involve some things that are not strictly legal." Her smile was wry. "In fact, our problem solving often involves things that are not by any stretch of the imagination even remotely legal. But we get the job done."

"That's fine with me. If it means Bethany's safe, I'm willing to go to prison." She paused, then said bluntly, "I'm willing for you to go to prison, too."

Milda nodded, as if this were perfectly reasonable and acceptable. "There are a couple more conditions that may not be fine with you. You might want to consider them before I take your problem to my sisters."

"I don't have much money now, but I have a couple of bonds, and I can set aside part of my salary..." Milda was waving at her to stop.

"Money is the least of our worries. You'll pay whatever you can afford. These are much more important and complicated than finances. First, you don't question our methods. In fact, you don't question. We may tell you what's going on, but don't expect a detailed report, and there are a lot of things you'll be better off not knowing."

"Second, if we tell you to do something, do it. Immediately and exactly, with no questions or protests. We involve our clients as little as possible in what we do, but sometimes we can't avoid drawing them in. If it's important enough for us to give you direct orders about it, it's VERY important. Last, and I want you to think very carefully about this... You can't call it off once it's been set in motion."

Stephanie thought about this. Milda was watching her gravely, any trace of silliness gone. What did she mean, it can't be called off? Why would she try to stop their investigation before Bethany was safe?

Then she thought, who's definition of safe? The police's, mine... or their's? Even if they caught the man frightening Bethany, what would come of it? As far as she knew, the most he could be charged with so far was terroristic threats. He might not even get jail time, if he had a clean record. The law worked with someone who had no evil intentions, regretted what he'd done, and had no intention of trespassing again. It didn't do much good with the ones who only regretted being caught.

With the Boudreaux's, the judge had said that there was no evidence that Andrew was physically hurting Michelle. He'd made a favorable impression on everyone, and Michelle had been hesitant and confused in the two sessions she'd spent with the child therapist. It was decided that her mother was unduly influencing her, and the father couldn't be punished with the loss of his daughter just because he MIGHT be molesting her. If Lorraine and her daughter had been caught, the girl would have gone back to her father, while her mother went to jail.

But since Andrew had been mauled to death, there was a good chance that the interest in the two escapees would taper off. If they surfaced later, Michelle might have to spend some time in a foster home, but in all likelihood final custody would be awarded to her mother, since no absolute decision had been reached in their case. Andrew's death had been very convenient.

Stephanie looked at Milda. Milda looked back, poker faced, utterly silent. Stephanie understood now. That look said, "Be sure. No backing out. If we take this on, we finish it, with or without your help and approval."

Speaking carefully, Stephanie said, "I believe whoever did this is a danger to Bethany, and possibly myself. I believe it's connected with the death of her parents, despite how outlandish the police think that is. If you catch this person, I want you to do whatever you think is most effective. I won't try to back out."

"Good. I'll present this to my sisters, and we'll get back to you, one way or the other. I'll tell you right now that you have my vote."

Stephanie felt some relief. It was good to have someone taking her fears seriously. "Thank you."

"De nada. I still have to get approval from Naresha and Acacia. It's unanimous, or it don't fly around here, but I think you have a good chance. Let me call a cab to take you home."

"Oh, it won't work. I couldn't get one to bring me. They won't come to this section of town after dark."

"This one will." She finished dialing an old fashioned black rotary phone. "Hello, Penny? Yeah, it's me. I need a pickup at our place. Thanks."

She hung up as Stephanie shook her head in amazement "But I offered to pay extra, and he insisted on dropping me off blocks away. And you didn't even give them the address."

"Didn't have to. We own the company, they know where we are."