“Material recovered from the stove in that house included fragments of bone from a newborn baby.” My words seemed to catch him off guard. I heard a sharp intake of breath, and noticed his chin cock up a fraction.

“Tamela only seventeen. She a good girl.”

“Yes, sir.”

“She weren’t with child.”

“Yes, sir, she was.”

“Who say that?”

“We have that information from more than one source.”Slidel .

Banks considered a moment. Then, “Why you go looking in someone’s stove?”

“An informant stated that an infant had been burned at that address. We investigate such reports.” Slidel didn’t point out that the tip came fromHarrison “Sonny” Pounder, a street-corner dopeman bargaining for favor after his recent bust.

“Who say that?”

“That’s not important.” Irritation sharpenedSlidel ’s tone. “We need to know Tamela’s whereabouts.” Banks pushed to his feet and shuffled to the nearest bookshelf. Easing back into the recliner, he handed me a photo.

I looked at the girl in the picture, acutely conscious of Banks’s eyes on my face. And of his second oldest looming in the archway.

Tamela wore a short-skirted gold jumper with a blackWon the front panel. She sat with one knee bent, one leg straight out behind her, hands on her hips, surrounded by a circle of gold and white pom-poms. Her smile was enormous, her eyes bright with happiness. Two barrettes sparkled in her short, curly hair.

“Your daughter was a cheerleader,” I said.

“Yes’m.”

“My daughter tried cheerleading when she was seven,” I said. “Pop Warner footbal , for the little kids. Decided she preferred playing on the team to cheering.”

“They al have their own mine, I guess.”

“Yes, sir. They do.”

Banks handed me a second photo, this one a Polaroid.

“That Mr. Darryl Tyree,” Banks said.

Tamela stood beside a tal , thin man wearing gold chains around his neck and a black do-rag on his head. One spidery arm was draped over Tamela’s shoulders. Though the girl was smiling, the fire was gone from her eyes. Her face looked drawn, her whole body tense.

I handed the photos back.

“Do you know where Tamela is, Mr. Banks?” I asked softly.

“Tamela a grown girl now. She say I can’t axe.”

Silence.

“If we can just talk to her, perhaps there’s an explanation for al this.”

More silence, longer this time.

“Are you acquainted with Mr. Tyree?”Slidel asked.

“Tamela gonna finish high school, same’s Reggie, ’n’ Harley, ’n’ Jonah, ’n’ Sammy. Din’t have no problem with drugs or boys.” We let that hang a moment. When Banks didn’t continueSlidel prodded.

“And then?”

“Then Darryl Tyree come along.” Banks practical y spit the name, the first sign of anger I’d seen. “’Fore long she forget her books, spend al her time moonin’ over Tyree, worryin’ when he gonna show up.”

Banks looked fromSlidel to me.