“Why they sent those boys into a white neighborhood,” said Sharna, “I’ll never understand. People in Crenshaw read magazines, too.”

“Supposed to be safer,” said her husband.

“Apparently it wasn’t,” she snapped.

He touched her elbow. She shifted away from contact. Ran a hand over the snapshot. “They threw those children in with strangers.”

Milo said, “Did the detectives sixteen years ago canvass the neighborhood where Antoine delivered?”

“They claimed they talked to everyone,” said Sharna. “If they didn’t, are they going to admit it?”

She folded her arms across her chest.

Milo said, “What was the name of the company that hired Antoine?”

Sharna said, “Youth In Action. They closed down after Antoine disappeared. At least in L.A.”

“Because of Antoine’s disappearance?”

“After Antoine, the schools wouldn’t let them advertise. I went to the library, used a computer to look them up, couldn’t find any mention of them. Did that yesterday, when I found out we were coming here. The only person I remember was a Mr. Zint, called to tell me how sorry he was. Sounded to me like he was worried we were going to sue him. Didn’t know anything helpful.”

I said, “Antoine worked with two friends.”

“Will and Bradley,” she said. “Wilson Good and Bradley Maisonette. Friends since kindergarten. They helped carry the coffin and cried like babies. Said Antoine was selling the most.” Reluctant smile. “Antoine had a way of talking you into anything.”

Milo wrote down the names.

Sharna Beverly picked up the photo and held it to her breast. Her fingers covered the top of Antoine’s face. His eternal smile made my eyes ache.

I said, “Did Brad or Will report anything unusual those five days?”

She said, “No, and I asked them. The van dropped them off one by one in Culver City. Antoine got off first and was supposed to be picked up last. When the time came, he wasn’t there. The van waited an hour, then drove around looking for Antoine. Then Mr. Zint took Bradley and Will back to the school, which is where he always picked them up. Then he called the police. Bradley and Will were shook up, Bradley especially. He already lived through a drive-by.”

Gordon said, “Not in our neighborhood. Visiting a cousin in Compton.”

Sharna said, “It was me, I’d go straight to Texas, put hot pokers on that devil, run one of those electrocuting lie detectors they use on the al-Qaidas at Guantánamo. That’d clear it up soon enough.”

She glared at her husband.

He fingered his flag pin.

“Lieutenant,” she said, “do you have any feeling about that story that devil’s telling?”

Milo said, “I wish I did, Mrs. Beverly. The sad truth is these lowlifes lie as easily as they breathe and they’ll do anything to get out of dying.”

“So what’s the plan?”