She turned her attention to the next photograph. Tenth-grade high school shot. Public school. Gone was the somber dress. Hersh was wearing a Def Leppard T-shirt, the short sleeves tight around his developed arms. His face was still lean, but it seemed like an affected look of hunger rather than one created by lack of food. An expression designed to connote toughness.

She asked, “Did Hersh graduate from high school?”

“I haven’t found any record of it,” Decker said.

Marge studied the photograph again. Hersh’s expression. Very scary. Especially the eerie smile. Then she focused in on the mug shots. Same lean face, same crazy smile. Wiseguy leer.

“A real sweetheart,” she said. “You have some of Noam as well?”

Decker gave her Noam’s school photograph. She said, “He looks kind of cocky, too.”

“Yep,” Decker said.

“But it’s more adolescent cockiness,” Marge said. “A kid trying to be tough.”

She sat down at her desk, unlocked her files, and pulled out a folder. “I started at the beginning. The rental cars at the airport. No one named Schaltz or Stewart or Stremmer, et cetera, rented any vehicles from the airport at least.”

“He could have changed his name again.”

“Could be,” Marge said. “Clerks I talked to see thousands of people. No one recalled seeing him—or him and a teenaged kid. If they were there, they got lost in the shuffle. I also talked to the various bus lines and as many cabbies as I could find. Also zip. Just too many people.”

Decker nodded.

Marge pulled out a piece of paper, turned it over. “Called Hollywood PD, put them on notice. Last night, I checked out the cheapy motels on the strip, also the shelters. Nothing.”

Starting from square one again, Decker thought. This time, no friends for leads. But at least he knew Los Angeles, knew the cracks that hide the untouchables.

“Did you have a chance to check out Westwood Village at night?” Decker said. “Tons of kids hanging out there now.”

“Didn’t get to it,” Marge said.

“I’ll do it,” Decker said.

“Hey, I’m free,” Marge said. “Keep you company if you want.” She thought of Rina. “You know what, Pete, I can do it myself—”

“No way, Charlie.”

“You stay with Rina.”

Decker shook his head. “She won’t mind. She got me into this mess.”

A lie, but a convenient one.

“I’ll get you home early,” Marge said.

“What a peach,” Decker said.

“I’ll pick you up around eight,” Marge said. “What are your plans now?”

“I have a few ideas,” Decker said. “Could be they settled around Disneyland. You know, kids on an adventure. Disneyland might be a big draw for both of them.”

“Sounds okay,” Marge said.

“I’ll head out for Anaheim now,” Decker said. “Pick up Rina, she can keep me company on the long ride over.”

“Any excuse to see the Magic Kingdom, eh?” Marge said.