Photographers and camera crews from half a dozen television stations recorded the event while on-air reporters stood in front of blinding portable lights relating the latest to viewers of the early morning news programs in LA and Santa Barbara and who-knew-where.

Jane Thomas and Steve Morgan stood in the flood of harsh light with Petal the pit bull sitting at Jane’s feet. Dixon stood behind the camera crew with his arms crossed over his chest. Mendez stepped up beside him.

“. . . as you can see,” Jane Thomas was saying to the blonde with the microphone, “a ground search has been organized and will be getting under way shortly. I encourage any of your viewers who might be able to join the search. Karly Vickers has been missing now for an entire week. It’s imperative that we do all we can to find her.”

“And I understand your center has posted a reward,” the blonde said.

“Yes, the Thomas Centers for Women have established a reward of ten thousand dollars for information leading to Karly’s recovery and to the conviction of the person who took her.”

“A tip line has been set up . . .”

“How’s she holding up?” Mendez asked quietly.

“She feels better doing something,” Dixon said. “She’s got the women at the center helping with the hotline, running off posters, helping organize food and beverages for the searchers.”

The reporter introduced Steve Morgan. He spoke about the importance of the Thomas Center to the community, and about the professionals—like himself—who donated their time and services to the center.

“I hope to God they don’t find a body out there,” Dixon said.

“The odds of finding this girl alive are getting longer by the day,” Mendez said.

“It’s not impossible. Maybe Sells—if Sells is our man—decided he had to lay low for a while and he’s got her stashed. Maybe he was enjoying this girl more than the other. Maybe he decided to keep her.”

None of that seemed very likely to Mendez but he kept that to himself for now.

“Sells hasn’t said anything yet?” Dixon asked.

“He told me to go fuck myself, but that’s not what you wanted to hear.”

“What a nightmare,” Dixon said. “I moved up here to get away from this kind of craziness.”

“Bad is everywhere, boss.”

The sky was brightening enough to see beyond the lights. The field beyond the cars was tinted green from rain they had had the week before, and studded with the big spreading oak trees the area was known for. It was a pretty place, a place where people might want to have a picnic, not to search for a corpse.

“Did you talk to Farman?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“How did that go?”