Devereaux cut her off. “This is a federal case. We may very well want you to identify the boy. However, we have copies of his prints to substantiate.” While Mel bit her tongue, Devereaux shifted his gaze from her to Sebastian. “I’m moving on this under the advice of Special Agent Tucker in Chicago—who I’ve known for more than twenty years. Because he puts some stock in this psychic business, and because I have a grandson about David’s age, I’m not going to advise the two of you to go back to California and leave this alone.”

“We appreciate your help, Agent Devereaux.” Sebastian rose and took Mel by the elbow, squeezing hard before she could hurl whatever insult was in her mind. “I’ve made reservations at the Doubletree. We’ll wait for your call.”

Satisfied, Devereaux stood and offered a hand.

“I should have spit in it,” Mel grumbled a few moments later when they walked out into the torrid Atlanta evening. “The Feebies always treat PIs like mongrel dogs.”

“He’ll do his job.”

“Right.” She was distracted enough to let him open the door of the car they’d rented at the airport. “Because some pal of his took a shine to you in Chicago. What did you do up there, anyway?”

“Not enough.” Sebastian shut her door and rounded the hood. “I don’t suppose you feel like a quiet drink in the hotel bar and a leisurely dinner.”

“Not on your life.” She snapped her seat belt into place. “I need a pair of binoculars. Must be a sporting goods store around here someplace.”

“I imagine I could find one.”

“A long-range camera,” she said to herself, pushing up the sleeves of her borrowed shirt. “A federal case,” she muttered. “Well, there’s no law that says I can’t take a nice drive through the burbs, is there?”

“I don’t believe there is,” Sebastian said as he pulled into traffic. “Perhaps a walk, as well. Nothing quite like a walk in a nice neighborhood on a summer evening.”

She turned her head to beam a smile at him. “You’re all right, Donovan.”

“That kind of flattery will last me a lifetime.”

*  *  *

“Can you—?” Mel bit her lip and swallowed the question as they drove slowly down the tree-lined streets of Forest Park.

“Can I tell which house?” Sebastian finished for her. “Oh, eventually.”

“How—?” She cut that thought off, as well, and lifted the binoculars.

“How does it work?” He smiled and turned left, in what appeared to Mel to be an unstudied decision. “That’s a bit complicated to explain. Perhaps sometime, if you’re still interested, I’ll try.”

When he pulled over to the curb and stopped, she frowned. “What are you doing?”

“They often walk him here after dinner.”

“What?”

“They like to take him out in the stroller after dinner, before his bath.”