Decker picked out the bank statements. After an hour of perusing deposit and withdrawal slips, he surmised she had one checking account, her balance hovering around three hundred dollars. She also had a savings account with approximately three thousand dollars as of three days ago. He gathered her statements and called the bank, only to discover that the account was still active, and no transaction had taken place within the last week.

Didn’t look like she cut out of town with her money.

Decker thought a moment. Nothing he’d discovered about Marie revealed a woman planning a kidnapping. And if she took the baby, she had left the hospital with nothing more than the clothes on her back. Her apartment was neat. If she had come home and frantically packed, something would have appeared out of order.

It was time to start pulling up cushions and crawling under the bed. Decker had thoroughly combed the living room for the second time when Bellson’s phone rang. He stopped and waited for the machine to kick in. It was Paula.

Decker interrupted her message. The woman immediately asked who this was, suspicion in her voice.

“Detective Sergeant Peter Decker of the Los Angeles Police. I was going to call you anyway. I understand you have a three o’clock appointment with Ms. Bellson.”

There was a pause on the other end.

“Paula?”

“How do you know who I am?”

“I could say it was fancy police work, but the truth is, you said your name at the beginning of the message.”

“How do I know you are who you say you are?”

“Call Foothill Substation and verify my badge number. For now, do me a favor and talk to me. Was your appointment for today?”

Again the pause. “Yes.”

“Why were you calling Marie, Paula? To confirm the time and place?”

“I don’t feel comfortable—”

“You called Marie yesterday as well.”

“How did you…what’s this all about?”

“Do you remember around what time you called?”

Silence on the other end. Decker said, “Please help me out.”

Slowly, Paula answered, “I guess it was around four. She wasn’t in, and I realized she was probably at work. So I called today just to make sure…what was your name again?”

Decker massaged his temples. Four o’clock. Marie was working by then. Someone had come into the apartment, listened to the messages, and rewound them. “Paula, Marie is missing—”

“What do you mean, missing?”

“Just that. She disappeared last night at work. Do you have any idea where she might have gone?”

“No, I…who are you?”

Decker repeated his name and his badge number. “No idea where she is?”