“She feels cheated. It’s like she said in her speech today: She didn’t get to grow up here. Now she meets you and she feels like she missed out on even more. She has no photographs, no mementos—she feels like her entire childhood is one big blank.”

“I have plenty of photographs. She can see them anytime she wants.”

“She told me all about the wonderful scrapbook you put together for her. I sure wish I’d had a chance to see it. I wonder—is there any chance I could take a look?”

“I’d be more than happy,” Agnes said. “You come with me.”

Riddick followed Agnes into the small room off the lobby and watched as she unlocked the lower drawer and pulled out the leather-bound scrapbook. He noted the drawer’s location and looked at the lock; it was a simple single-tumbler device that any moron with a bobby pin could pick. He looked at his watch. Closing time, Grandma—time to go home so I can get to work.

He watched over her shoulder while Agnes turned the pages, showing him the photographs, the birth records, the adoption papers. He shook his head in amazement and grinned from ear to ear. Poor Victoria, he thought. Looks like you’re not the purebred you thought you were—no wonder you just about had a coronary today. Poor little Victoria—or should I say, poor little Beulah? Given away by her own mother to a family on the other side of the tracks. Hey, who says you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear? Your folks sure did. Man—what would happen if the wrong people got their hands on this? Can you imagine, Victoria? ’Cause I sure can.

“This is just wonderful,” Riddick said. “Are these documents originals?”

“Every last one.”

“I don’t suppose you have any copies? I’d love to surprise Victoria with them—I know she’d die to have them.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t. These things can never leave this room.”

“I understand completely.”

“Would you like to see the other scrapbook too?”

Riddick looked at her. “What scrapbook is that?”

“Victoria left in such a hurry, I never got to show it to her.” She bent down to the drawer again and pulled out a second scrapbook almost equal in size to the first. She set it in front of Riddick and began to turn the pages.

Riddick threw back his head and laughed.

“How’s it goin’ at the Patriot Center, Elgin?”

sheriff’s deputy Elgin Tate swiveled around on his barstool and looked at the table behind him. “Evenin’, Mr. Decker—didn’t see you sit-tin’ there.”

“Thought I’d stop off for a quick one on the way home.”

“Haven’t seen you here before.”