He’s not really a teenager. He’s probably in his mid-twenties, with a thin blond mustache and a hank of straight hair spilling from under his helmet.

“The cop?” I ask, recalling Officer Ervin’s droopy beagle eyes. “The cop who went in after her?”

“We got him out. Take it easy.”

“I’m okay . . . really.”

Livy slides under my right arm as I get to my feet, supporting me with surprising strength. I’ve never felt so jittery in my life. All my muscles are quivering and jerking as though exhausted by an overexpenditure of adrenaline, and my heart is laboring noticeably in my chest.

“The library,” I remember. “My dad’s books.”

Livy shakes her head. “It’s too late. The whole house is going up. It’s a miracle you got out alive.”

“That’s a fact,” says the fireman. “We pulled you out just as the flames came through the bedroom door.”

“Thank you. I know I could have died in there.”

He smiles and gives me a salute. “You done pretty good yourself, buddy.”

With Livy’s help I make my way around to the front yard.

It looks as though every neighbor for a square mile has come to watch the fire. The crowd fills the surrounding yards and much of the street. Two fire trucks have their hoses trained on the house, and a third on the old oak with the creeper vine.

My mother runs up to me, her face ashen. “Penn! I can’t find Annie!”

I jerk erect and shake my head clear. “Where did you see her last?”

“After you went in. It was taking so long—I was looking for you. I just put her down for a second!”

“How long ago?”

“Three or four minutes!”

The area is so choked with people that Annie could be ten feet away and we’d still miss her. The only thing in our favor is that we know most of the people in the crowd. Within five minutes, everyone on the street is looking for her.

As I run shirtless through the throng, fighting down panic, all I can think is that this fire was no accident. The “boom” my mother heard had to be some kind of fire bomb. This whole disaster was staged to draw the attention of the cop watching the house. And it did. Officer Ervin bravely charged into the inferno to save Ruby’s life, and in the process left my mother and daughter unprotected. My similar effort completed the kidnapper’s work, by breaking my mother’s concentration.

After five minutes of searching in vain, I realize I have to call the police. I prosecuted several kidnaping cases in Houston, and I learned one thing from the FBI agents who worked them. The first hour is the best chance of finding the victim, and every lost minute can mean disaster.