“I know Hollister. He’s a good guy,” Colter agreed. “Watch your hands.” He closed the door and went around to climb in under the steering wheel. He glanced in the rearview mirror. Clancey was strapped in, also, but staring out the window as if she felt trapped.

“Okay,” he said as he started the SUV. “Somebody direct me.”

“It’s on Oak Street,” Clancey volunteered reluctantly. “Number 241. There’s a 911 sign on the lawn, beside the mailbox.”

He nodded and pulled out into the street. Beside him, Tad was looking at everything and plying him with questions. Clancey was grateful, because she was unsettled with her boss. She could disguise it at work, but it seemed very different outside the office, almost uncomfortable. She didn’t want him to see where they lived. It wasn’t just the poverty of it; there was the address. What if he remembered that from his cold case? Her grandfather had lived here, before he vanished without a trace.

She almost panicked. Then she realized that if she got Tad out of the SUV very quickly, they could thank him and rush inside. He’d probably forget the address at once. Then he wouldn’t have to see what miserable conditions they endured here.

Colter drove, wondering why the address seemed so familiar. Perhaps he was remembering her job application, he thought. He’d only scanned it when she was hired, and not very closely. Strange, to have an address click in his mind. That usually only happened when he was working a case. He dismissed the thought and concentrated on Tad’s questions.

THREE

Banks saw at once why Clancey had tried to avoid riding here with him. It was more than apparent that her family lived in appalling poverty.

The house needed painting. The door had a torn screen. The wooden steps had a missing piece on one side, and they were bowed from long use. The shingled roof looked as if it probably leaked in heavy rain. Banks frowned as he noted the other houses nearby, most of which were in a similar dilapidated condition. It wasn’t a better section of the city. He’d never thought about where Clancey lived. He wondered why her parents didn’t maintain the house.

Tad unfastened his seat belt. “Come on in, Mr. Banks!” he invited. “I want to show you my meteorite that Clancey bought me! It’s awesome!”

Clancey got out with the boy. “Tad, Mr. Banks is working today...” she began, her face coloring as she tried to shut down her brother.

“Oh, he’s got a minute, haven’t you, Mr. Banks? It’s a swell meteorite!”

Colter smiled at the boy. “Is it? I like rocks myself.” He glanced at Clancey, who looked devastated. He scowled at her expression.

Tad ran ahead and unlocked the door with the key he always carried in his jeans pocket.