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did she care what they thought of her?
    Melissa took another five minutes deciding. With an animated shrug she pulled on a pair of True Religions and a short-sleeve blue top. In the bathroom she carefully applied the new makeup Linda had bought her. Then she stood before the full-length mirror, turning back to front. She looked good . Designer jeans were amazing.
    “Morning, Melissa.” Baxter shot her a broad smile when she walked into the kitchen. He was dressed in a suit and tie, looking out at the backyard and drinking from a mug. The aroma of coffee filled the room. Linda wasn’t around. “You look great.”
    Melissa eyed him warily. Four days here and she still hadn’t figured this guy out. He acted so nice. And normal. But no man living in a house like this could be normal. Besides, males usually wanted something. Her stepdad sure had, and she’d only been eleven at the time. Melissa’s mom hadn’t been around to stop it. The men who lived with them after that had been no better.
    Melissa looked at the floor. “Thanks.”
    Baxter walked to the sink and set his cup down with a faint click . “You want coffee?”
    “No thanks.”
    He turned toward her. “Anything to eat?”
    She shook her head.
    Baxter regarded her for a moment, concern in his expression. Melissa forced herself to stare back. Where was Linda?
    “Do you like living here, Melissa?” he asked.
    “Yes.”
    His face softened. “Good. I want you to be comfortable. I hope in time you’ll see you can trust us. You don’t have to be on your guard here.”
    Melissa felt herself go numb. No response, not a single word would form on her tongue. How did he see her so clearly? And who talked like that anyway—just saying something right out? Words were meant to be shields. Words were meant to be dances.
    She lifted a shoulder. “I’m just fine.”
    He opened his mouth as if to say more, then nodded.
    Linda saved the moment by entering the kitchen. “Hey there, Melissa, you look terrific.” She was rubbing lotion on her hands. Melissa smelled roses. Linda wore cream slacks and a green silk blouse. She looked perfect. Melissa’s heart swelled. Why couldn’t somebody like this woman have been her mother? Why had God given Linda no children and let Melissa be born to a ratty alcoholic?
    Baxter crossed to his wife and drew a finger down her cheek. “And so do you.”
    Linda swiped her hand through the air. “Oh, you say that to all your wives.” She turned and grinned at Melissa. “Okay, let’s go!”
    On the way to church Linda babbled about the girls Melissa would meet. Heather and Christy and Belle and Nicole. Other names Melissa couldn’t begin to remember. “They’re really looking forward to meeting you.”
    Melissa stiffened. “They know I’m coming?”
    Baxter glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “Sure they do. Last Sunday we told everyone we’d be picking you up in a few days. Linda was too excited to keep quiet.”
    Only Linda was excited?
    The thought plucked at her. Melissa pushed it away.
    Terrific , she told herself. A whole church just waiting to see what she looked like. Probably been talking about her all week.
    By the time she, Linda, and Baxter slid out of the Mercedes, Melissa had checked the wall around her heart for loose bricks. She’d be polite to the adults and grimace later. As for girls her age, she didn’t need them. Friends wanted to know things about you. Friends could hurt you.
    No one who knew the real Melissa Harkoff, who knew the slummy life she’d come from and the things she’d done, would ever want to be her friend.

EIGHT
    FEBRUARY 2010
    Fifteen years ago I’d forged my way into skip tracing while working in a private investigator’s office in San Jose. The work is exciting. But unlike the portrayal on trumped-up TV shows, most skip tracing is done online. I could stay warm and dry in my house while I chased Melissa through the teeming, winding halls of cyberspace. Sitting at a computer may