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named Walt Summers. Walt and Dick had been to a few of these over the last couple of years, late-night calls that never seemed to turn out how anyone wanted, and almost always found their end in the expansive lawns of Riverside Park.
    “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Peterson, though I can’t help but imagine we could do so under better circumstances. I’m Detective Richard Van Endel, Dick for short. I want you to tell me everything that you can recall about your daughter’s plans this evening. I know you’ve probably already done this, but please humor me. I want your daughter home safe and in bed almost as badly as you do.”
    “She went to the drive-in with her friends,” said Sam. “I was sort of on the fence about letting her go, but…Do you have kids, Detective?” Van Endel shook his head. “Well, Officer Summers here and I were just talking about how it’s all about balance with raising children, especially a free spirit like Molly. If you don’t let them do some of the stuff that you don’t want them to do, then they’re going to do all the stuff you don’t want them to, only it’ll be behind your back.”
    He nodded. “Makes sense. What kind of stuff are we talking about, if I may ask?”
    “Oh, nothing awful,” she said. “Boys. Molly likes to play the wild thing, but I know she’s not. Not really.” She smiled. “A parent’s greatest asset can be making your child forget that you’re not an authority figure, but a friend. You still are a parent, of course, but especially raising a girl alone, it’s good that she can tell me things I don’t want to hear. It’s how I know she’s OK. Does that make sense?”
    “It does,” said Van Endel, who was wondering, and not for the first time, if he would ever have children. The chances seemed remote at this point. Nights like this, he was OK with it. “What time did she leave?”
    “Just after seven. Her friend Jammi Walther drove them, they were meeting some other friends there.” She took a long drag from her cigarette, then continued. “Rebecca Benchley was in the car as well. Could have been someone else too, for all I know.
    “Here’s the thing. Molly had a strict curfew, and she knew it. I don’t worry much about what she does when she’s out—she’s got common sense and tells me everything about her life—but the curfew is something she knows she has to respect. That was why I called. She’s never late, not ever. I didn’t want to be one of those crazy people calling her friends, but I finally snapped and called Jammi’s mom, since Jammi drove.”
    “What did they have to say?”
    “That Jammi saw Molly necking with some boy, and then they were just gone. There was a big scuffle between one of the other girls and a boy—Becca, I think—and then all the teenagers were clearing out of there. That was why I called. All the other kids were home on time, and they saw my daughter go off with some boy that no one knew, and no one could call me?”
    “Sam, you need to relax,” said Van Endel, reaching across the table to take one of her forearms in his hand. “Molly has only been gone a few hours. You need to get some rest, take a Valiumif you have some, and in the morning, call all of her friends. That is, if she doesn’t come home in between, of course.” He smiled thinly. “Kids, good kids even, do stupid, disrespectful things all the time. Hopefully this turns out to be nothing more than a family problem.”
    “Then why are there so many police in my home, Detective?” Sam asked bitterly. “If everything is still OK, why is it so far past curfew and my daughter isn’t home? I read the papers. I know all about the bodies at Riverside—”
    “Mrs. Peterson,” said Van Endel, interrupting her and raising a hand. “Those girls are not like your daughter. They were all known prostitutes, and they were all taken miles from that drive-in. Molly was nowhere close to that area, and there’s no reason to be drawing