PROLOGUE

Glancing around the dimly lit and empty Homicide Bureau, not even trying to stifle a yawn, Inspector Steven Keller leaned back in his desk chair and stretched. He and his partner had finally wrapped up an annoyingly difficult domestic homicide and the lieutenant was presenting their case to the ADA.

It seemed to be taking a lot longer than anticipated; Mike had been gone for almost four hours and the sun had long since set. But he didn't feel comfortable abandoning his partner and going home, even though his stomach was now growling and he could almost taste that first swallow of cold beer.

It had been a long and frustrating investigation, compromised and obfuscated by an extensive list of suspects and witnesses that took a lot of old-fashioned footwork and patient digging to winnow down to the inevitable conclusion. Both he and Mike were looking forward to a couple of days off to catch up on some much needed sleep and just clear their minds.

He dropped his elbows onto the desk and was running his hands through his hair when he heard the office door open and a weary Mike shuffled into the bullpen and started towards his office. Steve looked up. "So?" he asked as his partner meandered past him.

Without stopping, Mike exhaled loudly. "Gerry's gonna take it to the Grand Jury next week. He's happy with what we've given him. So, my young friend," he continued with a smile in his voice, "you and I are finally free to go home. What do you say?"

"I say, bring it on," Steve said with a chuckle and a grin as he got to his feet and slid his jacket from the back of the chair.

Mike stopped just inside his office door, took the fedora off the coat rack and dropped it haphazardly on his head. He circled his desk, took the .38 out of the top drawer, snapped it on his belt, then crossed back to the door. He was just about to turn off the fluorescent overheads in the small glassed-in office when the outer door opened and a beefy middle-aged man entered the room. Both Homicide detectives turned in his direction.

"Mike, Steve," the florid-faced redhead with the military buzzcut nodded as he closed the gap between them, "glad I caught you guys. You got a minute?"

Mike glanced at his partner and, seeing no objection, nodded as he took off his hat. "Sure, Phil, what can we do for you?"

Missing Persons Lieutenant Philip Jenkins took a deep breath and gestured towards the inner office. "Ah, sorry, but this may take awhile. Do you mind?"

Mike glanced behind himself briefly. "No, no, of course not. Come on in."

Jenkins dropped heavily into the guest seat as Mike sat in his desk chair, dropping his fedora onto the desk. Steve took up his usual station behind his partner, leaning against the filing cabinet. "What's up?"

Glancing at Steve and inhaling deeply, Jenkins leaned forward. "You two guys heard about that three-year-old that went missing from Golden Gate Park two days ago?"

Mike glanced up at Steve and nodded. "Yeah, he went missing from the Carousel, or something like that… Sorry, but we've been up to our eyeballs with one mother of a double…"

"Yeah, I heard," Jenkins commiserated, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his thighs. "Well, if you'll allow me, I'd just like to fill you in…?"

Mike glanced up again and caught his partner eye; Steve's subtle nod back was almost missed by their colleague. "Of course, go right ahead," Mike encouraged with a smile.

"Thanks," Jenkins nodded, leaning back and unconsciously straightening his tie. "Well, this young mother had her kids with her in the Park. They were watching the carousel when she suddenly collapsed. An ambulance was called and she was taken to Franklin; turned out she has some kind of a heart problem. A mitro valve something or other…

"Anyway, the Park personnel looked after her kids until her husband could be contacted and he could get to the Park. He was at a gym working out with a neighbour. So, he gets to the Park and finds out they only have two of his kids there – a two-year-old and an infant. He starts screaming, 'where's Donny, where's my three-year-old'. The Park guys had no idea there were three kids; when they got to the mother, there were only two kids with her.

"So, long story short, we get a call and we hustle down there and we start a search for the three-year-old. One of my guys is at the hospital with the mother and when she's well enough to talk, she goes ballistic, screaming that she went to the Park with three kids, what happened to Donny."

Mike had sat forward, his forearms on the desk, his brow furrowed. Steve's casual lean against the filing cabinet had become more rigid and focused.

"Anyway, she's accusing our guys and the Park guys of losing her kid. The husband starts in on us as well. And, of course, everyone starts getting anxious and worried as hell.

"So, Bob Braxton – you know him, Mike, right?" The Homicide lieutenant nodded with a brief smile. "So, Bob, he's interviewing the mother about the three-year-old and she tells him Donny isn't really her kid, he's a foster. Seems that four months earlier, he'd been found wandering in traffic. His drug addict single mother couldn't look after him, and he's a product of his…ah, lineage, I guess you could call it. So he was taken from her.

"According to the foster mother, he has developmental problems and he's essentially non-verbal. He needs full-time care. But she said he blossomed under her care and really enjoyed being with the other kids and he was really doing well."

Jenkins sat back and took a deep breath. "Anyway, we got a search party out there and had our guys and unies going through the Park tree by tree and leaf by leaf, and we had people knocking on doors four blocks from the Park in all directions. Nobody saw hide nor hair of this kid.

"We even found out about all the sex offenders that were known in the area… and again, nothing. We brought in the dogs. We interviewed everyone in the Park at the time, and anyone that goes to the Park regularly at the same time of the day, you know all the routine stuff we do to find a missing kid. And still nothing…."

Jenkins stopped talking and looked meaningfully from Mike to Steve and back again. "Mike," he began slowly and quietly, "nobody we interviewed remembered seeing Donny with her in the Park that day. They remembered the other two kids… but not Donny."

"And you don't think he was ever in that park, do you, Phil?"

Jenkins nodded slowly. "No, I don't."

Mike leaned back in the chair, continuing to stare at his colleague. "And that's why you've come to us, isn't it? You don't think that kid ever even made it into the park... You think he's dead, don't you?"

Jenkins held the blue-eyed stare for a long moment before he nodded slowly. "Yeah," he breathed quietly.

Mike closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He opened his eyes slowly and turned to meet those of his partner. He knew they were both exhausted, mentally and physically, but he also knew this was not something they could turn away from. With a heavy sigh, he stared at Jenkins.

"First thing in the morning, bring us everything you've got."