"But Mommy, it's SATURDAY!"

"I wanna come with youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!"

"Dad doesn't know how to cook!"

The protests of my daughters Ariel, Bridget and Carrie, rang through the entire house as I got ready for work.

"I'm sorry," I said, kissing them each on the head. "After this case is over, I promise we'll go camping. Okay?"

They grumbled, and my 6-year-old, Bridget, mumbled, "But that could take a YEAR."

"Don't worry," I told her as I pulled on my shoes and blew them each kisses. "It should be done by tonight."

"I had a dream last night," I explained to my boss, the DA of Mariposa County. "I could see Michael Evans, and next to him was Emily Davis' body. I'm almost 100 percent certain that they were at that little park on 30th street. Her body is buried near the merry-go-round and swings."

"Are you absolutely certain?" he looked dubiously at me.

"Like I said, almost 100 percent."

"Take me there," he said. "And prove it. Then we can nail Evans and call it a day."

When we got to the park, there were some kids playing there, dirty ones, the kind who get made fun of in school and whose mothers don't bother to pack them a lunch or make sure their laundry is clean. They stared at me, with my clean business suit, and blinked. I said hi to them and they ran away. I sat directly in the middle of the swings and merry go round and waited. I moved a few feet and lay down.

"Help," said a voice. "Help me, please. Get him, please."

I sat up. "She's right here," I called.

I managed to arrive home at 6:30, early enough to make dinner, give Carrie and Bridget baths, tuck them in, pack for camping and spend a few hours talking to Ariel and my husband, Joe. I didn't talk about work; they don't ever want to hear about it. Instead, we talked about school and how we were going to spend our three-week holidays. Normal things. Family things. It was good, too good to last, and I knew that. My job was too unpredictable for that.

A little less that 15 hours later, my family and I were on the road, headed for our regular camping spot, a 6-hour drive from our home. Carrie was pouting because I wouldn't let her do up her own car seat. Bridget and Ariel were fighting about who got to play with the McDonald's toys. Joe had just turned on the Beatles and they were all cranky about that. I sat back, enjoying the sounds of my family.

It was at a rest stop 3 hours from home that it happened. I was standing outside a dingy bathroom stall waiting for Bridget to come out, when a pregnant woman waddled in.

"Hello, Alison," she said to me.

"Who are you?" I whispered.

"I'm Mike Evans' ex-wife, Sarah," she said. "And I can tell you now, that Emily girl wasn't his only victim. There was me, and our unborn baby. Not to mention our son Jake."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm sorry. I can't do anything right now, Sarah, but I promise I'll do something soon."

She gave me a grating look and walked out of the bathroom at the same second that Bridget emerged from the stall.

"Who were you talking to, Mom?" she asked.

"Oh, no one," I replied. "Just the mirror. Wash your hands, Bridge."

Sarah followed us all the way to the campground and came and sat down next to Joe and I while we sat on the beach.

"We're your responsibility," she said.

I glared at her. "Excuse me a second, Joe. Watch that Carrie doesn't go in the water by herself." I stood up and walked to the bathroom. Sarah Evans was waiting for me.

"You have to do something, Alison. It's important. Just phone. If you save us, Mike could get the punishment he deserves."

I nodded. "If I do, will you leave me alone?" I was already taking my cell phone out of my pocket.

She nodded. "Yes, thank you." And with that, she disappeared.

I walked back to our camper and dialled the DA's office.

"Good afternoon, Mariposa County DA's Office, Karen speaking. How may I direct your call?"

"This is Alison Dubois," I said. "May I please speak to DA Brown?"

"Certainly, Mrs. Dubois. Please hold."

I waited for a good 10 minutes. "Brown here."

"I've got something."

"Alison? What are you doing? You're on vacation."

I raised my eyebrows. "My work follows me."

"What have you got?"

"Sarah Evans," I said.

"Who?"

"Our Michael Evans' ex-wife. Can you look into her case? As well as Jake Evans?"

"Sure, can you hang on a second?"

"Yes."

I sat in my camp chair and watched the sun set. "Okay, here's what I've got. Sarah's death was listed as "suspicious", but was never investigated. And Jake Evans was listed as "natural causes", which in a 9-month-old baby would probably mean SIDS. Why?"

I sucked in my breath. "Sarah decided to pay me a visit," I said. "Can you see what sort of incriminating evidence you can dig up on Mike Evans on the grounds of the murders of Sarah and Jake Evans?"

"I'll see what I can do. Thank you, Alison."

"You're welcome. I'll see you in August."

"Have a good vacation."

I hung up the phone and started making dinner on the camp stove. I could hear Joe's, Ariel's, Bridget's and Carrie's voices coming up the path and I felt a surge of love. It may have been my responsibility to bring justice to those who wouldn't have justice otherwise, but it was also my responsibility to make sure my family didn't starve. I don't know about you, but I'd take feeding my family any day.