I had asked Em to pose as a Child Services officer and, if she could, to leave Reed’s house with the child Daniel.
If anyone could, she was the best bet. Five the next evening, I waited outside the house that Stanley Reed rented with the boy. Sure enough, a black Audi rolled up and out marched Em.
Dressed in a dark power suit, carrying a heavy briefcase, her hair severely tied back, and her face like the wrath of God, she strode up to the door and banged loudly. Stan opened and she bulldozed her way past him. I lit a cig, settled in to wait, but, to my amazement, the door opened after ten minutes and out came Em, leading the boy, who looked bewildered. Stan was waving his arms and Em turned sharply on a heel, got right up to his face, and read some riot act
. . . because he backed off.
