Secret Prey

you. I was out of town all day yesterday and today, I just got back and got your messages.’’
    ‘‘They came and got her,’’ she wailed.
    ‘‘Child Protection?’’
    ‘‘Child Protection, Child Welfare, whatever they call it. They say I gave her marijuana and beat her up and I never did any of that, she’s my baby, I don’t understand, they said some teacher called, but I can’t find anybody at her school.’’
    ‘‘Let me make a call,’’ Lucas said. ‘‘I know a woman over there who might know something.’’
    ‘‘Please, please get her back.’’
    Lucas talked to her for another minute, then hung up, found Nancy Bunker’s name in his address book, and punched her number in. She was just leaving.
    ‘‘Yeah, I know about it. Doesn’t look like much. The girl said her mother slapped her once during an argument, open hand, no injury, more like a girl fight. Said she’s used some marijuana around school, but that was what the fight was about. Her mother was trying to stop her.’’
    ‘‘So what’re you doing with her?’’
    ‘‘Well, she’s out at a foster home right now; we usually keep them a couple of nights, just to make sure. She’ll be home tomorrow.’’
    ‘‘Huh.’’
    ‘‘What’s your interest, Lucas?’’
    ‘‘Did you ever find the teacher who called in the information?’’
    ‘‘No, it was anonymous, but you know how it is—we don’t take chances if there’re reports of physical abuse. Especially drugs and physical abuse. And we want to get the kid off to a safe place, where she feels safe about talking about it . . . So, what’s your interest?’’
    ‘‘I think you were deliberately set up to mess with the kid’s mother. She’s a source of mine in this Kresge murder case.’’
    ‘‘Really? Set up?’’
    ‘‘I think so. I don’t doubt that the kid smokes a little dope, but then so did you.’’
    Bunker laughed. ‘‘Yeah, the good old days. So what do you want me to do?’’
    ‘‘How about releasing the kid to her mother? I’ll pick her up, take her home.’’
    ‘‘Damn it; I’d have to sit back down and turn the computer back on . . .’’
    ‘‘Another little tragedy in your life.’’
    ‘‘You gotta be over here in ten minutes,’’ Bunker said. ‘‘I’m trying to catch a bus.’’
    ‘‘Taking a little undertime today?’’
    ‘‘Nine minutes, now.’’
    ‘‘Be right there.’’
    THE FOSTER HOME WAS IN EDINA, WEST OF MINNEAPOLIS. Lucas picked up the papers for the foster parents, and on the way out, slowed by traffic, he called the medical examiner’s office and got an investigator on the line. ‘‘I’m looking for a file on an Amelia Lamb. About twenty years old.’’
    ‘‘Nothing here, Lucas. Are you sure of the name?’’
    ‘‘Last name I’m sure of; the first name, I don’t know, there may be an alternative spelling.’’
    After a few more seconds, the investigator said, ‘‘Lots of Lambs, but nothing like an Amelia.’’
    ‘‘Can you get into the state death certificates from your computer?’’
    ‘‘I’d have to call, I could get back to you.’’
    ‘‘Could you do that? This is kind of important.’’ The ME’s investigator was back five minutes later. ‘‘You want Dakota County, and specifically, you want Mercy-South. You want that phone number?’’
    ‘‘Give it to me.’’ Lucas got the number, the date of Lamb’s death, and the attending physician, and scribbled it all in his notebook. He called the hospital, spent five minutes working his way through the bureaucracy, and was finally told by an assistant director that he could see the records if he brought a subpoena with him.
    ‘‘Even if the woman’s dead?’’
    ‘‘It’s our policy,’’ she said.
    ‘‘It’s a pain,’’ Lucas said. ‘‘But I’ll get one for you. What’s the name of your director out there?’’
    She gave him the name and he said, ‘‘Ask him to stick around the house tonight, we don’t want to have to have a cop run him down. We can probably get the subpoena out there before midnight.’’
    ‘‘Really? I think he and his wife are going to the chamber orchestra.’’
    ‘‘Well—he should be home before we get the subpoena. If we do get it earlier, we’ll just ask the orchestra people to page him during the concert.’’
    ‘‘Hang on.’’
    And she was back in five minutes: ‘‘The director tells me that I was misinformed. Since Mrs. Lamb is dead, and you’re a