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“And if there is anything I can do to help get this girl to talk, as a citizen, as a concerned neighbor, whatever, you let me know.”

“I’m not sure I should share anything—”

“Who the hell am I going to tell anything?”

Pope held up his hands chest high, palms out. “Hold up, Javier. I’m just—”

“Look, Geoff. My baby sister is her age, and I know when she’s holding something back. And I’m telling you, that poor girl is holding something back.”

“You don’t think she did it, do you? What’d be her motive?”

“Maybe she gets the house?”

“That banshee cry of hers is deep. It’s not contrived.”

“Whatever it is, she’s lying.”

Pope shrugged.

Javier said, “I mean, I don’t think it’s a malicious lie, I don’t. But there’s something not being said.”

“There always is, Javier. Welcome to police work.”

V

[ONE]

2620 Wilder Street, Philadelphia Sunday, November 1, 9:02 A.M.

Will Curtis drove the rented white Ford Freestar minivan up onto the cracked South Philly sidewalk, braking to a stop in front of the tiny, run-down, two-story row house.

He studied it and thought, Hope this sonofabitch is in there.

I can’t believe that last sonofabitch’s address was so old the house was completely gone, burned to the damn ground.

Don’t want two dead ends to start my day.

Curtis wore his Federal Express uniform, complete with the grease-smeared FedEx cap. The driver and front passenger doors of the minivan each had a three-foot-square polymer sign displaying the red-and-blue FedEx logotype and the words HOME DELIVERY. He knew his makeshift package delivery van wouldn’t pass muster with anyone back at the distribution warehouse, but so far it had looked like the real deal to everyone else.

Curtis got out from behind the steering wheel and glanced around the neighborhood.

It wasn’t that early in the morning, but the street was quiet. There were only the sounds of dogs yapping down the block and, not too far off in the distance, the horn blare from a SEPTA light-rail train.

He saw a skinny, mangy gray cat across the street. It was eating Halloween candies that had been dropped and squashed on the sidewalk.

Probably stolen from some poor kid.

But who’d go door to door for candy in this dump of a place?

For drugs, sure. Which is why it’s quiet now.

Damn lowlifes up all night chasing ass and doing dope.

But catching them now all good and sleepy will be some sort of justice.

He reached back inside the door of the minivan. There was a stack of He reached back inside the door of the minivan. There was a stack of six thin white paperboard envelopes on the dashboard, and he pulled the top one off the stack. Each of the envelopes bore the distinctive FedEx logotype, as well as a clear plastic pouch holding a bill of lading.

Stepping carefully, Curtis carried the envelope toward the front door of the row house. Parts of the crumbling sidewalk were broken down to bare dirt, and there were knee-high dead weeds in the cracks.