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foster family. Even though the children only stayed a short time, Terrance understood the instinct to protect them at all costs. Lily Eastin was simply doing the same for her daughter. Yet, as the woman had stood in front of him pleading her daughter’s case, he couldn’t tell who she was trying to convince more—him, or herself.
    Lily and Maddy had followed Detective Wallace back to City Hall, driving in their own car. They met up on the third floor, where the detectives’ offices were. Maddy had worked with an officer to create a facial composite of the man who’d almost abducted her. The process had been painful for both of them. She gave so many contradictory descriptions, the muddled image came out looking like an angry Cheech Marin circa 1978. Except he had a scraggly beard instead of a thick mustache.
    Wallace’s immediate supervisor, Corporal Rhodes, walked into Wallace’s cubicle after Lily and Maddy finally left. He eased into the extra chair.
    “Back still bothering you?” Wallace asked him.
    Rhodes shrugged almost imperceptibly, like he was trying to avoid any extra movement. “Some days worse than others. I see the girl and her mother are gone.”
    “Yeah, they left about ten minutes ago.”
    “What are you thinking on this one?”
    “Don’t know yet. The girl seems pretty upset, but is it because of the attempted abduction or because Daddy walked out on her? I’m not sure. Her story lacks serious credibility. Not only did it change every time she opened her mouth, it had too many specifics. You know how it goes. During an attack, victims are so pumped full of adrenaline the details are usually a blur. This Eastin girl told me how the guy grabbed her left wrist and held her around the ribs with his right arm. It sounded more like a book report than an account of a supposed abduction.”
    Wallace grabbed a pen off the desk and started tapping his knee with it. “But it’s too soon to make a judgment call. The patrol officer canvassing the Eastins’ neighborhood didn’t come up with any witnesses yet. However, half of the block was away at work, so I’m going back out there this evening.”
    “What about the bus driver?”
    “Nothing.” Wallace grabbed a copy of the report Officer Santos had given him. “Says here, at approximately six thirty a.m. the driver reported seeing Maddy Eastin run down the middle of the street, waving her arms to make him stop. As the driver exited the bus, he said Maddy babbled hysterically. He finally figured out that a guy had tried pulling her into a van. The bus driver never saw the supposed vehicle.”
    “I’ve already started fielding calls about this from newspapers.” Rhodes pointed at the suspect drawing on Wallace’s desk. “Do you want to let them run the picture along with the story?”
    Wallace thought about it, chewing on the pen’s cap.
    When Wallace didn’t answer, Rhodes said, “Man, that Demir case really screwed you up. I’ve never known you to second-guess yourself like this.”
    You’re not the only one.
    Amani Demir, a sixteen-year-old Muslim girl, had reported an attempted rape a few months back. Wallace remembered how he’d fallen hard for the girl’s story. It had gotten all the way to court before the defense presented a completely different version of events—as it turned out, the true version.
    Amani had been getting into trouble, and her mother had threatened to send her back to Turkey to live with relatives if she didn’t change her American ways. In their Muslim faith, it was forbidden for a female to be alone in a room with a male that wasn’t a relative. When Amani’s mother came home early one day to find Amani with her shirt ripped and a man grabbing her by the arm, the girl cried rape. Come to find out, Amani had been dating the nineteen-year-old boy, but had tried to break it off numerous times. He’d shown up at Amani’s house, but when she wouldn’t take him back, he got rough with her. The guy ended up