“Ah. Two missing people. Did the mother take the girl with her?”

“No,” Chelsea said. “According to the letter, the child disappeared the day after she was born-in 1992. Our research people concluded the mother must have given her up for adoption. But they hit a roadblock. Did you know Texas won’t let you look at anything that has to do with adoption or foster care? I mean, like, nothing. That’s where you come in. You know the ropes here.” She giggled. “Hey, Stu. Ropes? Texas? Get it?”

He offered a tight smile.

Meanwhile, I sat back and took a deep breath, considering all this. I had to admit I was interested, but I might not have any better luck than the TV researchers. Texas keeps the safe securely locked when it comes to adoption. And the thought of working with Chelsea Burch was about as appealing as sticking my hand in a bucket of leeches. Hell, I probably would be sticking my hand in a bucket of leeches if I met her entire production crew.

I said, “I don’t think I can help you, Chelsea.”

“But I need you. You specialize in this kind of investigation.”

“Indeed, I do.”

Chelsea stared at me, her contact-blue eyes shiny with anger. “But you’re refusing to help me?”

“That’s right.”

She snatched up her notebook and shoved the pictures inside. Meanwhile, Stu stroked Diva one last time and picked up his camera.

“Come on, Stu,” Chelsea said, marching past me. “I knew Mr. Mayo’s idea was stupid.”

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“Out the way we came in,” she said over her shoulder.

“Too bad. Because I need more information.”

She turned, her narrow jaw slack. She stared at me in confusion for a second. “But… I thought-”

“I won’t help you, but I sure do want to meet Emma. What happens after that is in her hands.”

2

Turned out, Chelsea Burch was far less annoying with her binder open in front of her.