Caroline shook her head. "I think it has to do with her family," she said. "Domestic violence, probably from a father or stepfather."

Roger frowned. "How do you figure that?"

"That look she gave you in the living room, for one thing, when I first asked about her family,"

Caroline said. "She's nervous in your presence."

"Interesting theory," Roger murmured. "Problem is, she wasn't looking at me."

It was Caroline's turn to frown. "Are you sure?"

"Positive," he said. "Because at first I thought the same thing you did. What she was doing was making sure I'd locked the door, then doing a quick scan of the balcony itself."

"Of the balcony?"

Roger shrugged. "She came in that way," he pointed out. "If she can, why can't someone else? And don't forget our husky friend with the handy Broadway dimmer switch. If this is a case of family violence, we're talking one very weird family."

"You're right," Caroline sighed, conceding the point. "So what do we do?"

"Good question," Roger said, tracing a finger along the edge of the knife handle. "We can't call anyone; cops or Children and Family Services. She'd just disappear again. And we can't throw her out, either, not in the middle of the night."

"So she stays here?" Caroline asked.

"At least for tonight," he said, not sounding very happy about it. "Maybe tomorrow she'll be more willing to talk."

"And if she isn't?"

Roger exhaled noisily. "Let's just hope she is."

Dinner that evening was a quiet and rather strained affair, at least on Roger's part. He was fine when talking to Caroline about the details of her day, or discussing the latest political scandal from upstate.

But all his conversational gambits with Melantha fell as flat as last year's campaign promises. Maybe Caroline was right; maybe the girl was afraid of him.

Caroline did a little better. She was able to get Melantha talking about her hobbies, her favorite foods, and her taste in music. The first centered around painting and gardening; the second included Greek and Moroccan cuisine and any kind of seafood; the third ran to current preteen heart throbs, most of whom Roger had never heard of.