I thanked her for calling, and we promised to keep in touch. When I laid the cell phone

next to the pizza, I stared at the muted game and grudgingly admitted to myself that I

missed her.

* * *

Ruby was showered and shined and wearing the fresh clothing Megan had given her

yesterday. Her motel room was on the ground floor with the door facing the parking lot.

She was waiting for me. She stepped into the sunlight and hugged me tightly. "I'm

clean!" she said with a huge smile. "For twenty-four hours I'm clean!" We hugged again.

A couple in their sixties stepped from the room two doors down and stared at us. God

knows what they were thinking.

We returned to the city and went to Naomi's, where Megan and her staff were waiting for

the news. A small celebration erupted when Ruby made her announcement. Megan had

told me that the biggest cheers were always for the first twenty-four hours.

It was Sunday, and a local pastor arrived to conduct a Bible study. The women gathered

in the main room for hymns and prayer. Megan and I drank coffee in the garden and

worked out the next twenty-four hours. In addition to prayer and worship, Ruby would

get two heavy sessions of AA/NA. But our optimism was guarded. Megan lived in the

midst of addiction, and she was convinced Ruby would slide as soon as she returned to

the streets. She saw it every day.

I could afford the motel strategy for a few days, and I was willing to pay for it. But I

would leave for Chicago at four that afternoon, to begin my search for Hector, and I

wasn't sure how long I would be away. Ruby liked the motel, in fact she appeared to be

quite fond of it.

We decided to take things one day at a time. Megan would drive Ruby to a suburban

motel, one I would pay for, and deposit her there for Sunday night. She would retrieve

her Monday morning, and we would then worry about what to do next.

Megan would also begin the task of trying to convince Ruby she had to leave the streets.

Her first stop would be a detox center, then a transitional women's shelter for six months

of structured living, job training, and rehab.

"Twenty-four hours is a big step," she said. "But there is still a mountain to climb."

I left as soon as I could. She invited me to return for lunch. We could eat in her office,

just the two of us, and discuss important matters. Her eyes were dancing and daring me to

say yes.

So I did.

* * *

Drake & Sweeney lawyer always flew first-class; they felt as if they deserved it. They

stayed in four-star hotels, ate in swanky restaurants, but drew the line at limousines,

which were deemed too extravagant. So they rented Lincolns. All travel expenses were

billed to the clients, and since the clients were getting the best legal talent in the world,

the clients shouldn't complain about the perks.

My seat on the flight to Chicago was in coach, booked at the last minute and therefore in

the dreaded middle. The window seat was occupied by a hefty gentleman whose knees

were the size of basketballs, and on the aisle was a smelly youngster of eighteen or so

with jet-black hair, cut into a perfect Mohawk, and adorned in an amazing collection of

black leather and pointed chrome. I squeezed myself together, closed my eyes for two

hours, and tried not to think about the pompous asses sitting up there in first-class, where