He pulled out four parchment-like pages that each bore a monogrammed "S" but had no address or name.

"Mr. Lyford, we give you facts you will not want to hear...." the letter began.

He read. He stopped reading. He stood and went to the window. His face was red. He went back to the desk and picked up the letter.

"Your 'adorable Susie' is a slut, a fucking little 8 year old bitch who can't get enough cock, and we have proof....."

At last, feverish, sick to his stomach, Lyford folded the missive and stuck it back in the envelope. He thought of calling the police, thought of shredding it.

He called his lawyer/private detective and asked if she had someone who could take prints. Maya Croft did, and she had computer access to the FBI tenprints files. The ID jockey was a pimply faced college kid who wore coke-bottle glasses and was so tech-bound he didn't even look at what the letter said.

"Negative," Maya told him two days later. "Nowhere. Not a blood donor, not a criminal, no military, nothing."

***

Who would want to do this, he wondered. He was not an elected politician, merely a hanger on, a Senator's L.A., he had a lovely young wife, a nice home, was paying down a membership in the Arlington Country Club. And of course his little girl was just as she appeared, a cute blonde bundle of energy and inquisitiveness who no more knew what a cock was than she knew how to make a bomb. Still, this letter was so definite, with times, dates, places, not names but initials and clear descriptions, it was nauseating. Some real wacko.....(cont)