From Chapter 1 of HardCore Mother:

Downtown Oakland, California.
Marjorie Olds arrives at 208 East 14th Street. I have to tell you about this woman because she marks the place where a strange and upsetting story begins.
Said persona is a six-foot girl who does a lot of coming and going. Her tall, shapely form is topped with sand-colored hair. On the job, healthy, accessible to life, at 208 E. 14th Street she has pulled up to the curb in a two-door sedan.
It is late morning. The sun has been shining.
Her job is a psychiatric worker.

Marjorie Olds was a participant in a social improvement program in transit. She kept appointments most of the day in various clinics or centers or schools or private residences and adjusting the tabs on certain troubled peoples and troubled situations. There were occasional 'emergencies', calls which had to be followed up. Some originated even from city police sources. This is how she arrived at 208 East 14th.

A stark-dead city block. Street address is a disused storefront boarded over with cage work. There is a door. She had phoned the office, routine check-in. They sent her over here.
The police had received an emergency call which they termed "unverified". A woman's voice with a queer accent making up a story about a child (her "niece") who had been hurt and needed the medics. The cops were told to knock on the door at 208 East 14th and a little boy who was the hurt child's brother would let them in. He would direct them to the afflicted kid. According to cop radio, the whole business smacked of the phonus. The report was too cool and inconsistent, tone of voice aggressive with lying. Marjorie Olds was told to proceed cautiously.

She got out of her car and went up to the door. It was sturdy and old but masked with flashy security hardware of all kinds. M. Olds took a few deep breaths for her apprehensions. There was a note freshly tacked up which read, "Hurt child place." M. Olds uses both the bell and her knuckles on the door. She raps and ding-dongs on the grate.
While she's doing this, the cops arrive. As the cop pulls in, heard is someone inside turning locks and sliding latches off. The cop leaps from his squad car, a taxicab goes past in the background. The police is a young Chinese, first couple of years on the force. He ain't heavyset, yet. It repulses him. This one's got ideals but mostly he's got health and a clean uniform. He and Marjorie immediately wish to fuck. But right now, they want to investigate this.

They have turned around. An amazingly small brown-skinned boy is standing there. He emanates something. His deep brown eyes are bright. A precociously urbane Hindu boy is standing in the doorway.
"Jeezo, a couple of cops! A patrolman and a lady detective." "Is there an emergency here?" asked Marjorie Olds. "Y'er gonna take Metz-T to the hospital. C'mon in, people, I got my instructions. The patrolman has a genuine revolver! Jeezo!" They were led inside by the kid. As they went in, the lady detective pointed out for the cop's benefit, the sign posted on the doorway. The sign which read, "Hurt child place." [...]

[Go here to read an excerpt from chapter 5.]