“Nobody knows anything for sure.” She turned on her side. There was nothing else I could say.

Downstairs I considered what to do about the screen. I preferred waiting until both girls were asleep before I went outside, but judging from my conversation with Holly, I didn’t think she would be asleep anytime soon. Before long it would be too dark to see.

In the garage I removed a lightweight stepladder from its home against a wall and found a screwdriver. Outside the screen was already flapping in the wind. Once I was level with it, I saw two screws were missing.

I removed the other two and pocketed them. Then I carried everything back into the garage. At some point I would buy new screws and fix the screen for real, but for now, at least it wouldn’t be banging against the siding.

Inside I locked up and turned on the security alarm for the first time since the dead bolts had been repaired. Something about being outside had set my teeth on edge. We were isolated here, with no neighbors in residence yet and woods behind the house. Caution was always the best choice.

I checked on Holly, who was staring fixedly at the ceiling. I left her to stare, afraid if I spoke to her she might stay awake even longer. In the master bedroom I pulled out my computer and researched childhood insomnia. As I’d thought, stress was often a cause. Insomnia could also result from too much caffeine, conditions in the bedroom like noise, an overabundance of light, and most interesting of all to me, a stuffy nose from allergies.

“Bingo.” I got up to search the girls’ medicine cabinet and found cotton balls, but nothing they could swallow. My sister was a diligent, protective mother.

Wendy was even more protective in the master bathroom, where I discovered a locked medicine cabinet and no key, although several nearly empty prescription bottles, one for high blood pressure, another for heartburn, sat on the sink. Since the cabinet didn’t match the vanity, I theorized it was an addition. Whether Wendy or another renter had added it, medication was safe in this house, which in today’s world of accidental overdoses was a bonus.

Since I had no way of knowing what medication Wendy used for Holly’s allergies, I had to let go of that idea. The website had advised allowing children to read in a low light environment to help them relax. I would try that if Holly stayed awake.

While I waited, I changed my search to Milton Kerns and began to scan multiple varieties of the name. Nothing promising turned up, and many of my hits were obituaries. I found one M. Kernston who was starring in an amateur theater production of The Sound of Music. Somehow, I couldn’t envision Wendy’s “Milton” performing the role of Captain Georg von Trapp one night and committing murder the next.

I was typing in “Milton” and “murder” when my cell phone rang.