“Okay, okay, okay,” I mumbled, going to the back door to let in Dad’s latest safeguard—a lumbering boxer with too-big feet and more slobber than you could stuff into twenty dogs’ mouths. Dad thought his name was Hugh, and I was fine with that. But really it was Hue—a nod to Peyton’s rainbow. I liked being the only one who knew that. I opened the door and Hue bounded in, stomping across both of my feet on the way by. “Ouch. Good to see you, too, buddy. Guess you’re on duty.” I reached down to scratch his ears, but he was circling me too fast to catch. I laughed, despite myself.

I hadn’t been lobbying for a dog, and part of me thought this was more overkill in the Kill Family Homestead Arsenal of Self-Defense, but if I were being totally honest, I slept a hell of a lot better when Hue was beside me than when he wasn’t.

I sat on the floor and let Hue leap and bump and cover me with kisses, trying to catch an ear here or a neck there for a good scratch, then finally stretched out on my back, giving in to the crazy dog frenzy until I heard Dad set the alarm, and then the click of the front door closing behind him.

“Okay, okay, dinner,” I said, pulling myself up off the floor and filling Hue’s bowl with kibble. He dove in eagerly, making disgusting crunching and slurping sounds, just like always. “Bon appétit,” I said. “I’ve got work to do.”

I went upstairs, detouring to paw through Dad’s dresser for the thousandth time. Nothing but socks and underwear and T-shirts and an old pair of swim trunks that I had literally never seen him wear. But nothing that answered a single question, or raised a single doubt. To any casual observer, Dad was just a normal, kind-of-boring dad.

Which I knew was a fucking lie. Normal, kind-of-boring dads didn’t hide potentially deadly secrets under their desks in a little locked box.

In my desk drawer, under the black notebook where I’d stashed the letter Peyton had left for me, was a pocket-sized spiral notebook. I opened it and was immediately showered with colors. Purple, sea green, black, orange, red, cornflower blue. Row after row of numbers. Every possible combination I could think of that might have meaning to Dad.

Sea green, bronze, mauve, melon, silver. Mom’s birthday. Neon pink, purple, mauve, melon, pink. His birthday. Pink, black-and-white checkered, mauve, bronze, cornflower blue. Mine.