“We see that sometimes,” the social worker said. “They feel abandoned by their parent and cling to the caregiver. He’ll get over it.”

I found myself frowning. Cling to the caregiver? Get over it? Wasn’t it possible that Timmy had become just a little fond of Auntie Meg? And for that matter, wasn’t it even more probable that Timmy was objecting not to the idea of seeing Mommy but to the prospect of some stranger tearing him away from the place and people who had become familiar over the past few days? Not even a very friendly looking stranger, though I suppose I should make allowances for the fact that she’d been awakened well past midnight to come and get him.

And she was trying to reunite Timmy with Karen—the same thing I’d been working on so hard over the last several days. And it wasn’t as if I’d never see him again. Odds were he’d need a place to stay for another night or two. After all, even if they didn’t detain Karen for some reason, she couldn’t very well go home to her trashed apartment at the ghastly College Arms. She could come to stay with us—plenty of room—and let me and Dad and the rest of the tribe look after her and Timmy for a bit.

“Come on, Timmy,” I said. I pried his arms loose and then took a firm grip on the hand that wasn’t holding Kiki. “We’ll go down together to see your mommy.”

“But we’re not finished with her,” the DEA agent and the USF&WS agent said in unison.

Chief Burke exploded.

“Not finished!” he roared. “Damn it, these are honest, God-fearing, law-abiding citizens of my county. They’ve been answering your questions for three hours, and if you want the continued cooperation of the Caerphilly Police Department, you treat them properly, you hear?”

“Don’t worry, Chief,” my grandfather said, popping out of the dining room where another set of agents had been interrogating him. “A little persecution from misguided authorities will make for a much better story when I’m editing my special on the finch-smuggling ring.”

The chief scowled at him.

“And the excellent cooperation from the Caerphilly police will make such a wonderful, enlightened contrast,” Michael added, popping in from wherever they’d been interrogating him.

“Definitely,” Dr. Blake said.

“Sammy,” the chief shouted. The young deputy also popped in, as if he’d been waiting for his cue. “You take Ms. Langslow and Master Timothy down to the station to see his momma. The rest of us will be coming along as soon as we can.”

“But Chief—” one of the Feds began.

“And anyone who has an objection is welcome to leave now, and file a complaint with his or her agency head and the Caerphilly Town Council in the morning.”

Nobody cared to voice an objection, so the various interrogators and suspects began shuffling out to the cars. Scout, the hound dog, came over and thrust his head at the chief to be petted. Scout had arrived with the police and followed the chief from room to room for the past couple of hours. From the calmer look that came over the chief’s face as he was petting Scout, I had a feeling the dog had already found a new home.