“Maybe I should call the police,” I said.

“Chief Burke would love that,” Michael said. “A missing toddler, with the town in the middle of what amounts to a crime wave by Caerphilly’s standards.”

“This missing toddler could be related to the crime wave,” I reminded him.

Though when I called, I couldn’t reach Chief Burke. Debbie Anne, the dispatcher, promised to tell all the patrol cars to keep an eye out for my Toyota and to tell Chief Burke as soon as she could reach him, but the minutes ticked into hours without a call back. And without a sign of Rob.

At about eleven-thirty, we finally heard a car pull into the driveway. I ran out to see Rob stepping out of my car.

“Where the hell have you been?” I asked.

Apparently Rob wasn’t expecting to find anyone up. He leaped into the air with surprise.

“Sssh,” he stage-whispered. “Timmy’s asleep in the back seat.”

I peered into the back seat of the Toyota. Timmy looked unharmed. He was clutching Kiki in one hand and Blanky in the other and had his head tilted in one of those impossible angles that would give an adult a sore neck for days but never seemed to bother little children.

“He’s fine,” Rob whispered.

“He’d better be,” I said. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Just after you left, I got a call from a friend who was flying into Dulles and needed a ride back here,” he said.

“You took Timmy with you to Dulles? It’s a four-hour round trip.”

“I didn’t figure it would be a problem—he’s in his car seat and everything. He slept most of the way back, actually. You should probably just let him sleep.”

“We can’t leave him out here in the car all night,” I said.

“I’ll carry the car seat in,” Michael offered. “Maybe we can ease him gently into the crib without waking him up.”

It almost worked. It would have worked, if Rob hadn’t knocked over the trash can just as we were all tiptoeing out of the room.

Twenty

Michael and I were basking on the beach, drinking fruity drinks with parasols stuck in them. The waiter came around and leaned over—I assumed he was going to ask if I wanted a refill. I smiled, and held up my nearly empty glass. The waiter reached out and said,

“KIKI!”

I’m not sure whether I fell out of bed or rolled out, but I found myself on the floor, ears ringing, while up on the bed Timmy continued to bellow “Kiki! Want Kiki! Where Kiki?” at the top of his lungs. Michael, who had apparently abandoned ship on the other side of the bed, growled something and strode out of the room.

I knew I should get up and try to comfort Timmy, but I was still gathering my wits when Michael returned.

“Here’s Kiki,” he said. “You left him in your crib. Now go back to sleep.”

He sounded a little cranky. I didn’t blame him. I was very cranky.