“And you can,” Michael said. “What if Karen feels the same way and is off doing what she thinks is the best thing for her and Timmy’s future?”

“So we trust Karen?” I said, after a bit.

“We keep our minds open,” Michael said. “And how about if I drop by the station tomorrow and make Chief Burke aware of our concerns about Timmy’s safety?”

“You think he won’t listen to me?”

“I think maybe he’ll be more inclined to listen to me when I do my concerned, overprotective husband routine. And did I mention that I offered to give Dr. Driscoll a ride tomorrow? I’m sure he won’t mind coming into the station for a few minutes to look stern and disapproving if the chief doesn’t take me seriously enough.”

“And since Dr. Driscoll is Karen’s department head,” I said, nodding.

“More important, Dr. Driscoll’s department ultimately oversees the Camcops, with whom Chief Burke is working so hard to build a more congenial relationship . . . .”

“Oh, excellent,” I said.

“Normally I like to avoid all this town versus college political stuff,” Michael said, shaking his head. “But this is serious.”

“Thanks,” I said. We folded and hung in amicable silence for a few minutes, until I came across a t-shirt I’d never seen before.

“This isn’t yours, is it?” I asked, holding it up.

“No,” he said. “What’s ‘Death Cab for Cutie’?”

“A band Rob likes,” I said. “I don’t mind him using the washer and dryer, but I draw the line at doing his laundry for him.”

“It could be the t-shirt Timmy puked on,” Michael said.

“Puked? When? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“Relax,” Michael said. “This morning, before you got up. It was only a little bit, and it only happened because Rob was tossing him in the air too soon after breakfast. He’s fine.”

Okay, Timmy was fine. But if taking care of kids was going to turn me into a nervous wreck . . .

I’d worry about that later. We finished folding all the laundry and Michael offered to put it all away. The laundry room was empty—well, except for the snakes. I stuck out my tongue at them—after all, they’d been flicking theirs at me for hours now. They didn’t seem to notice.

Twenty-Four

Up in the kitchen, Rose Noire was fixing dinner—for the rest of us as well as Timmy. Mother, of course, was supervising. I heard a lively game of tag going on in the hallway and went out to see. I found Dr. Blake sitting on the hall bench, watching as Dad, Rob, and Timmy raced up the stairs.

“So,” he said, when the giggling had retreated to the second floor. “I understand you had quite an exciting day!”

I blinked in surprise, and glanced quickly over my shoulder to make sure he was talking to me.

“That’s one word for it,” I said. “I actually think ‘lousy’ is a better adjective for any day that includes finding a dead body.”