“Hey, Tracy. I’m on my way to pick up my daughter from school.” The rain splashed my shoes and pants. Tracy carried an umbrella and wore black rubber boots. He waved and smiled, lumbering diagonally up my lawn, a brown grocery bag in his hand. “I made iced sun tea today and mozzarella meatball subs. I’ve got too much.”

Thanks to Alice and Tracy, I wouldn’t have to throw anything together for dinner.

“Thank you. My husband loved your deer jerky. I didn’t even get a chance to try it.”

“I’ll bring more by.”

“Oh, no, that’s—”

“Listen,” he said. “I’ll be quick, but there’s one other thing. About your son.”

My blood chilled. “What is it?”

“Last night I was out late, around 2 a.m. I was taking Rosy on a walk. I saw some teenagers screwing around by the Ollers property. The boys ran. I didn’t get a good look at any faces, but I wanted to let you know in case he’s sneaking out. I ran into Chrissy Ollers this morning and she told me her baby cougar is gone. Someone cut one of her wires so there was a hole small enough for Luna to get through.”

“A cougar on the loose?” I gazed down the street at the large lawns, the oak trees, the unkempt hedges, the cars in driveways and parked on the street. A cougar could be hiding anywhere. “I didn’t hear anything from the school. Wouldn’t they send out an alert?”

“I think Chrissy wants to keep it quiet. She doesn’t want anyone poking in her business.”

“You mean, she didn’t contact police or animal control?”

“I don’t think so. People in this town, well, they don’t like government in their business.”

“How is a cougar on the loose a political issue? It could hurt someone.”

“Nah. She’s just a baby cub for now. She prolly won’t survive on her own in that forest even. Still, never turn your back on a cat.” He laughed.

“What?”

“It’s a saying. Cats love to sneak up. Anyway, they’re looking for her. I’m gonna join the search party.”

“Please don’t expect me to not contact the school.”

Gazing down at the puddles, he said, “If they go digging around as to how it got loose and anyone’s got cameras, your son might get dragged in.” He was only sixteen, but I’m sure the system could screw him somehow. Put him in a juvie detention center. Like Mother, like son.

“Are you threatening my family?”

“Me? No,” he said, and he wasn’t. He was warm and breezy. “I’m not a fan of soap operas, is all.”