A dead bird in your path is a sign to turn your ass around. There are few superstitions surrounding sparrows specifically, though, meaning the warning wasn’t exactly a red flag. Maybe burnt orange. I decided it meant there was something worth investigating here.

I knocked on Childs’s door. There were no flyers in the box now, but the town house was dark and no one answered. I rapped again . . .

“He’s out.”

The neighbor had a trowel in her hand and wore knee guards.

“He’s back from wherever he went,” she said. “But he just stepped out.”

“Oh. I . . .” I checked my watch.

“He’ll probably be home at any moment. Why don’t I fix you a coffee while you wait. I could use a break from the war of the weeds.”

“And I’d love to take you up on that, but I was just popping by on my way past. Thank you, though.”

My cell buzzed with an incoming text. I ignored it, and thanked the woman again before heading back to my car.

“I spoke to him about you,” she called after me.

Shit.

“He said his sister has taken a turn for the worse, and she’s in care. He appreciated your concern and said if you stopped by, I was to ask for your number again. He’s misplaced it.”

So Childs knew my story was bullshit. Huh. I scrawled my number on a scrap of notepaper. As I handed it to her, my cell buzzed with another text.

“I really do need to run,” I said, “but please give him that and thank you for all your help.”

—

When I got to my car, I checked my phone. It was Gabriel. First message: Where are you? Second message: Olivia . . .

I replied with one word: Working.

He responded immediately. Where are you?

Out. Working.

Where?

Chicago.

His response took a moment. I imagined him starting to seethe, possibly hitting a wrong key or two, cursing me as he fixed it.

Olivia . . .

Gabriel . . .

I didn’t wait for a reply, just quick-typed: I’m working on the case, as requested.

I didn’t tell you to leave.

Am I not allowed to leave?

Pause. Pause. Pause. Thinking through an answer. Well, no, I’m sure he didn’t need to think about it. His answer would be that I should be right where he left me just in case he needed me. However, being a smart man, he did not say that.

Where exactly are you?

In my car.

Five seconds. My phone rang.

I sent one last text. Working the case. No time to chat. Talk later.

I turned off the ringer and left the phone vibrating in my bag as I pulled from the curb.

—