“I thought you were picking up Landry this afternoon.”

“Penn said he’d do it, since they asked him not to come in to work anymore.”

My mother frowns. “He didn’t tell me that.”

“A reporter showed up, and I guess the animal shelter doesn’t agree that all publicity is good publicity.” I glance past her at Doug. “Any chance this is a social visit?”

The fact that he’s still wearing his uniform doesn’t necessarily mean it can’t be, considering that he only lives across the street.

“Um …,” Doug says, articulate as usual.

Then I notice the still-sealed cotton swab lying on the kitchen island.

Uh-oh.

“That’s not for me, is it?”

“No.” My mother pulls out one of the bar stools. “Sit down, Beckett. Please.”

“You’re giving Penn a paternity test?” I squeak, knowing this is my fault. My wild conclusion jumping has infected my mother. “Daniela was never pregnant. This morning Penn showed me a selfie she took two days before I found the baby. There’s no way she was thirty weeks pregnant in that picture, Mom.”

“Please sit down.”

I sink onto the bar stool and let my backpack slide down my arm to thunk on the floor. “Don’t you need a warrant?” I demand, pinning Doug with an angry glare.

“Seriously?” He glances from me to my mother.

“No, we don’t need a warrant.” My mom sinks onto the center bar stool and twists to face me. “Penn’s still underage, and I’ve given my permission for the test.”

“Why?”

She exhales slowly.

“Because we have to identify that baby,” Doug says. “The whole department is under enormous pressure right now.”

“Reporters have been calling all week,” my mom adds. “Several of them want to do features on our ‘small-town tragedy.’ ”

“The governor called this morning,” Doug continues. “I never thought I’d get to talk to the governor, but I answered the phone, and he just started yelling. He’s pissed about the negative news coverage, and he said, and I quote, ‘I want a happy ending for this shit storm in one week, goddamn it.’ ”

Doug turns to my mother, who suddenly resembles a punctured balloon, the air rushing out all at once.

“What kind of happy ending does he expect to get at the end of a story about a dead baby?”

“Doug, will you give us a minute?” My mom stares at her hands as she picks at a hangnail.

“Sure. I’ll just wait outside.”

Because there’s no other way to give us privacy without going into one of the bedrooms. But instead of heading for the front porch, he goes out the kitchen door into the backyard.

“Mom? Why are you doing this?”