“Mitch, Peppy! Stay!” I was gasping for breath, but the dogs for once paid attention and sat. “Get them inside before Lummox here loses his head completely and shoots them,” I said to Mr. Contreras. “And take my handbag before this cretin steals my wallet. Can you call Freeman for me? Also, will you get a message to Morrell? I’m supposed to meet him for a picnic tomorrow. In case I can’t get out on time, will you call and tell him? His number’s in my electronic diary, there in my bag.”

Mr. Contreras was looking so bewildered I wasn’t sure he’d heard me, although he did pick up my handbag from where Lemour had dropped it. I started to repeat myself, but Lemour, furiously trying to straighten his tie, grabbed my arm and jerked me down the walk. He tried to throw me into the back of the squad car, but he wasn’t big enough to get the right leverage. The Du Page sheriff’s deputy took my left arm and whispered something apologetic as he pushed me behind the cage.

“Uh, Doug, uh, can you give me the key? I need to lock her to the seat, and she can’t ride with her arms behind her.”

Lemour ignored him and climbed behind the unmarked car’s wheel. The sheriff’s deputy looked at me uncertainly, but as Lemour started the engine he quickly shut the door on me and got into the passenger seat. Lemour took off so fast that my head banged into the metal cage.

Rage was building in me. I knew I had to keep it down. I was helpless—physically and in the situation—and if I let my fury ride me I’d give Lemour the opening he wanted to pound me into the ground. When he stopped at the light on Addison, I maneuvered my body so that I was sitting sideways in the narrow space with my legs stretched out across the width of the backseat. My shoulders were beginning to ache horribly.

The day had started so well, too. When I got back from swimming with the dogs, young Robbie was up and willing to make timid overtures to Peppy. Mr. Contreras prepared his breakfast specialty, French toast, and Robbie relaxed visibly as the old man urged seconds on him: perhaps it was the first time in his life his every mouthful hadn’t been monitored and criticized.