I looked out through the glass doors. There were so many people on our lawn. Tramping down our grass. I wondered if it would ever stand up again, and I wondered what I should say. If Carl stole Rowan, he was not a nice man. But he was nice to me under the bridge. He was nice to Rowan. He was extra nice to Girl.

“He called me ‘Little Fawn,’ ” I said. “He called Rowan ‘Magic Boy.’ ”

She opened a notepad. Her pen made a scritching sound.

“Did you feel afraid?”

I sucked on my bottom lip.

“Did he ever say or do anything that made you feel uncomfortable, Maisy? Nervous? You know, get that squiggly feeling in your belly.”

I shook my head. That was a small lie. Carl did make me feel squiggly in my middle. Real squiggly. But if I told her, Rowan might get hurt. More bad things might happen. I wanted to tell things the best way. It was better to make Carl friendly.

“Can you guess Carl’s age?”

“Old,” I said.

“Old like me or even older like, um, Detective Aiken?”

I frowned.

“The man who was just here talking to your mom. That’s Detective Aiken. He has little foxes on his tie.”

I was right. They were foxes. “More old like you,” I said. “He’s smart, too.”

“Smart?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“How can you tell?”

“I just can.” Because Rowan said it.

“Thank you, Maisy. Do you know what color his hair was?”

“Shiny color. Black and white shiny. And clumpy. And he has a big beard with things in it. Sparkly silvery things.” I didn’t tell her about the metal piece he put in my hair. I could feel the corner of it sticking my leg through my pocket. “And he laughs a whole lot. Like someone is telling jokes in his ear. His eyes squish up. It made us laugh too. Laughing about nothing. Me and Rowan.” I started smiling, even though it was only Rowan that laughed. It sounded better if it was both of us.

“That’s a wonderful description, Maisy. Thank you. Sometimes laughter is catchy, isn’t it?” She wrote more down. Her notebook was the same kind as the fox-tie man’s. “Do you remember what he was wearing?”

“A lot!” I pinched my face to make my smile go away. “He must’ve been real warm.”

“Like?”

“A sweater and a coat and pants and fancy shoes.”

“Fancy?”

“Special shoes. Black with little laces.” Telly never had shoes like that. He only wore work boots. Or sometimes sneakers. Once before he left he put his sneakers in the washing machine. They slapped around in there like they were fighting. Gloria said with all the grease they’d ruin the dryer. I watched until it stopped. They came out white and clean.