Sully pauses. “Who are they?” I tell him the full names and hear him typing on his keyboard, and then he sighs down the line. “Okay, none of this is public record so don’t throw me under the bus here. Not that you ever have before, but I’m just saying. There are old drug charges—quite a few of them. And, okay, there’s something else.”

My stomach clenches. I’m seconds away from finding out I was right, but I know I won’t feel triumph.

“There was a death in the home,” he says. “About three years ago. Police attended. It looks like the Floyds had another kid, just a little guy. He died in their care.”

There’s a long gap where neither of us say anything. White noise fizzes in my head like static. How the hell did Family Services not know about this? But we’d had no involvement with the Floyds prior to Buster. We hadn’t—but Minerva had.

“Minerva hid this!” I say. “Oh my God, she was their Addictions worker—she must have known!”

“She’s a piece of work. I’ll get a hold of the coroner’s report. You keep pushing on your end.”

We hang up, and I rest one hand on the fire hydrant as it glints in the sun. Poor Buster. Time and again, it’s an uphill battle to get a child any proper protection. First Ruth shows up pregnant. And now this. My stomach twists. I can’t let another child down. This can’t happen again. I won’t let it.

RUTH

When I get back to the loft after lunchtime, Chase is watching a Rollerblading show on TV. He’s sprawled on the couch in his shorts and a T-shirt with a beanie pulled far back on his forehead. I guess when he called it an off-season, he wasn’t kidding. We should all be models, get paid shitloads, sit around all day.

“Hey,” he says warily. “You’re back.”

I hover by the front door. “I met with Alex. She said that it’s fine for me to stay.”

His face turns into a big question mark. “You went to her work?”

“No, I saw her at the coffee shop downtown. She was having coffee with … she was on her way back to the office.” I know enough to save some details for when I might need them.

“Well, that’s good.” He moves to allow me a space on the couch.

I venture forward and sit on the farthest cushion from him, next to my now military-folded bedding from last night.

“So. You don’t mind if I stay?” I ask him.

He keeps his eyes on the television. “Whatever Alex wants is fine with me.”