“Oh, yeah! Mom got me a cool Sonic Sleuth for my straight-A report card. It’s got a range of three hundred feet, Dad. Grandma Rose and I tested it. You’ll have to check it out.”

“You know I want to, buddy. Can you go find out who the guy is?” August asked. “I don’t like the idea of a stranger in the house.”

“Sure, Dad. Be back in a minute,” Charlie said.

“But don’t let him see you, okay?”

“Dad. Of course they won’t see me. I’m a superspy.” There was a clonk as Charlie set the phone down on the floor and pattered away.

August turned to Xandria, wondering if he had overstayed his welcome on her phone. “Sorry. I swear I’ll be off in a minute.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Xandria said, waving him away. “But you’re going to owe me.”

“I hear this airline has an amazing wine list.”

“Perfect,” Xandria said.

August listened as Charlie’s phone rattled around on the floor. A few seconds later, he picked it up, wheezing. He kept repeating something, but August couldn’t make out what he was saying.

“Slow down,” August said. “What is it? What’s going on?”

“. . . g . . . gu . . .”

“Son, you’ve got to breathe,” August said, remembering a handful of late-night trips to the emergency room with Charlie when the boy was younger. Two years had passed without incident, as far as he knew anyway, and August wondered what would cause the problem to come back. “Breathe with me. In. And out. In. And out. Just like when you were little.”

Charlie’s wheezing relaxed as he followed his father’s instruction. Then it worsened again. August heard the phone rattling. Was he running? No. Crawling. Crawling where? Why?

“Dad . . .”

August felt a lump in his throat. Something was horribly wrong. “Hey, Superspy. Give me your report. Is Grandma Rose okay?”

“Dad . . . please help,” Charlie said, trying to calm down. He was being as brave as he could. “The guy tied up Grandma Rose, and he’s holding a gun to her head.”

August sighed, then shook his head. He’d almost bought it, hook, line, and sinker. It wasn’t the first time Charlie had dreamed up something disastrous. Once, when he was four, he claimed a polar bear was trapped in the refrigerator. Only a few days before the divorce was finalized, he’d declared the backyard a nuclear war zone full of flesh-eating zombies. Maybe April was right to limit his television intake.

“Son, you know better than that,” August said. “Guns are not a joke.”

He turned to Xandria and gave her a you-know-boys shake of his head. Her clear blue eyes had darkened to gray.

“What if the boy isn’t joking?” she whispered.