I’m good at finding people. But usually I have a few leads—place of business, last known residence, a credit card, a utility bill, ATM receipts, something. With Tane, I have two leads. One of them I’ll see in the hospital with Ethan this afternoon. God knows if my uncle will be in any condition to talk, or if he’ll be willing to say anything. Then again, he’s the one who sent me to find Tane.

Which leaves me with my second lead—Peaches. And he almost definitely won’t want to talk to me, especially if I try to crash his mother’s house again.

His mother … I close my eyes and concentrate, shutting out any distractions. Mrs. Daniels said something last night, just before Peaches and his two goons shepherded me out onto her back porch … I open my eyes, remembering. Quickly I do a Google search on my phone and confirm what I thought. Then I call Caesar.

He picks up on the second ring. “Please save me from contractors.”

“You clean?” I ask.

“I assume you’re referring to my phone. And yes.”

“Tane’s gone. FBI showed up this morning looking for him, and he bailed while I was talking to the agents in the front yard.”

Caesar is silent for a moment. “What do you want to do?”

“Can you come pick me up? I need a ride and want some backup.”

“Give me an hour. Where are we going?”

I start digging through my duffel bag, looking for clean clothes. “To a ribbon-cutting ceremony,” I say.

FIFTY MINUTES LATER Caesar rolls up the driveway in Frankie’s car, a cobalt blue ’71 Trans Am with a white racing stripe. Frankie and his father rebuilt it when Frankie was in high school, and since then Frankie has constantly tinkered with it, adding upgrades while maintaining its old-school, muscle-car charm. Ethan calls it the Frankenstein, a name that’s both dumb and a little clever. Even though Ethan says a pool of oil forms underneath the Frankenstein every time it’s parked, there is something viscerally pleasing about the rumble of the engine, the sense of power under the hood.

I leave Wilson inside the house with some extra kibble and lock the back door with a spare key Ethan keeps in his detached garage under a paint can. Then I get in the passenger seat of the Frankenstein, closing the door with a solid thunk. “Frankie must really like you if he lets you drive his car,” I say.

Caesar grunts. “Had to put in a Bluetooth sound system for him. Only way he’d give me the keys. Where to?”

“A new rec center in Vine City. It opens today. There’ll be speeches, probably some kids in their Sunday best standing for pictures, local press. Google says Li’l Whizz will be there.”

Caesar reverses down the driveway. “And Peaches?”