Val shook off the contact but stared at the page. We stood there as Cherish attempted to unravel the mysteries of fractions, speaking slowly, enunciating clearly, skirting the line between patience and patronizing.

Not losing her patience during Valerie’s lapses of concentration. Which were frequent.

The girl tapped her feet, drummed her hands on various body parts, wriggled, craned her neck, sighed a lot. Her eye contact was hummingbird-flighty and she kept glancing over at us, shooting her gaze to the sky, then down on the ground. The book. The house. A squirrel that scampered up the redwood fence.

I’d gone to school for too long to resist diagnosis.

Cherish Daney stayed on track, finally got the girl to focus on a single problem until she achieved success.

“There you go! Great, Val! Let’s do another one.”

“No, I’m okay, I get it now.”

“I think one more’s a good idea.”

Emphatic head shake.

“You’re sure, Val?”

Without answering, Valerie ran back toward the house. Dropped the workbook and cried out in frustration, bent and retrieved it, flung the screen door open and disappeared.

“Sorry for the interruption,” said Cherish. “She’s a terrific kid but she needs a lot of structure.”

“A.D.D.?” I said.

“It’s that obvious, huh?” Now she stared at me with wide blue eyes. “I know who you are. The psychologist who saw Rand.”

“Alex Delaware.” I held out my hand.

She took it readily. “We met at the jail.”

“Yes, we did, Reverend.”

“I guess,” she said, “our paths cross at sad junctures.”

“Occupational hazard,” I said. “Both our occupations.”

“I suppose . . . actually, I’m not a minister, just a teacher.”

I smiled. “Just a teacher?”

“It comes in handy,” she said. “For homeschooling. We homeschool the kids.”

Milo said, “Foster kids?”

“That’s right.”

“How long do they stay with you?” I said.

“No set time. Val was supposed to be with us for sixty days while her mother was evaluated for detox. Then her mother O.D.’d and died and all of Val’s relatives live in Arizona. She barely knows them— her mom ran away from home. Top of that, they weren’t interested in taking her. So she’s been with us nearly a year.”

“How many fosters do you care for?”

“It varies. My husband’s shopping over at Value Club. We buy in bulk.”

“What was the arrangement with Rand Duchay?” said Milo.

“The arrangement?”

“With the state.”

Cherish Daney shook her head. “That wasn’t a formal situation, Lieutenant. We knew Rand was being released and had nowhere to go so we took him in.”

“The county had no problem with his being here?” said Milo. “With kids?”

“It never came up.” She stiffened. “You’re not going to cause problems for us, are you? It wouldn’t be fair to the kids.”

“No, ma’am. It was just a question that came to mind.”