What about the cabinets under the counter? He opens a door, revealing boxes of candy. The shelves are about eighteen inches apart, a couple of feet deep, and maybe about four feet wide. Even if he wanted to hide there, there’s no way he’d fit. But Moxie’s built like a sprite.

“Okay, Moxie, right now we’re going to play a game. We need to hide even better from the bad guys. And if we are really, really quiet, they won’t catch us.”

“I’m good at hiding,” Moxie offers.

“That’s why you get to hide first,” Parker says. “But you can’t come out unless you hear me tell you to.” He imagines a future where he’s dead. “Or the police. But no one else.”

He can see Moxie thinking about this, her head tilted to one side. What are the chances that she will actually stay hidden, that she won’t get bored and come out, even if he leaves her with a stash of candy?

And then Parker thinks of a solution, because it’s the same trick that always works on him. “Forget it,” he says, turning away. “I don’t think you can do it. The minute you get in the cupboard, you’re going to want to get out again. Or you’ll make a noise. You’re not old enough. You’re not patient enough.”

She tugs at his hand. “I can do it. I’ll be really, really quiet. I’ll be like a teensy little mouse.” She pinches her lips closed.

He eyes her, his expression fake-dubious, which echoes his real internal doubts. His mom always talks about sugar highs. How long until Moxie is literally bouncing off the walls?

Still, he opens the cupboards, and pushes boxes out of the way, and has her slither back on her belly.

“Okay. Now it’s time to make it so that no one can see you.” He begins stacking boxes in front of her, starting at her feet. If it were him, he’d feel claustrophobic, but she doesn’t make a sound, just watches him with her bright blue eyes.

“But where are you going to hide, Parker?”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ve got a really good place picked out.”

Her brows draw together. “But where?”

“It’s a secret,” he says, putting a last stack of walnut fudge in front of her face. As soon as he does, he’s sorry that he hasn’t kissed her or touched her one last time. “Are you good in there?” He tries to keep his voice from sounding strangled.

“Yeah,” she whispers.

“And remember, don’t come out until you hear me or the cops, okay?”

“Okay.”

He thinks of another tactic to keep her hidden. “I’ll bet you that I am the better hider. I’ll bet you five dollars.”

“I’m going to win!” Her voice is muffled by the boxes.