The petite, strawberry-blond Penny was the perfect person for the job. The twenty-nine-year-old was sweet, she was bright, she was compassionate. She had grown up being teased about her maiden name, which was Penny Date. Boys would ask if that was how much she charged. As a result, Penny had the thickest skin of anyone Coffey had ever met. She could run for public office and win. But she wanted to help people and not, as she put it, “run a football team whose primary adversary is itself.”

Penny pulled up in her old red pickup. The doorman opened the battered door. It groaned.

“Sorry, Lowell,” Penny said as he climbed in. “It isn’t exactly the red-carpet treatment.”

“It’s charming,” Coffey replied diplomatically. The truth was, the truck smelled of fertilizer, and there were what Bob Herbert called HVICs on the windshield—high velocity insect casualties. The only thing charming about the vehicle was the driver. Penny’s accent had little silver bells in it. Her smile gleamed like those little silver bells. And her eyes were as brilliant as the sunshine. If she were not married, he would be engaged in a very serious long-distance courtship.

“The truck is functional,” Penny said. “Unfortunately, I hadn’t quite mastered some of the narrow turns when that happened,” she added, nodding to the dented door.

“But you have now?” Coffey asked anxiously as he buckled himself in.

Penny laughed. That was music, too. “I wouldn’t put Gaby in here if I hadn’t,” she replied as she pulled away from the hotel.

“Gabrielle must be what, now—a year old?” Coffey asked.

“Thirteen and a half months,” Penny said. “And she’s a peach.”

“I have no doubt,” Coffey replied. “What about your husband? How is he doing?”

“Charlie is doing great,” Penny said. “He quit the parks service seven months ago and became a self-employed gardener.”

“Which explains the truck instead of a minivan,” Coffey said.

“We’ve got a fleet of three!” Penny laughed. “Charlie just couldn’t take it anymore. He spent more time figuring out how to implement budget cuts in his field crew than he did actually landscaping. As he put it, ‘I was tired of trying to move heaven. I’d rather move earth.’ ”

“We’ve got that same problem at Op-Center,” Coffey said. “Do you work with him at all?”

“On weekends I use this truck to help him transport trees, shrubs, and soil around the city and suburbs,” Penny said. “I have to say, I enjoy getting my hands dirty in a wholesome way.”

“It probably takes your mind off the more unpleasant things in life,” Coffey said.

“It does,” Penny agreed. “But I found that it also serves a purpose in my own work. When I drive up to meetings or detainment centers, people don’t automatically assume I’m a homemaker who is using ARRO as something to fill the daytime hours.”