The rest of the building stood firm, though looking a bit like an accordion on one side. All around them firefighters were still checking the perimeter and the hot spots. A cop was helping to keep looky-lous at a distance and out of harm’s way, and on a summer’s morning near O.B. there were many of them, in a variety of dress. Joggers, construction workers, students, bums, rich patrons of the galleys nearby…

In the midst of all the chaos, Joe strode over to his city-issued truck, opened the driver’s door and set the cat on the seat. “Don’t tear up anything.”

Socks gave him her back and stuck her tail in the air.

Damn thing didn’t remember him, a reminder that when it came to his past, not many did. He slammed the truck door and put his hand to the front of his T-shirt, which not only came away muddy, but sticky with the blood now flowing freely from his deep scratches. “Nice,” he said to Socks through the window, and wiped his hand on the thighs of his coveralls before flipping through his clipboard.

“You looking for the owner info?” Kenny asked, coming up behind him. His face was already clean. Joe had no idea how he did that. “Two sisters,” Kenny said, consulting a sheet of paper. “You going to call, or should I?”

“I’ll do it.” Joe glanced at the names, though he already knew what he’d see. Tina Wilson and Camille Abrams—Summer’s aunt and mother.

“Chief says he spoke to both in the middle of the night when the fire was still raging. They mentioned they have a vagrant who sometimes sleeps here. The old guy’s been known to leave odd things, or to try to start a campfire. Camille Abrams was reportedly pretty shook up, and didn’t stay long. But I’m surprised she hasn’t made another appearance in the light of day.”

Joe knew exactly why Camille had been shaken up, and why she hadn’t made another appearance. She’d lost her husband here. With a heavy heart, he took his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed the number listed. She answered on the first ring. “Mrs. Abrams, this is—”

“Is this about the warehouse?” She sounded anxious. “Did you find my cat? She was there with me last night and then vanished, and finally I had to leave without her, but I’ve been worried sick—”

“I have Socks.”

“Oh, thank God. How’d you know her name?”

“I’m Joe Walker, Mrs. Abrams. Do you remember me?”

“Joe Walker…”

“I lived next door to you growing up.”

Silence.