Karina comes out and hands her mother her purse.

Mrs. Bailey fishes out pen and paper. “Show me that address again.” She reads the address off Ree’s arm and writes it down on a piece of paper.

She snaps her purse shut. She looks at her watch. “Come on, Miss Piper,” she says, opening the passenger door of Henry. “We need to go on a fact-finding mission before that animal shelter closes.”

Suddenly, I remember something. “Hang on just a sec,” I say, and race to our room.

We go up one street and then down another. I see Jerry and his cat, Lucky, sitting in the doorway of an empty store. Some people in fancy clothes are smiling, talking to him and stroking Lucky.

A little farther on, I see a guy I recognize from the park and his two little dogs. The dogs are bundled up in coats. He’s holding a cardboard sign.

Mrs. B stops for a red light. She shakes her head and says, “I like dogs a lot too, and I guess I understand that they’re all these folks have, but I just don’t think I’d give up living inside with a roof over my head for one.”

I think about something Linda told me the other day at the park when I was looking for Ree. I say to Mrs. B, “When people see them on the street with their dog or cat”—I want to make sure I include Lucky—“they aren’t just street people, they’re real people. Most everybody can relate to having a pet they love. Having their dog or cat helps them feel like they’re important, even if it’s just to their dog.” I think some more on what Linda said. I want to make Mrs. B understand. “Linda says everybody needs another heartbeat on their side.”

Mrs. Bailey nods. The light turns green. “You’ve given me something to think about, Piper.”

Finally, we pull into the parking lot of East Valley Humane Society. It’s not a dark little cinder-block building like the one in Cyprus Point. This one is big and has lots of windows. As soon as we get to the front door, though, I hear the howls and yelps and yips of desperate dogs. Is Baby’s one of those voices?

We walk into the brightly lit lobby. It’s clean but still smells a little like pee and Pine-Sol.

“What can I help you with?” a woman at the desk asks. She has blue streaks in her dark hair and a pierced nose.

“Do you have a little dog here you picked up from Mercy Memorial Hospital this morning?” Mrs. B asks.

The woman nods. “Oh yes. It’s not every day you get a call that a dog is running loose inside a hospital.” She frowns just a little. “Is he yours?”

“No,” Mrs. B says, “but we do know who he belongs to.”