“Perfect,” Decker said. “Go for it.”

I exhaled. “I’m still inexperienced in these kinds of things. I’d like a little help.”

“No problem, pumpkin. I have time. Let’s go check it out.”

“I know I’m bordering on fiction here. Still, aren’t you the one who always said trust your gut?”

“Especially in this crazy world. Let me change and I’ll leave a note for Rina. Then we’ll be off.”

“Great.” I smiled. “Thanks so much.”

“For what?”

“For coming with me. But mostly for listening to me.”

“Are you kidding?” He tousled my hair. “Give me a minute.”

“Take your time.” I smiled and really meant it, because Dad had this expression, this absolutely glorious expression, of respect in his eyes—a look that said more than a million words.

I got a hug from Louise. “Come in, come in. It’s always nice when you drop by.”

“You remember my father, don’t you, Louise?”

“Yes, of course. Please come in. … Is it Sergeant Decker?”

“Lieutenant,” I corrected. We walked inside.

Over the past months, Louise Sanders’s living room had been taken over by baby paraphernalia. Plush toys had replaced the throw pillows on the brown leather couch. The coffee table was crowded with plastic squeaky animals and baby books. A mesh playpen stood next to the piano, milk bottles all over the place. Still, the space was pleasant, brimming over with light and mid-morning summer heat. The windows were open, but there was no discernible breeze.

Louise had highlighted her gray hair with some blond streaks. She’d also dropped a couple of pounds. She was taking care of herself and that was good. Maybe I was flattering myself, but I liked to think that I played a small part in that piece of theater. Today, Louise wore denim shorts and a boat-neck white shirt, sandals on her feet.

“Can I get either of you anything to drink?”

Before I could answer, Sarah walked in. Her blond hair had been cut short for the summer, so now she was all cheeks and face, all round and pink. She wore a loose blue cotton dress; her fingernails and toenails were painted silver. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at me, then around the room. “Where’s”—she struggled to get the words out—“Where’s … Ko-by?”

“Sarah, say hello first,” Louise told her.

“Hello.”

“Hello, Sarah,” I answered. “Koby is out running this morning.”

“Where’s he running to?”

I smiled. “He’s running a race.”

“Did he win?”

“It’s not that kind of race. You run it to see how fast you can run. Today, he’s running a twenty K. That means he’s running for twelve miles.”

Her mouth opened. “That’s a lot of miles.”

“Yes, it is.”

“You didn’t go with him?” Dad asked me.

“They started at seven to beat the heat. Thanks, but I’ll pass.” To Sarah, I said, “Is Ella sleeping?”

Sarah nodded.

Louise said, “I just put her down—”

“I put her down,” Sarah piped in.