Jenks visably swallowed. “The cat saved my son’s life,” he said, shaking. “We aren’t leaving it here to starve or die at the pound.”

“Jenks …” I protested, watching Rex pace under Jax’s flitting path, her head up and her steps light. “Someone will take her in. Look how sweet she is.” I clasped my hands so I wouldn’t pick her up. “Sure,” I said, my resolve weakening when Rex fell over to look cute and harmless, her little white belly in the air. “She’s all soft and sweet now, but she’s going to get bigger. And then there will be yelling. And screaming. And soft kitty fur in my garden.”

Jenks frowned. “I’m not going to keep her. I’ll find a home for her. But she saved my son’s life, and I won’t let her starve here.”

I shook my head, and while Jax cheered, his father gingerly scooped the kitten up. Rex gave a token wiggle before settling into the crook of his arm. Jenks had her both safe and secure—as if she was a child.

“Let me take her,” I said, holding out my hands.

“I’ve got her okay.” Jenks’s angular face was pale, making him look as if he was going to pass out. “Jax, it’s cold out. Get in Ms. Morgan’s purse until we get to the motel.”

“Hell no!” Jax said, shocking me as he lit on my shoulder. “I’m not going to ride in no purse. I’ll be fine with Rex. Tink’s diaphragm, Dad. Where do you think I’ve been sleeping for the last four days?”

“Tink’s diaph—” Jenks sputtered. “Watch your mouth, young man.”

This was not happening.

Jax dropped down to snuggle in the hollow of Rex’s tummy, almost disappearing in the soft kitten fur. Jenks took several breaths, his shoulders so tense you could crack eggs on them.

“We have to go,” I whispered. “We can talk about this later.”

Jenks nodded, and with the wobbling pace of a drunk made his way to the front of the exhibit, Jenks holding the kitten and me opening doors. The scent of books and carpet made the air smell dead as we crept into the gift shop. I fearfully looked for flashing red and blue lights outside, relieved at finding only a comforting darkness and a quiet cobble street.

I said nothing when Jenks awkwardly got his wallet out from his back pocket with one hand and left every last dollar of cash I had given him on the counter. He nodded respectfully to the camera behind the mirror, and we left as we had come in.

We didn’t see anyone on the way back to the parking lot, but I didn’t take one good breath until the van door slammed shut behind me. Fingers shaking, I started the engine, carefully backing up and finding my way to the strip.