“Story time,” the librarian muttered, like it was a curse word. Belatedly, she realized we were still standing there and remembered why. “Right. The reports. If you think they’ll help in the search for the missing girl, I suppose I can pull together some notes for you, once I avert the storypocalypse over there.”

The dark-haired girl with pigtails was the only one sitting quietly, the book the librarian had given her hugged tight to her chest. The rest of the children appeared to be planning a coup.

“When might we expect these ‘notes’?” Jude asked, making liberal use of air quotes.

“Bright and early tomorrow morning,” the librarian replied. “Promise. In the meantime…” She walked to a nearby shelf and fluttered her fingers along the spines of book after book until she found the one she was looking for and pulled it from the shelf.

“A History of Hunter’s Point?” I read the book’s title as she held it out to me.

“Written by yours truly,” the librarian said. “Nonfiction. You should give it a try.”

I closed my fingertips around the book an instant before one of the kids at story time threw up on the brightly colored carpet.

“Don’t look now,” Jude whispered as the librarian bolted toward the puking child, “but the cavalry has arrived.” There was a slight pause. “The cavalry is Gabriel.”

I turned my head, but kept my body still. Gabriel had entered through a side door. I expected him to be looking for us.

He wasn’t.

Kidnapping, the sheriff had taunted me. Assault.

Gabriel walked with his head down and disappeared behind one of the shelves.

“That’s not suspicious,” Jude declared. “That’s not suspicious at all!”

Jude and Free only knew that the sheriff had mentioned Gabriel having a criminal record. They didn’t know what that record entailed. I wasn’t used to keeping secrets from them, and I wasn’t entirely sure why I had kept this one.

The sheriff might have been lying.

He might have been telling the truth. I reached out and laid a hand on Jude’s arm before he could start strolling in Gabriel’s direction.

“We should go,” I said.

“Should we?” Free was clearly on the verge of whipping out the Creed. I knew that if I had told her what the sheriff had accused Gabriel of, dragging her away from a chance for answers would have been every bit as impossible as coercing Duchess into the bath. I wanted answers, too, but I doubted that Gabriel would respond any better than I did to being cornered. When I faced him down, when I asked my questions—I’d do it one-on-one.