Mr. Smith stood on Jason’s lap, peering out the window at the commotion. The cat’s ears were straight up, its tail twitching nervously. In the back, Ree already had the seatbelt unfastened and was staring at him expectantly.

“Can you get out of this side of the car, love?” he asked quietly.

She nodded, staring at the throng of strangers on the sidewalk. “Daddy?”

“It’s okay, honey. Those are reporters. It’s their job to ask questions, kind of like it’s Daddy’s job to ask questions. Except I write up stuff in the paper, while these reporters talk about it on TV.”

She looked at him again, the anxiety building in her drawn features.

He twisted in the driver’s seat, touching her hand. “They have to stay on the sidewalk, honey. It’s the law. So, they can’t come inside our home. However, when we get out of the car, it’s gonna be loud. They’re gonna start asking all sorts of crazy questions all at once, and get this—they don’t raise their hands.”

This caught her attention. “They don’t raise their hands?”

“No. They talk right over the top of one another. No taking turns, no saying excuse me, nothing.”

Ree blinked at him. “Mrs. Suzie would not like that,” she said firmly.

“I totally agree. And when we get out of the car, you’re going to see why it’s so important to raise your hand in school, because when you don’t …”

He gestured toward the noisy mob on the sidewalk, and Ree sighed in exasperation. The nervousness was gone. She was prepared to get out of the car now, if only to shake her head at a bunch of poorly mannered adults.

Jason felt better, too. Truth was, his four-year-old knew more than the jackals outside, and that was something to hold on to.

He tucked Mr. Smith beneath his left arm, and popped open the driver’s-side door. The first question ripped across the yard, and the reporters were off and running:

“Jason, Jason, where is Sandy? Do you have any updates on her whereabouts?”

“Is it true that police interviewed your four-year-old daughter this morning? How is little Ree doing? Is she asking for her mother?”

“Are you the last person to have seen Sandy alive?”

“What do you have to say to reports that you are considered a person of interest in this case?”

Jason closed his door, opened Ree’s door. Head down, cat tucked against his body, hand out for Ree. His daughter stepped boldly out the back. She stared at the reporters head-on, and Jason heard half a dozen cameras click and flash as one. The money shot, he realized in a distant sort of way. His little daughter, his beautiful, brave daughter, had just saved him from having his face aired on the five o’clock news.