Not a setback; Claudine was confident she could get Zara to post later. For the moment she’d take pride in knowing collecting the phones set the right tone. And, now, it was time to start.

“Who’s the sorry soul that’s been blessed with number one?”

My father started whittling as a kid, could carve anything. Moving on to clay he’d take from the mountains. Soon he was making casts, teaching himself to heat metals and pour molds. You know the statue, the one on the dresser? He made that. It was the first one he was truly proud of. Worked endlessly to get the details perfect. The cowboy on the horse with the gun. His back arm raised so his aim was straight. Locked and loaded. The horse magnificent, with only the slightest hint of fear in its eye, though he held his head high in mid-stride. A true work of art.

He gave it to me when I was a young girl. And I gave it to Tommy. His room in Mr. Miller’s house had nothing. A bed, a dresser, that’s it. I was trying to help fill the space. Brighten it up. The whole house was pretty barren. I wanted Tommy to feel like it was his home too. Tommy loved it, said he knew exactly where it would go. Of course I thought it would be in his room—but the next time I was there I was surprised to find it on the mantel. When Tommy had come home that day, Mr. Miller complimented the statue and Tommy ended up offering to put it in the main room so they could both enjoy it.

The two of them had a sweet relationship. The old man was harmless, just the type who wanted to be alone. Not a cruel bone in him. And yes, Tommy could flare up, had a temper, but his deep kindness always won out. No way was he capable of doing what the police said.

Zara

I was impressed but not surprised that Claudine made sure I got the best number. I didn’t think she played like that, since up until that point she’d been so serious and earnest about the Secret Santa. Her focus had been all business trying to sell the house to me. Initially she let very little of her true self show. It was fun to find out she was a little bit bad. A little bit. Ha! That’s the understatement of the century.

By the time we started the game, Pip had made her way back to Henry. Snuggled on his lap. All night she was going back and forth between us.