My fear had ebbed completely, and I gently put my hand on Marie’s arm. She seemed vulnerable, unsure of what to do or say next. “I get it. Maybe I can help. Do you know how I can get ahold of the medical examiner?”

She pulled out her phone and a few seconds later, I had a text from her.

“That’s his information. I won’t get my hopes up, and you shouldn’t either.”

“We’ll see. Can’t hurt to ask,” I said. “Anyway, how’s Alec?”

“Alive,” she said.

I waited for her to elaborate and choked back a nervous laugh when I realized that the little ring in her voice sounded like disappointment.

“He’s upstairs,” she said quickly, noticing my confusion. “He’ll probably be in county lockup soon for trespassing on your property.” She looked disgusted.

“I already talked to my parents about that. Nobody wants him locked up. I’d be worried if my grandpa—”

Marie’s eyes widened for a split second. I stared at her, trying to decide how I was going to say what I was thinking without sounding rude. “You’re not telling me the whole truth about who he is to you. I don’t know why, but after everything you just said about your friend and how you hate being kept in the dark—”

“You’re right,” Marie interjected. “You’re right.” She studied me carefully. “He’s not my grandfather, but he is family, so I look out for him, even when he gets himself into trouble.”

“Okay.” I was happy she was willing to offer me that. “I can work with that.”

“Can we leave the rest of the questions for another time?” Marie asked.

“Actually, I have one more,” I said. “Were you sneaking around outside the house before I moved in?”

The corner of Marie’s mouth twitched like she was holding back a smile.

“Mrs. Redmond—the lawyer who’s handling all the legal stuff for the house—said she saw you in the driveway a few weeks ago. I was wondering why you were there.”

“I was making sure everything was on the up-and-up. Circe wouldn’t have wanted some stranger in her house.”

“I’m a stranger,” I said.

Marie shook her head. “You’re not. Maybe you feel that way, but it’s not true.”

I checked my phone. No messages from Mom or Mo yet. They’d wait till the clock struck eleven to remind me of my curfew. If I didn’t text back, they’d be in the car at five after, like some kind of modern-day fairy godmothers. Except instead of snatching back a fancy dress and glass heels, they’d take my free time, phone, and any thoughts I had of being almost grown.

“You have to go?” Marie asked.

“It’s about to be eleven.”

“That’s not really an answer, is it?”