Tess was so angry she thought she might burst, but she wasn’t sure what or who to be angry at. Her mother was wrong, but she was right, too. Everyone should have a Nine.

“If it helps, my new partner agrees with you.”

Tess remembered her mom’s new partner had said that the blond lady’s story did seem to be full of applesauce or custard or something like that.

“Oh, he can’t say it directly because I’m his superior,” said Tess’s mom. “I’m supposed to be training him and he’s not supposed to question my judgment. But I can tell he thinks I was wrong.”

Tess unclenched one of her fists. “I like your new partner.”

“I do, too,” said her mother. “Even when he mutters under his breath that he doesn’t know what the peanut brittle I thought I was doing.”

“So what the peanut brittle did you think you were doing?”

Her mother rubbed her forehead. “Beats me. You’re supposed to be wiser when you’re older. Doesn’t always work that way. But listen, I’m doing everything I can. Seriously. I won’t stop looking, okay?”

Tess couldn’t help the tears that made her vision glassy. “Okay.”

“So maybe you can come inside now and eat breakfast with me before I go to work? Aunt Esther is too angry with me to cook, so she sent Lance into the kitchen. He made enough flapjacks for an army and it doesn’t appear as if he’s going to quit anytime soon.”

They went inside and tried their best to make a dent in Lance’s pile of pancakes. Soon, Tess’s dad came downstairs to help. And then Theo. Aunt Esther grudgingly sat with them, nibbling the crispy edges off a single pancake. The doorbell rang, and the twins’ mom got up to get it. She came back into the kitchen with her new partner, Detective Clarkson.

“Ooooh! Pancakes!” he said.

“Please have some,” said Tess’s mom. “Lance won’t stop cooking them.”

Detective Clarkson saw Lance clomping around the kitchen, so he stuffed a pancake into his mouth, as if he were afraid Lance would attack if he didn’t.

They were almost through with their breakfast when the doorbell rang again. Not just once though, three times—frantic and insistent.

“Okay, okay,” Tess’s dad shouted. “Hold your zebras.”

This time, Jaime appeared in the doorway, breathing hard, as if he’d run all the way from Hoboken.

“It’s Karl,” he said.

“What about him?” Tess said.

“He’s missing!”

“Wait,” said Detective Clarkson. “So this Karl is a raccoon?”

“A raccoon-cat,” Jaime said. “I think. Maybe there are bits of other animals in there, too, hard to tell. Mostly, he looks like a raccoon. With antlers.”

“Antlers?” said Detective Clarkson.

“Not real ones. Cricket puts him in a lot of hats with horns or antlers. Things like that.”