• • •

“I don’t need supervision, Crispin,” Twyla said as she folded another small top and set it on the bed. “I’ve packed a carryall before.”

“Procedure, Mama,” Monty replied holding a pen and small notebook. “We need to inventory everything we’re removing so that no one can claim later that someone took his or her possessions.”

Twyla turned to him. “You think Frances is going to make a fuss over a shirt after what happened today? And if something is missing, one of the Wolves can come over here with her and help her find it.”

“She’s not the one who will make a fuss.”

“I don’t think Cyrus is going to call and ask any of us to forward his clothes, do you?” Twyla checked the closet and chest of drawers. She went down on her knees and one hand, lifted the sheet and lightweight blanket, and checked under the bed. “This place needs a good cleaning. The only thing that woman ever tried to keep clean was herself, and even that . . .”

Monty helped his mother to her feet. “Right now this apartment is part of the investigation. After . . . Well, I think Eve will appreciate some help cleaning it up.”

She placed her hand over his. “Why are you here, Crispin? One of the young officers could be doing this. You should be out there, helping Mr. Simon find that girl.”

“My brother abducted Meg. My nephew created the diversion that helped him do it. If my involvement provides a loophole . . .”

She gave his hand a light slap. “You’re feeling guilty. So am I. Cyrus was here because we are here. We’re not responsible for what he chose to do. But either of us using Cyrus as an excuse for not doing what we can now?” She shook her head. “When you needed help with Lizzy, Mr. Simon stood by you, helped you protect your own. Now you do the same for him, as a police officer and as a man.”

Monty put his arms around her and held on for a long moment. “You’re right, Mama. You’re right.” He released her and stepped back. “Two of these carryalls need to go to the station, so I’ll wait until you get everything packed. Then I’ll go to the station and see what I can do about locating Jimmy.”

Clarence’s clothes were mostly in a pile on the floor. Twyla picked up a piece, sniffed it, and made a face. “I’ll wash these first. See if you can find anything clean for him right now.”

Monty found a T-shirt that looked like it had been run over by a lawn mower, but it smelled clean enough. “Is tattered the new fashion in Toland?”

“Boys,” Twyla said with a shrug.

Not sure how to interpret that, despite having been a boy himself, Monty went into the living room to call Captain Burke while Twyla went into the other bedroom to deal with Sandee’s clothes and personal items.

“Any news?” Monty asked when Burke answered the phone.

“Nothing yet, but we’ve eliminated all the car rental places, so the vehicle Cyrus is driving was either stolen or rented from a private citizen.”

“Needle in a haystack.”

“Officers are going to places around the university that might have bulletin boards for such things.”

“Anything I can do?”

“Crispin?” Twyla called.

“Supply whatever assistance you can to the Courtyard,” Burke said.

“Crispin!”

“Captain, I have to go.” Monty ended the call and hurried into the bedroom where Twyla had been packing up Sandee’s things. “Mama?”

Twyla held out a plain glass jar with some kind of white cream inside. “Careful. It looks like skin cream but it has a sharp smell, like something I would use for cleaning. Could this be the stuff that hurt Miss Leetha?”

Monty opened the jar and took a cautious sniff. Then he closed the jar. Had someone developed something that wouldn’t harm a human but was toxic to the Sanguinati? Or had the substance been aimed at anyone living in the apartments—especially the women, who would be more likely to use a moisturizer—and Leetha had been injured by accident?

“I have to take this in and get it tested,” he said. He eyed the makeup and powders and lotions. “I’ll take all of this into evidence. Don’t touch any more of it, okay, Mama?”

Twyla nodded. “I’ll pack up the clothes.”

He noticed she didn’t offer to wash anything for Sandee—or for Jimmy.

Pulling out his mobile phone again, Monty called Vlad and told him his suspicion about the skin cream and suggested that the Sanguinati healer talk to a doctor at Lakeside Hospital if the healer didn’t have any experience with treating someone who had ingested a toxic human-made substance. Then he called Burke in case the substance was intended to harm any human who put it on her skin. Finally he called Debany, since Kowalski was escorting Clarence from the hospital to the station. The boy had stitches on his back and shoulders from the Hawk’s talons, but she hadn’t raked him as deeply as she could have—as she would have if she had known about Meg being abducted.

“Officer Debany, I need evidence bags brought to the apartment.”

“But we checked everything,” Debany protested.

“We missed something.”

• • •

Jimmy sat at the end of the counter, chomping on a hamburger and fries. He’d found the diner with the name the cha-ching had given him. So far he was ahead of the cops and the freaks, and he intended to stay that way.