The dog bounded straight to the kids, who bounded right back.

“Hi, Sadie. Hi!”

They all but fell on the dog.

“Hi, Adrian. Hi!”

“Hi, yourselves. What a nice Sunday, right? You guys want to play with Sadie awhile?”

“Mama says Sadie’s my surrogate dog—that means substitute—until Thaddeus is at least one year old. And then maybe we can get a puppy. That’s two hundred and eighteen more days.”

Only Phineas, she thought.

“Sadie loves being your surrogate dog. How’s your mom, Collin?”

“She’s having a girl. They don’t have a penis.”

“I’ve heard that. You’ll be a good big brother, like Phin is.”

“I guess. But he got a boy with a penis.”

“Well, I didn’t get to have either and be a big sister, so you’re both lucky. I’m going to go say hi to your mom, Phin.”

“She said for us to play outside because she was going to feed the baby and put him down for a nap. She feeds him milk out of her breasts. Boys can’t do that.”

“This has been an education.”

She went to the kitchen door, peeked in. Teesha, sitting at the counter, waved her in.

“I’m sitting down for the first time in too many hours to count. Baby’s asleep, boys are playing outside, Monroe’s making music.”

“So I hear.”

“And we’re ordering in for dinner because I said so. Help yourself to whatever.”

“Got my whatever.” She tapped her water bottle. “You look tired.”

“Teething. How quickly we forget. Your mom get off all right?”

“She did, just a couple of hours ago. It’s been … interesting.”

“Is the—should I call it a truce—holding? I mean I know she was in DC for a few days, but this is the longest I’ve known her to stay around here.”

“A new record. I wouldn’t call it a truce.” Adrian sat. “More like a new direction. And it is holding. She means it, she’s trying. And I wanted to tell you she’s agreed to the production. We’ve been making those tweaks, but we’ve got a go on it. I’ll email you everything if you want to start the ball rolling.”

“It needs to if you’re determined to do this by the second week in May.”

“I want it before graduation, so yeah.”

“I’ll get on it. You look tired, too.”

“Maybe a little. I met with the job boss this morning, with the inspector. I’m bringing Kayla in for design work, so we’ve been going over ideas in emails and texts. I know you and Jan have Rizzo’s in order, but I still need to keep involved. He’d expect that.”

“And let’s add what you’re leaving out. Did you meet with the PI?”

Adrian unhooked her water bottle, took a long drink. “Yeah, and she seems solid and smart. She actually thinks she may be able to trace this last card. It’s got a publisher. It’s not like the others.”

“And that’s another worry. He’s broken pattern again.”

“He wanted to kick me when I was down, so he did. But the PI—Rachael McNee—said that was a mistake. Before, no chance of tracing. Now there is. Maybe she’s right. Anyway, my mother wants to do this, and I want to let her.”

She looked out the big glass doors, smiled. “Sadie’s in heaven.”

“So are those boys. I love that Phin has a best pal. Big brains really need pals, and they can just be little assholes together.”

“Collin remains disappointed his new sibling won’t have a penis.”

“He mentions it often.”

“I’m sorry I’m going to miss seeing Phin’s penis-bearing sibling, but I should get going.”

“You could stay, get in on the takeout.”

“I would, but I need to rechoreograph a couple of things.”

“You gonna be all right, alone?”

“Yeah, the house is home. And I’ve got Sadie.”

“If you change your mind, just come back. And don’t worry about the rest. I’ll get the setup started, nail down the dates.”

Adrian rose. “So, Raylan’s not back yet?”

“Maya said he was due for family dinner tonight.” Teesha leaned back in her stool. “Why don’t you make a move there?”

“What?” She literally jerked back. “Raylan? No. That’s just … weird.”

“Why? He’s seriously cute, he’s definitely not an ax-murdering rapist drug addict psycho. He’s single.”

“I’m friends with his sister, I’m now his mother’s employer. I knew his wife. I really liked his wife. He still wears his wedding ring. And, on top of all that, it’s been awhile since I made any moves. I’m pretty sure I’m rusty.”

“You dated that guy a couple of times last fall.”

“Wayne? Twice, and he made the move, I just went with it. And nothing clicked. You need that click.”

She paused, sighed. Then puffed out a breath. “I miss sex, I won’t lie, but not enough to make moves on a friend, or go on clickless dates.”

She rehooked her water bottle. “Maybe you could lend me Monroe, just for a couple hours.”

“He is good at it. But no. Find your own man.”

“Maybe later. Kiss that baby for me. I’m taking myself and Phin’s surrogate dog home.”

Teesha laughed. “He told you that one? I had to come up with it, as he started giving me statistics on canine pets for children. I’m not going to housebreak a puppy with a not-quite five-year-old and a teething baby.”

“No shame in that. I’ll send you the finalized agenda and itinerary.”

Teesha got up to walk to the door, then called out, “You know, Monroe and I were friends first.”

“For what?” Adrian called back. “Five minutes?”

“Eight. We made it to eight minutes. Think about it.”

Adrian merely waved, hooked Sadie up to the leash, then ran off.

At the end of the following week, with April struggling to bloom in the quick breaks between chilly rain and cold nights, Rachael McNee sat with Adrian in the living room.

Rachael, a sturdily built woman in her forties, drank her coffee black and wore a navy turtleneck with a stone-gray suit.

The former cop, with her short, straight hair the same color as the suit, looked more like a kindly librarian than a PI with her own agency.

Which might have been why Adrian felt comfortable with her.

“I didn’t expect you to report back so soon.”

“I’ve got a written report for you, but I thought you’d like to hear the progress face-to-face.”

“I didn’t expect any progress this quickly either.”

“You’ve dealt with this a long time,” Rachael said, sympathy apparent, “without any. But up to now, your stalker’s used cheap white bond, cheap white envelopes, and easily obtainable American flag postage. He’s smart enough not to lick the seal of the envelope. He block prints by hand, so the printing can’t be traced to any particular computer software, typewriter.”

“And writing the poems by hand’s more personal.”