Hands tight on the grips of my crutches, I turned away at last, and walked into the house. It was two in the morning but a wedge of light fell from the doorway of Shanti’s prayer room, a piece of warmth in the cold dark.

Shanti appeared in the light when I’d only just closed the front door. “Aarav, you’re all right.” Eyes wet, she walked rapidly toward me, and when she hugged me by sliding her hands under my crutches, I didn’t know what to do.

So I stood still.

That seemed enough.

The scent of incense clung to her skin. I had no need to ask if she’d been praying for me.

Pulling back after a seconds-long hug, she wiped away tears, then spoke in a rush of Hindi. “I was so worried when Diana called from the hospital. Your father was, too. You’re his only son, you know.” She patted one of my hands. “Come, I’ll get you some food.”

“I’m not hungry,” I managed to get in, while ignoring the rest of what she’d said. “But could you carry a Coke upstairs for me?”

She sighed. “You need to eat better.” But she was already turning to the kitchen. “You go on upstairs.”

When she came up to my room after a few minutes, she had both the Coke and a small platter of crackers and cheese, with a side of pickle, and a bunch of grapes.

“Thank you,” I said after she put everything down on my desk. “Sorry to have worried you.”

She looked at me with those limpid, gentle eyes. “Everything is all right?”

“Yes,” I lied without hesitation. “Got a bad migraine and blacked out, that’s all. Just didn’t take my pills in time.”

“Oh.” A relieved smile. “I’m glad it’s nothing more serious.”

She pulled my door shut as she left.

Once alone, I opened the balcony doors to get some fresh air into my room, then limped over to sit down on the bed. My foot was feeling better than it had the last couple of days. Maybe I could get this damn boot off sooner rather than later.

But my foot wasn’t the problem.

My brain and its malfunctioning neurons held that position. I glanced at the scattered pill bottles on the bedside table. Hadn’t I counted those? I thought I had, and there’d been no sign of an overdose. Still, I’d better check my notebook; given my current memory issues, I couldn’t trust anything that wasn’t written down.

Shit, the notebook was in the sedan.

A dog barked somewhere nearby. Princess. Alice must’ve let the poodle out for a late-night comfort break and something had spooked it. Princess didn’t bark much. But today, she kept going. And going. Frowning, I got my crutches and headed downstairs, then out the front door.

Nothing looked odd or out of place in the Cul-de-Sac. Alice’s house was dark except for her mother’s window, but Elei did stay up late at times.

The barking continued unabated.

Still, I was the only one who’d come outside. Most of the neighborhood was probably sleeping through it—the houses weren’t close together and had good insulation as a rule. My open balcony doors were probably the only reason I’d noticed.

I swallowed.

Was it really normal that no one else had responded? Or was I hearing things? Surely Shanti hadn’t fallen asleep so quickly? And what about Elei? Princess was barking closest to their house.

Sweat breaking out along my spine, I looked up the street but couldn’t see Isaac’s windows from this position. He stayed up all hours gaming. But he’d have his headphones on, so it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that he was clueless about the noise.

Movement in my peripheral vision. When I turned, I saw Calvin striding across the street. He was dressed in checked pajama bottoms and a white T-shirt, and in excellent shape for a man of his age.

“What the hell is up with that dog?” he said when he got to me. “Diana and I barely got into bed before it started up.”

I took a gulp of cold air, my heart rate calming between one beat and the next. “Maybe Princess got locked out?”

“Elei might be getting a touch hard of hearing, but I don’t know how Alice and Cora can sleep through that racket.”

The two of us went down the pathway at the side of the house, and to the back, from where the noise seemed to be emanating. The huge canopied pōhutukawa where I’d sat with Elei and Shanti was a hulking shadow in the darkness, the fairy lights off, but the motion-activated security light above the back steps cast a wide arc of crisp white.

Princess was right up at the door, pawing at it when she wasn’t barking.

“Huh.” Calvin’s forehead wrinkled. “Alice treats that dog like a child, would never leave it outside alone at night.”

He was right. There was also something else odd. Princess’s fur—hair? Whatever the hell poodles had, it was usually a pristine white, but today, it appeared marred and dirty in blotchy patches.

“Princess, girl,” I murmured in a low, calming voice dogs liked. “What’s wrong?”

Glancing at me, she whimpered, then looked back at the house. But she’d stopped barking and was now just raising her paw to scratch at the door. Those paws left streaks on the glossy white paint.

Calvin frowned. “Is the dog aggressive?”

“Totally harmless.” I went nearer. “Princess, what’s wrong?” Balancing myself on one crutch and allowing the other to fall to the grass, I reached through the ironwork railing to rub the dog’s head. “What’s happened?”

She scratched at the door again, her whimpers a constant painful thrum.

Shifting my gaze to the object of her attention, I sucked in a breath. “Calvin, look at the door.”

44

I don’t need to. I’ve just seen what’s on the dog’s coat.” Calvin’s tone was preternaturally calm, probably what he sounded like in surgery. “Can you hold it so I can see if the door’s open?”