I re-phrased. “And I certainly didn’t know Judy was murdered. Not until Captain Sterling told me.”

  She waited for more.

  “Shouldn’t we be discussing Truman?” Joe asked.

  Thank you, Joe. I nodded to the social worker and asked what, if anything, I should tell Truman about the murder. “I’m thinking he should see a counsellor?”

  Ms. Mauve held up an index finger and went in search of something in her satchel. I bit my lip and hoped she wasn’t searching for handcuffs.

  “Here they are!” she said eventually, and I was happy to see a stack of business cards. Which she promptly dropped.

  Joe knelt down to help her.

  “Look for Dr. Settle,” she told him. “Do you have a business card, Dr. Wylie?”

  Joe lifted his head. “Me?”

  “Yes, you. I should have contact information for all of Dr. Baxter’s—” She shot me a glance. “—associates.”

  Still kneeling at her feet, he found a card in his wallet, and Ms. Mauve gave him her card also.

  “Dr. Settle,” I reminded everyone.

  “Oh! Oh, yes,” she said, and Joe finally, finally found the correct card. He handed it to me, and Ms. Mauve instructed me to follow the child psychologist’s advice.

  “Will do.” I made a point of standing up and staring, and eventually Ms. Mauve and Joe got the hint and stood up also. I helped her on with her with her coat, Joe handed her that precious satchel, and we walked her out to her car.

  “Feel free to call anytime,” she told me, and Joe opened her door for her. “You too, Dr. Wylie,” she added. “Maybe next time I drop by you can show me your machinery.”

  Another comment about Joe’s machinery?

  I managed not to gag, and Joe oh-so-gallantly ushered the woman into her car. I waited until she was headed down Leftside Lane.

  “Did she actually say that?” I asked him.

  “Say what?”

  I looked up and smirked. “You know exactly what she was implying.”

  “I don’t know anythin—”

  I jumped. “Knowing!” I said.

  “Know what?”

  “Exactly!” I flapped my arms. “Who knew what, when?” I said and headed for home.“Cassie, wait.”

  “For what?”

  “A goodnight kiss?”

  I stopped for a nano-second, did the kiss thing, and headed for the Jolly Green Giant.

  My mood, by the way, was anything but jolly.

  ***

  “What did you know, and when did you know it?”

  “It’s kind of late, babe.”

  “Answer me! When did you know it was murder?”

  “Oh, that.”

  “Yes, that!” I snapped, and Sarah told me to calm down. “No!” I said, but I glanced at the floor of my turret and did decide to lower my voice. I also slowed my pacing to something this side of warp-speed. “When?” I repeated. “And don’t you dare say Sunday.”

  “Sunday.”

  “Sunday!” I took another romp around the turret. “Who else knew?” I demanded. “The sheriff? P.T.?

  “Duh.” Sarah enlightened me that any law enforcement personnel I’d seen Sunday had known the accident looked suspicious.

  I started jabbering incomprehensibly, tripped over the stupid cat—where did he come from?—and knocked over a stack of midterms. I plopped onto a rocking chair, and as calmly as humanly possible, asked why no one had bothered to tell me Judy’s death looked suspicious.

  “Because you’re supposed to be family,” Sarah said. ”It’s standard procedure to be certain before mentioning foul play to loved ones.”

  “But you knew, Sarah,” I whined, and Notz hopped into my lap. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

  “Because I didn’t want it to be true,” she said quietly. “I was all the time crossing my fingers the state troopers would prove Ginger Graham wrong.”

  I dug my free hand into the fur at Notz’s neck. “I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too.” Sarah took a deep breath. “How’s Truman doing?”

  “Other than the pink sheets, I think he’s fine.”

  “You haven’t changed those sheets yet, babe?”

  “You haven’t found any family yet, babe?”

  “I keep telling you—no long lost family is going to tumble out of thin air. Nada, zero, zip.”

  “Can you be a little clearer?”

  “Zippo, zipparoony,” she added. “You talked to Sterling?”

  “Unlike somebody I know, he wants me to stay informed.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Sarah asked what I’d learned from Sterling, I asked her what she knew from working for the sheriff, and we both decided no one knew very much.

  I asked about the Hanahan County EMS. “Ginger Graham was the first at the scene, right?” I asked. “Why did she think it was fishy?”

  “Because Judy went off the road on what might be the only level straight section of Route 19.”

  FYI, Route 19, like most Vermont roads, is winding and hilly. Make that, exceedingly winding and hilly.

  “Ginger saw the skid marks all over the place,” Sarah was saying. “She couldn’t understand why Judy would drive so erratically. Her car flipped three times before landing in Mr. Hooper’s cow pasture.”

  I rocked forward. “The Hooper farm?”

  “It’s a wonder no cows were injured.”

  I reminded Sarah I drive past the Hooper farm every day on my way to work. “Why did I think this happened closer to Hilleville?” I said. “Where was she going?”

  Sarah had no idea. “But that’s what Sterling’s for. Oh, and I take it back. Remember when I told you the authorities would be forever figuring out you’re not Truman’s real cousin?”

  I closed my eyes. “Don’t say it.”

  She said it. Sarah told me to plan on lots of visits from Captain Sterling. “He’ll figure out about the kidnapping sooner or later.

  “He or Ms. Mauve.” I groaned. “She stopped by unannounced twice—yes, twice—today.”

  “Like I said, one of them is bound to figure it out sooner or later.”

  I snarled. “Thanks for the optimism.”

  “I’d put my money on sooner,” Sarah said.

  ***

  Notz and I paced around the turret a while, and when that got old, we wandered downstairs to Truman’s room.

  Charlie thumped his tail, and the cat hopped on board, and I stared at the child whose mother had been murdered.

  What did he know? What could I ask him? What should I ask hi—

  He opened his eyes.

  “Hi,” I whispered.

  “Hi.” He jiggled Cosmic Cow. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” I told her.

  I sat down at the edge of the bed and brushed my fingers through the crew cut. “What do you know, Truman?” I asked.

  I hadn’t really expected an answer, but the kid stared at the ceiling, deep in thought.

  “It’s a secret,” he said eventually. Then he locked his lips, tossed the pretend key to Notz, and closed his eyes.

  Chapter 14

  Something landed on my chest. “Mooooo.”

  I opened my eyes. “Moo yourself,” I told Cosmic Cow and asked the child why I even bother to set an alarm.

  He giggled, and the two of them joined my father on the rocking chair. Charlie and Notz hopped on the bed with me, and the normal morning routine—normal being a relative term in the Baxter household—commenced.

  Dad tapped his computer. “Evadeen Deyo is acting awfully strange,” he said. “She’s quite skittish.”

  “Why isn’t this cat skittish?” I asked as Notz pounced on my feet.

  Dad ignored me. “Every time Commissioner Dingle stops by the Destiny, Evadeen scurries off to check on the intergalactic tracker gasket.”

  “I thought she fixed the trash basket,” Truman said.

  Dad nodded. “Clearly the girl is avoiding Commissioner Dingle.”

  “Well, yeah.” I reminded everyone that Dingle was accusing her of who knows what supposed crime. “She’s insulted.”

  “Yes,” Bobby agreed. “But I think there’s more to it than that.”

  “Does she have a secret?” Truman asked, and Dad nodded again.

  “What? What?” the little guy and I asked. Charlie, Notz, and Cow seemed interested also, but the author hadn’t gotten that far, and admitted he had no idea about Evadeen Deyo’s secret.

  “Well then, you can figure it out while Truman and I are at school,” I told him. I pushed the covers aside, and Notz toppled off my ankles with an indignant meow.

  ***

  Don’t tell my father, but I have a secret, too. Sometimes, on occasion, in a few rare instances, I actually like waking up before the crack of dawn. I get a lot done before work that way.

  While everyone else drove over to the Lake Store for the morning paper, Notz and I tackled the Truman-junk Joe had carried to the third floor the day before. We got the clothes folded and put away, found a spot between rocking chairs for the toy chests, and squeezed and shoved a few kiddie books onto my extra bookcase—at Truman’s eye-level.

  “This is starting to look like a little boy’s room,” I told Notz as I tossed a few Truman-sized shoes into the closet.

  The cat jumped onto the pink dresser and meowed loudly.

  I shrugged. “Maybe not quite.”

  We went downstairs when the troops got home, and Dad actually agreed to Cheerios for breakfast. Sometimes during the school week he gives in and lets me win the big breakfast versus small breakfast battle.

  Truman seemed happy enough with cereal and was busy tossing dry Cheerios, one by one, into Charlie’s mouth when the phone rang. Dad answered, and by the look on his face, I knew any semblance of a normal day had just gone kaput.

  I scooted Notz from my lap and followed him into the living room. “Who is it?” I whispered.

  “Sarah. It’s bad news, girl.”

  “Sarah’s specialty,” I said and took the phone.

  “Captain Sterling’s on his way over,” she told me.

  I heard a car pull into the gravel driveway. “Correction,” I said. “He’s here.”

  “It’s really bad, Cassie. He found out—”

  “What!?” I jumped. “He found out!?” I did a silent-scream at my father, but he was too busy staring out the window to notice.

  “I will kill you if I ever get out of jail,” I hissed at Sarah and hung up.

  ***

  Captain Sterling marched onto the porch, and Truman ran into the living room. “Who’s that?” he asked.

  “Uhh,” I answered. “Go brush your teeth.”

  “But I want to see who’s that.”

  The state trooper rapped on the door, and the kid ran to answer.

  Dad turned to me. “I’m sure Sterling won’t—you know. In front of—you know.”

  Personally, I knew nothing of the sort. But at least Charlie was glad to see our visitor. Notz also looked mildly interested. And Truman? Way, way too interested.

  Bobby pretended to be happy also. “Look who’s here!” he exclaimed. “It’s Captain Sterling!”

  I took two giant steps backward and knocked over a lamp.

  Sterling jumped over and caught it before it hit the floor. “Are you okay?”

  “Uh,” I answered.

  “Cassie’s a bit flustered.” Dad continued using his cheery voice. “We weren’t expecting an early morning visitor.”

  The wide-eyed look on Truman’s face did seem to verify that. Sterling bent down to shake hands, and the little guy reached up to touch the rim of his hat.

  “You’re a policeman for Vermont,” he said.

  Perfect. Just what the kid needed after all the cops he’d seen on Sunday.

  I braced myself and stepped forward, and Dad told me to go get some fresh air.

  “You look like you need it,” Sterling agreed.

  “Uh,” I answered.

  “Outside, you two.” Dad spoke firmly, but he pulled me aside and gave me a hug. “I’ll bail you out,” he whispered.

  “Call work for me,” I whispered back. “Ask Amy Peyton to proctor my midterms. She’ll do it. She’s very capable and efficien—”

  “Are you coming?” Captain Sterling was holding the door open.

  “Be brave,” Dad told me, and I put one foot in front of the other.

  ***

  I put one foot in front of the other and only tripped twice on the way to the patrol car. Sterling opened the passenger door.

  The passenger door?

  I turned around and checked for handcuffs.

  “Why are you acting so odd?” he asked. “No offense, Ms. Baxter, but you’re the oddest person I know.”

  “Uh,” I said.

  “All you Elizabethans are odd. It must be the lake water.”

  I told him we don’t drink the lake water and climbed into the car, and once he got settled in the driver’s seat, he apologized for the early hour and the odd meeting place.

  “I don’t want the little boy to overhear,” he said. “And this can’t wait until you get to work—” He stopped and opened his window as Joe rushed toward us. “May I help you?”

  “Josiah Wylie,” Joe said. “Remember me?”

  Joe didn’t wait for an answer but bent down to get a clearer view of me. “Are you okay, Cassie? How can I help?” He held up a hand. “Don’t answer that. Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll talk to Bobby, and we’ll—”

  “Dr. Wylie,” Sterling interrupted. “I need to speak to your neighbor. Alone.”

  “But if Cassie’s in trouble, I—”

  About then, the FN451z let out a loud beep, burp, and chirp.

  “Sounds like your gizmo’s waking up,” Sterling said. “You should go check.”

  “But—”

  “Go check on the FN, Joe,” I said.

  He bent down and caught my eye again. “Are you sure?”

  No. But I nodded anyway, and Joe reluctantly backed away.

  Sterling rolled up his window. “I stand corrected,” he said. “You’re not the oddest person I know.”

  ***

  In case you haven’t quite caught on, Captain Sterling did not arrest me that morning. He did, however, impart a whole bunch of other disturbing news. First and foremost—Mrs. Abernathy’s house had been ransacked.

  “The grandmother?” I shook my head. “I mean, Judy’s grandmother? I mean, my—” I stopped and shook myself again. “The Hilleville House got ransacked?”

  “No, the house on Maple Street.” Sterling stared at me. “You do know that house still belongs to Iris Abernathy?”

  “Of course!” I slapped my forehead. “So, umm, the house on Maple Street got ransacked?”

  Sterling kept staring. “It really must be something in the water.”

  I cleared my throat and asked how they’d gotten in. “Wasn’t the house under surveillance or something?”

  “Or something sounds about right.” Sterling explained that the Hilleville Police Department didn’t have the manpower for around the clock coverage. “They’ve been patrolling when they can.”

  I asked what the bad guys were looking for, and Sterling said he wished he knew.

  “We already searched the house,” he said. “Same with your cousin’s place of employment. We confiscated computers and about a ton of paperwork, anything that might be pertinent.”

  “Phone records?” I asked, and he shook his head.

  “Nothing even remotely interesting on the land line records, and the cell phone’s useless.”

  I scowled. “Why?”

  “It was destroyed,” he said and also told me he was surprised I hadn’t heard. “Remember where her car landed.”

  I wrinkled my nose.

  “Yep.” He nodded. “The phone landed in a cow patty, and it looks like the entire herd trampled it.”

  “Yuck.”

  “Yuck and useless,” he said. “But back to the house. Do you have any idea what the perp was looking for?”

  I swallowed and reminded him Judy and I hadn’t been close.

  “I understand she and Sarah Bliss were close?” he asked.

  “That’s right. Why?”

  “Ms. Bliss is the one who reported the break-in.”

  I sat up straight. “What?”

  He pointed to the Jolly Green Giant. “She claims she was looking for ‘un-girlie’ sheets for the little boy.”

  “Oh, please. Those pink sheets aren’t that bad.”

  Sterling shrugged and suggested whoever ransacked the place was probably after something more interesting than bed linens. He waited to catch my eye. “And they may still be looking. If they didn’t find what they wanted on Maple Street—”

  I jumped. “They’ll come here. They’d come after Truman!”

  “Probably not.”

  “Probably?” I squeaked.

  Sterling asked me to stay calm. “I assure you, we’re taking some precautions.”

  “Such as?”

  He pointed across the water to Lake Elizabeth’s one-room schoolhouse for K through third graders and told me Ms. Mauve was at that moment registering Truman.

  “She’s explaining the situation to the teacher Ms. Lopez. All you have to do is get the kid there for the eight o’clock bell and act as if it’s perfectly normal that he’s changing schools.”

  “There is nothing normal about this.”

  He again asked me to please relax. “Audrey Mauve knows what she’s doing.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t like Ms. Mauve?”

  “I’m not all that impressed.”

  “Don’t fall for her act.”

  I sat up straight. “Act?” I said, and he told me some cops play it also.

  “They feign incompetence to throw people off guard. But mark my words, Ms. Baxter, Audrey Mauve knows her job.”

  I muttered a colorful word.

  “And Ms. Lopez knows hers,” he insisted. “She won’t mention Truman’s last name. I know it’s not the best kept secret in the world, but the perp doesn’t know where the kid is. Very few people do, correct?”

  I mentioned Bambi and our neighbors. “And my father introduced him to a few people at the Lake Store.” I thought some more. “But Dad wouldn’t have mentioned Truman’s last name. The less people that knew, the better.”