“I’m not going anywhere. See you when you get here.”

He handed the phone to Meghan, who listened for a while, then frowned. “No, I was asleep. I hadn’t heard about that…”

While she talked to her brother about Freddy and Morgan, he reached into his jacket pocket and found a few milagros he’d grabbed at random to have on hand, in case he had a chance to give any more of them to Alex Brandon. He looked through them, quickly putting them away when he heard Meghan saying good-bye to Gabe.

She looked at Kit, and he wondered if she had seen him-he knew she didn’t have his faith in charms, though she never belittled him for his. But she only smiled and said, “I’m going to thank you all the way up to Lake Arrowhead, but for now, why don’t you get a little sleep? I’ll watch for Moriarty and wake you when he gets here.”

He agreed to this plan and started to leave for his bedroom, but paused in the doorway. Over his shoulder, he said, “Number six on the intercom. I won’t mind.”

She laughed.

She waited until he had left, and changed quickly into jeans and a T-shirt, and put on a pair of boots. She looked over her meager supply of clothing and decided she’d have to shop or do laundry. She smiled and wondered if Spooky would like to go shopping.

She pulled out a sweatshirt with a hood and pockets, and hoped it would be warm enough for the mountains. She transferred Kit’s handkerchief from the pocket of her robe to the pocket of her sweatshirt. He could keep his rabbit’s foot-she’d keep this token of luck.

Something shiny on her pillow caught her eye.

A milagro. A little silver heart. She held it for a moment, then tucked it into the small pocket of her jeans.

A little miracle indeed.

39

Manhattan Beach, California

Thursday, May 22, 7:02 A.M.

Something cold was pressed to his temple, and Alex Brandon sat straight up on the couch where he had been-until that moment-sleeping.

Rusty, seeing this hoped-for result, began wagging his tail furiously-and knocked a wineglass, a paperback, and half a dozen papers to the floor. The papers scattered and Alex’s place in the book was lost, but it was the breaking of the wineglass that scared the dog-or perhaps, Alex thought later, it was his shout of dismay that made Rusty cower and pee on the carpet.

Chase, awakened by the commotion, came in looking scared enough to pee on the carpet, too, Alex thought.

“Rusty and I just startled each other,” Alex said. “Careful where you step in here, there’s broken glass.”

“I’ll clean it up-the carpet, too. I’m sorry, I just thought he wanted out of my-I mean, your-bedroom. I should have taken him outside. I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay,” Alex said. “Nothing to get upset over. I’ll take care of the glass. You get the paper towels, all right? And let Rusty out in case there’s more where that came from.”

He picked up the biggest pieces of glass and then set a Dustbuster to work on the rest. John came in, looked as if he had a comment to make, and wisely kept it to himself. As Chase scrubbed at the carpet, he said, “Don’t you need to get a big vacuum cleaner to do that?”

“Naw,” John answered. “This is bachelor living, son. You can do just about anything you need to do with paper towels and a Dustbuster.”

“Only because the wineglass was empty. Chase, let’s try a little baking soda on your part of the carpet, though. It will keep it from smelling bad.”

“Did you smell Rusty?”

“I’m trying not to.”

“I mean, his coat.”

“No-which is good. I noticed that improvement when he greeted me last night.”

“He wants back in,” Chase said, and hurried toward the back door.

“You’re out of shampoo, by the way,” John said, and laughed.

Rusty came back into the living room and greeted each of them with the enthusiasm of one who might have just returned from a long sea voyage-especially letting Alex know that he was ready and willing to let bygones be bygones. Alex noticed that the dog’s coat was soft and smelled just like the shampoo he was now out of.

“I’m surprised you were able to get him this clean with one bottle of the stuff,” Alex said, and gave John a quelling look when he started to laugh again.

“It wasn’t easy,” Chase confided. “Uncle John helped me clean out the tub afterward. He washed the towels, too. Twice.”

Alex smiled and scratched Rusty between the ears.

“I’ll make breakfast,” John said. As he made his way past Alex, he murmured, “You tell anyone I did dog laundry and I’ll see that you are on disability longer than I am.”

Dressing after a shower, Alex saw that Rusty had relieved his boredom during the evening by gnawing on one of his dress shoes. His only pair of dress shoes. He swore under his breath and decided that as soon as he was dressed he would make sure none of his climbing equipment was in range of quadrupeds.

He wouldn’t mention it to Chase, he decided. He was puzzled by the boy’s reaction when he first walked into the living room this morning. He hadn’t done anything to give Chase a fear of him, so what was going on?

He looked at the shoe and sighed. A dog was no minor responsibility, and this one was going to end up being his. Chase would go back to live with Miles and Clarissa, and probably forget all about the dog. John would move back to his own house, and Alex would return home to find fleas in his bed.

Rusty came in then and sat handsomely at his feet.

“You must have been warned out of the kitchen by John.”

The dog wagged his tail.

“Are you going to be a pain in my ass?”

Rusty, he would swear, was grinning at him.

He reached down and petted him. At least he was a nice height. He didn’t know what he would have done if Chase had wanted to bring home a Chihuahua.

Rusty rubbed against his dark pants, coating the front of them in fur.

“Criminy, yes you are going to be a pain.”

But Rusty was cocking his head and then scrambling toward the front of the house. He began barking.

Alex looked at the clock on his dresser. A little early for a barking dog. He hoped his neighbors would bear with him.

Then he heard a knock on the front door-no, more like pounding. The intensity of the dog’s bark increased, even as Chase called to it.

Alex came down the hallway. John was frowning, looking from the kitchen. Chase had hold of the dog by now, but over the sound of someone leaning on the doorbell, Rusty was still voicing disapproval. Alex was inclined to agree with him.

He looked out through the view port in the door. The man on the front porch had put on weight and lost some hair since Alex had last seen him, but he would have known him anywhere.

“Shithouse mouse. It’s Miles.”

He opened the door but did not step aside to let his brother enter, a fact that stymied Miles for a moment.

But only a moment. “Where the fuck is my son?”

Alex heard limping footsteps behind him and glanced to see John coming into the entryway.

“That will be enough of that, Miles,” John said in a tone of voice that worked as well now as it had when they were twenty years younger.

Miles ran his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, John, I didn’t realize you were here.”

“You knew damned well I was here. You just thought I might not have been close enough to the door to hear you talk like that to your brother.”

“Forgive me if I’ve forgotten the connection,” Miles snapped.

“Let’s say he’s a stranger, then.”

“John-” Alex said.

“Let’s say he’s a stranger,” John repeated. “You come to the house of a stranger who has been looking after your boy while you went gallivanting all over the country, and you greet him like that? Who taught you to act like that?”

Miles turned red and muttered, “Sorry,” without looking at Alex. Then he fired up again. “But Chase is my son, and I won’t have either of you encouraging him to run away from home!”