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here?”
    Dan gave Holly an apologetic smile. “Gotta go. I’ll be in touch.” He loped toward the other cops.
    With food for thought but none in her belly, Holly was more than ready to leave. Most of the gawkers drifted away when the wind picked up. Clutching at her thin sweater as the first, fat drops of rain fell, she felt for her phone—and then realized she wasn’t carrying her shoulder bag. She left it in Mike’s car.
    Holly dashed for the shelter of a tree that still had some leaves. She felt wretched, starved and alone. Shivering, Holly paced, watching the news team, bystanders and police leave—and still, she waited.
    By the time she spotted the black Beemer slinking toward her, Holly was ready to hurl a few choice words at Mike. But when he called through the window, “There’s a blanket in the trunk,” and she saw the trunk lid go up, Holly focused on getting the tartan throw around her.
    “Didn’t you realize it was raining?” She flounced down on her seat. “What took you so long?”
    “I’m on time.” Mike pointed to the clock. “Ran a red light to make it. Streets around here are one way, and no one in Boston can drive when it rains. You’re soaked,” he added.
    “I know.”
    “What did you find out?”
    “I’ll tell you once my teeth stop chattering.” Let him wait!
    Mike broke the silence when they reached the Smallwood house. “Aw, crap,” he complained. “I suppose it was too much to hope my parking spot was still open. Here, get out and go inside. I’ll park at the garage, and then foot it home.”
    “What garage?”
    “Brimmer Street. We own two spots there.”
    Holly squinted at him. “You own parking spaces in a garage?”
    “It’s a parking condo. Couldn’t afford the spaces now—they cost more than this car—but Dad bought in early. Brimmer Street is a ways from here. I’ll be drenched when I get home. Have a hot toddy ready, okay?”
    “A what?”
    “Strong tea, honey, lemon.”
    “Very good, sir. Will there be anything else?”
    “You owe me,” Mike reminded her. Rolling her eyes, Holly let herself into the house’s downstairs entrance and went to her terrace room, where she dumped her clothes in the shower, pulled on her thickest sweat suit, and wrapped her head with a towel. Feeling almost human, she went to the kitchen to make tea and finally get something to eat.
    Holly was scarfing down a ham sandwich when Mike arrived, dripping wet. She handed him his tartan throw. “Are you going to change clothes?”
    “Nope. My room’s four floors up. Once I get there, I’m staying. Tea ready?”
    “Uh huh. Why tea?”
    “My father swore by toddies. Said he never got sick because of them. ‘Course, his secret ingredient was whiskey.”
    “I’ll skip that part.” Holly handed him a mug. “School day tomorrow for Liv and me. No partying tonight.”
    “As you wish.” Mike doctored his own tea and took a sip. “Ahh… Dad would approve. Before I make a wading pool of the kitchen, give me the skinny on what you learned.”
    Holly told Mike about the backpack and Dan’s theories. Mike said, “Sounds like he’s bucking for a detective’s job.”
    “But he’s too young! The detectives in Salem were all much older.”
    “Challenges never stopped Dan. Back at school, he set his sights on the Everest of the social heap, every boy’s fantasy—one Karina Tinsley—even though she was three years older and way out of his league,” Mike recalled.
    “And did he get lucky?”
    “Lucky….” Mike tossed his head. “In a way. I married Karina, who bankrupted me before she moved on. Dan dodged that bullet. I’d say he was damned lucky.” Flinging the blanket fringe across one shoulder, Mike said, “G’night, Holly. Can’t say it’s been fun, but it’s been interesting.”

CHAPTER TEN
    Day 7—Friday
    Liv woke to the sound of screaming. A year ago, when she first came to Boston, the screaming scared her silly, but not now.
    As she pelted down the