“Sydney, right?” She looks over my shoulder to Theo, a sudden playfulness in her gaze, then she looks back to me. “What’s up?”

“Hi. We were looking for Mr. Perkins. Have you talked to him today? Kind of worried about him because I didn’t see him take Count for his walk.”

“Oh, he didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” I ask, not even trying to blunt my annoyance. I hate when people ask a question instead of just giving the damn information off the bat.

“His daughter took him to the hospital. She came by last night.”

“Wait, his daughter? She lives in DC. Why would she be up here in the middle of the night?”

Melissa’s eyes go wide. “The woman said she was his daughter. Do you think she lied?”

“Did you hear anything strange last night?” I ask. “After his daughter came?”

“No, but I was at work after that.” She shrugs, her doe-eyed fear fading. “There was a show at the bar and we all hung out after. I got back super late. Or super early, rather.” She glances at Theo. “You saw me come in, right? You were watching from your window.”

Theo nods jerkily and she smirks. “You look like you had a rough night, too. What were you up to?”

“I think we can call the hospital and see what they have to say,” Theo says, his gaze returning to me.

“Okay,” she says. She pulls the door shut behind her and jogs down the stairs. “Keep me in the loop. You know where to find me,” she says to Theo with a wink as she passes him.

She pops AirPods in her ears as she unlocks her bike. I’m staring, my brain trying to catch up with what’s going on.

“Where’s Count?” I call out as she kicks off, but she doesn’t hear me.

“Count!” Theo calls out while leaning over the banister, but there’s no bark or even whine in response. He looks over at me. “If Mr. Perkins is at the hospital, I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t just let a dog hang out in the waiting room. If Count is in there, he could starve. Die of thirst.”

I care about Count, too, and I know white people love them some dogs, but Theo’s talking probable cause, not liberating paws. A reason to break and enter. A way for us to not have to rely on the word of some girl who may or may not have been up until the crack of dawn doing coke.

I look around. A breeze blows through the leaves of the trees lining the street, but there isn’t anyone else on this end of the block. Theo follows me as I walk slowly into the plant-enclosed area that leads into the garden apartment.

“Don’t tell anyone, but his door is always unlocked,” I say as I turn the knob and push. “Okay, not always.”

“I can pick the lock,” Theo says casually. “Wait. No, I can’t. That wasn’t here on Monday.”

I’m trying not to freak out, but when I follow his gaze I notice one of the doorbell camera systems has been installed. Since when? Mr. Perkins is into gadgets, but not enough to install a camera, and especially not now when the neighborhood is supposedly the safest it’s been in years.

“The fuck? Okay. Okay.” I walk over to the window and peer into it—was that movement back there? Or just Theo’s reflection coming up behind me? The heat of him radiates along the left side of my body as he moves in closer to peer inside, too.

“I really thought I saw something,” he says quietly. “I hope it was a dream.”

His words remind me that I’d dreamed of demons in the walls, trying to scratch through to me. Had the demons howled as well? Had it been a dream at all?

“Sydney!”

I turn to find Ms. Candace watching us from the sidewalk. She pushes her sunglasses up onto her cap of gray curls.

“You two look like criminals casing a joint. Trying to get your picture put up on OurHood? ‘The Ebony and Ivory cat burglars.’ You just need matching striped shirts.”

She cackles at her bad joke.

“Have you seen Mr. Perkins?” I walk over to her. “His tenant said something about him being taken to the hospital? We’re worried.”

She looks between me and Theo and I can just imagine a little caption that says NEW GOSSIP ACQUIRED popping up over our heads. The Day Club Crew are gonna have a field day. Then her gaze settles on me and I see the connection form in her head. Her smile fades.

“Don’t worry yourself. He’s fine,” she says in that slightly raspy voice of hers. “He texted me saying one of the grandbabies had to get their appendix removed, so he went down to help Debbie and Ron with the kids. Maybe that girl misunderstood?”

“Maybe,” I say, then look back through the window; City Hall is empty and quiet. I guess it was just a reflection.

“You know she drunk half the time, and high the other half, but her parents paid her rent and she hasn’t burned the place down, so it is what it is.” She sighs. “John will be back before the block party this Sunday. How’s the tour research coming?”

She perks up at the last sentence, her gaze sharpening on us and a suggestive smile tightening her mouth.

“We’re figuring it out,” I say.

“Good. Me and the Day Club Crew are looking forward to it.”

“Day Club Crew?” Theo repeats.

“Ms. Candace takes care of some older people from the neighborhood in her house during the day,” I say, trying to keep any emotion out of my voice. “None of them like the term ‘elder care.’”

“Of course we don’t,’” she says. “We aren’t elderly. We’re finely aged, like that good top-shelf rum.”

She laughs.

“They might have some helpful stuff for the tour,” Theo says. “Do we have time to talk to them?”

I want to whirl on him, ask him if he remembers he’s my reparations assistant, not the boss of things, but he’s right. I cross my arms over my chest instead, nod, wishing I could get off this emotional Slip ’N Slide that has me crying, then pissed, then paranoid.

“Yeah, come on by. We’re always happy to see you, you know that.” Her gaze lingers on me, a little soft and sad. “But whenever you come, you two have to be out before General Hospital starts or Paulette will not be pleased.”

I throw my hands up. “I know better than to come between Paulette and Sonny Corinthos.”

“See you later,” she says, leaving me and Theo alone.

“Sorry to make you worry.” He stares at Mr. Perkins’s window. “It’s weird how a dream can feel so real. I swore—” He shakes his head. “I’ll meet you back here in half an hour? We can get breakfast before heading to the church.”

“Okay. There’s a good Caribbean diner across the street.”

I head back to my apartment, wondering what it means that Theo and I are just gonna spend the whole damn day together again in the name of research, and then check my texts. Drea’s listened to the audio of my panicked freak-out, according to the little check marks that show the message was received, and hasn’t bothered to respond. She’s online now, and I stop in the hallway, type, and hit send before I can think better of it.

Btw, I died of a heart attack waiting for you to respond, avenge me. xoxo

The message is sent. Marked as read.

No response.

Sorry for being a smartass, I type out. But stop leaving me on read and respond so I know you’re okay, okay?

Drea is typing . . . pops up in the display at the top of our conversation and relief floods me.

She’s okay.

She doesn’t hate me.

When I leave to go meet Theo, she still hasn’t hit send.

Gifford Place OurHood post by Josie Ulnar:

This is an accountability post. I want to apologize to everyone for the racket Toby made last night. Terriers are rat catchers at heart and, well, I don’t know where it came from, but a rat got into our house in the middle of the night. Toby was barking bloody murder as he chased it down, and I’m sure he woke some of you up. Sorry about that!

Btw, if anyone wants, I have a couple of vouchers for the maid service I use. They do an excellent job and really deep clean your kitchen to prevent infestation of vermin.

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Chapter 11

Theo

I’M EATING SOMETHING CALLED ACKEE AND SALTFISH, A KIND of buttery fruit cooked with salted fish and spices. It’s heavier than my normal breakfast, but really good.

Sydney is working on a basic plate of scrambled eggs, roasted potatoes, and rye toast. Maybe it’s because her braids are pulled up into a bun atop her head now and I can see her face better, but she looks more tired than when I left her this morning.

Her skin is sallow beneath the brown, and the bags under her eyes would have to be checked on most airlines. There’s a red mark on the brown skin of her forearm that she absentmindedly scratches every few moments. She also keeps checking her phone, trying to be subtle but with a desperation that makes it clear she’s waiting to hear from someone.