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“Yes.” Another smile. “I’m good at it, aren’t I? Learned at my mother’s knee. Now promise.”

“Okay.” He’s probably lying. “One other thing.”

“What?” She thinks it will be something about the case (that’s already how she’s thinking of it), but it’s not.

“You’ll never convince me that this Covid shit happened naturally, jumping to people from bats or baby crocodiles or whatever in some Chinese wet market. I don’t know if it escaped from a research facility where they were brewing it up or if it got released on purpose, but as my grandfather would have said, t’aint natcherl.”

“Sounding kind of paranoid there, Pete.”

“You think? Listen, viruses mutate. It’s their big survival skill. But they’re just as apt to mutate into a less dangerous strain as one that’s more dangerous. That’s what happened with the Bird Flu. But this one just keeps getting worse. Delta infects people who’ve been double-vaxxed—I’m a case in point. And people who don’t get really sick from Delta carry four times the viral load as the original version, which means they can pass it on even more easily. Does that sound random to you?”

“Hard to tell,” Holly says. What’s easy to tell is when someone is riding a hobbyhorse. Pete is currently aboard his. “Maybe the Delta variant will mutate into something weaker.”

“We’ll find out, won’t we? When the next one comes along. Which it will. In the meantime, shelve Penny Dahl and find something to watch on Netflix. It’s what I’m going to do.”

“Probably good advice. Take care, Pete.” With that she ends the call.

She doesn’t want to watch anything on Netflix (Holly thinks most of their movies, even those with big budgets, are weirdly mediocre) but her stomach is making tiny, tentative growls and she decides to pay attention. Something comforting. Maybe tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. Pete’s ideas about viruses are probably Internet bullpoop, but his advice about leaving Penelope “Penny” Dahl alone is undoubtedly good.

She heats the soup, she makes the grilled cheese with plenty of mustard and just a dab of relish, the way she likes it, and she doesn’t call Penelope Dahl.

3

At least not until seven that night. What keeps gnawing at her is the note taped to the seat of Bonnie Dahl’s bicycle: I’ve had enough. There were lots of times when Holly thought of leaving a similar note and getting out of Dodge, but she never did. And there were times when she thought of ending it all—pulling the pin, Bill would have said—but she never thought of it seriously.

Well… maybe once or twice.

She calls Ms. Dahl from her study, and the woman answers on the first ring. Eager and a little out of breath. “Hello? Is this Finders Keepers?”

“Yes. Holly Gibney. How can I help, Ms. Dahl?”

“Thank God you called. I thought you and Mr. Huntley must be on vacation or something.”

As if, Holly thinks. “Can you come to my office tomorrow, Ms. Dahl? It’s in—”

“The Frederick Building, I know. Of course. The police have been no help at all. Not at all. What time?”

“Would nine o’clock suit you?”

“Perfect. Thank you so much. My daughter was last seen at four minutes past eight on July first. There’s video of her in a store where she—”

“We’ll discuss all that tomorrow,” Holly says. “But no guarantees, Ms. Dahl. It’s just me, I’m afraid. My partner is ill.”

“Oh my God, not Covid?”

“Yes, but a mild case.” Holly hopes it’s mild. “I only have a few questions for you now. You said on your message that Bonnie was last seen at a Jet Mart. There are quite a few of them around the city. Which of them was it?”

“The one near the park. On Red Bank Avenue. Do you know that area?”

“I do.” Holly has even gotten gas at that Jet Mart a time or two. “And was that where her bike was found?”

“No, further down Red Bank. There’s an empty building—well, there’s a lot of empty buildings on that side of the park—but this one used to be a car repair shop, or something. Her bike was on its kickstand, out in front.”

“No attempt to hide it?”

“No, no, nothing like that. The police detective I talked to, the Jaynes woman, said Bonnie might have wanted it found. She also said the bus and train depot is only a mile further along, right about where you get into downtown? But I said Bonnie wouldn’t leave her bike and then walk the rest of the way, why would she? I mean it stands to reason.”

She’s ramping up, getting into a hysterical rhythm Holly knows well. If she doesn’t stop the woman now, Holly will be on the phone for an hour or more.