“I don’t know,” she said.

“But that missing property title you were asking about at dinner last month?

It isn’t missing.

She’s got it.”

I drove back to Elm Street at five thirty to pick up Toby’s crib.

My key still worked, at least for the moment.

Brandon was waiting on the porch, arms crossed, one sheet of paper in his hand.

He didn’t look the least bit surprised to see me.