Yellow tape on the front door.

The inspector’s yellow paper on the lawn.

A postal slip in the mailbox that had been sitting there since yesterday.

Then Evelyn’s front door opened across the street, and Lily stepped out onto the porch in her pajamas at three in the afternoon with her bear under her arm, waving at me as if it were any ordinary day.

I waved back at her.

“Where’s Miss Evelyn,” I said, keeping my voice even.