As soon as Jenner’s seat belt clicked shut, the dog squeezed forward into the front passenger’s seat, then draped himself through the open window, paws hanging out.

Jenner drove the few minutes to the Southland Mall, a newish development marked by an Outback Steakhouse at the entrance, anchored by a Super Target at one end and a Whole Foods at the other. He parked under the sparse shade of a small tree, then climbed out.

He studied the Art Deco mall directory, splashed in aqua and flamingo pink; the restaurant-supply shop was across the mall but the Port Fontaine Pet Sanctuary, the no-kill animal shelter Marie Carter had recommended, was just behind the Super Target. She’d told him to ask for Miss Craine.

Jenner decided to take care of the dog first—he didn’t want the thing to melt while he was off buying stockpots.

He found some rope in his scene bag; to his surprise, the dog offered no resistance as Jenner bent to tie the rope around its neck. It trotted happily with him past J. Crew, a P. F. Chang’s, a Borders, an Apple store, and a retro-styled shop that sold fudge and ice cream, and then peed generously on the chrome shopping carts gridlocked along the walkway in front of the vast Target. Though the day was not yet particularly hot, Jenner lingered with the dog in front of the megastore, enjoying the cool air pouring from the open doors.

The animal shelter looked like a fugitive from an older strip mall. Decorated with amateurish animal silhouettes in bright colors, the building was cheery enough, but strikingly at odds with Southland’s slick and polish. The shelter’s ramshackleness was offset by a gleaming, sapphire-blue Mercedes convertible parked in front, top down, tan leather interior immaculate despite the car being a good twenty-five years old.

The reception area smelled of dogs, and Jenner heard a muffled clamor of yelps and barks from the kennels in the depths of the building.

Behind the glass of the counter sat a blond girl with glasses, perhaps ten or eleven years old. She was painfully thin, her skin pale and almost translucent. There was a small bandage on her left wrist, and Jenner noticed small crusted punctures in her lower arm—she’d recently had an IV. Her Hollister backpack spilled colored pencils and notebooks onto the countertop.

She was drawing dinosaurs. She was gifted; she was carefully cross-hatching them, shading the curve of the brachiosaurus’s belly until it had depth. She didn’t look up as Jenner and the dog came in; he noticed she wore small pink ovals of plastic in her ears—some form of hearing aid.

The dog padded forward, and she jerked up; behind thick glass lenses, her eyes were an astonishing bright blue.

She looked gravely at Jenner and then at the dog, then said, “Hello.”

Jenner said, “Hello. Do you work here? I’m looking for a Miss Craine.”

She said, “I am Miss Craine.”

“Hmm. I was looking for an older Miss Craine. Maybe your sister?”

“Her mother, actually. Can I help you?”

Jenner turned to see a woman watching him from the doorway to the kennels. She was in her late thirties, he figured. Underneath her white coat, she wore paint-dripped jeans cut off at mid-calf. Her espadrilles, too, were densely spattered with paint—a part-time artist, apparently. Her eyes were jade-green, and she wore her hair back behind a broad gray velvet band; under the harsh fluorescents, Jenner could see silver strands among the dark blonde. A pit-bull puppy cradled in the crook of her arm chewed on her finger.

She was breathtaking.

He said, “I was hoping you might be able to look after this dog.”

Miss Craine looked at his dog, and frowned. “What, you’ve had enough of him?”

Jenner shook his head. “He’s not mine, he’s a stray.”

“Oh, okay.” She put the puppy on the countertop, and the girl swept it up into her arms. “Lulu, honey—take him to Leo, ’kay?”

The girl slid off her stool and disappeared into the back.

Miss Craine squatted in front of the dog and scratched his head. “Well, you’re a podgy fellow, aren’t you!”

She looked up at Jenner, studying him, her pale green eyes clear and calm. In her gaze, Jenner felt suddenly adolescent; when he spoke, he thought he might stammer.

“I found him near my hotel. A colleague told me to bring him here.”

She turned to look in the dog’s mouth, and inspect its eyes and ears. It was behaving remarkably well.

“So, you’re the medical examiner…” She stood. “Marie told me you’d be by.”

Jenner nodded.

“Nothing wrong with him that a good wash won’t fix.” She jogged the dog’s belly with her foot. “And some time on the treadmill, eh? Eh, Podgy?” The dog’s hind quarters shook as his tail bounced back and forth.

She put out her hand. “It’s Dr. Jenner, isn’t it? Maggie Craine.”

He nodded, shaking her hand.

She said, “And now you’re supposed to say your first name, Dr. Jenner—that’s how people get to know each other, at least down here.”

Jenner said, “Most people just call me Jenner.”

“Well, I’m not most people! What do your friends call you?”

“My friends call me Jenner.”

“Okay, Jenner it is.” She laughed.

“So you’re visiting Port Fontaine from New York?” She leaned back against the counter. “Where do they have you? The Arrowhead?”

“Oh, no. Somewhere out in the Reaches, not great, but good enough.”

She frowned. “Oh, God. Sorry about that, Jenner.” She looked him over. “How did you get the shiner?”

He put a hand quickly to his eye; he’d forgotten.

She said, “I’m sure there’s a story there.”

“Not a very exciting one. Some kids were hassling the dog, and I got in a fight with their father.”

She made a face. “A fight? I hope that’s not how you solve all your problems.”

Jenner smiled. “If I solved all my problems that way, there wouldn’t be much of me left.”

“Good. I like your face the way it is; I’d be sad if someone hit it again.”

He said, “Me too.” The heat of his blush took him by surprise. She ignored his embarrassment.

He said, “Does it help my cause if I point out he hit me first?”

Maggie was amused. “You have a cause?”

He grinned. The dog walked over to him, sat, and leaned heavily against his leg.

She said, “Well, Jenner, looks like you’ve got a friend there. Maybe you should keep him—no collar, and I couldn’t feel any implanted tag, so I doubt we’ll find an owner.”

Jenner shook his head. “A dog is about the last thing I need right now. And I’ll be going home to New York soon, and I have a cat there.”

“A cat? You know what they say about men who have cats, don’t you?” She leaned over to scratch the dog’s head. “Well, I’ll have the vet have a look at you when he stops by this afternoon. And then we’ll see what we can do about finding you somewhere to live!”

Maggie disappeared through the door with the dog, and then reappeared behind the counter. She scribbled a note in her ledger, then peered up at Jenner.

“Dr. Jenner?”

The fifteen-year-old boy in him had taken over completely. He was lost in the pale gray-green of her eyes; he’d seen the ocean that color once after a storm, on a boat in the Andaman Sea.

“Yes?”

“This is a no-kill shelter, which means any pet we take in is properly cared for, fed, watered, all that. We’re privately funded, and every little bit helps.” She nodded to his right, where he saw a small wooden box labeled DONATIONS.

Jenner pulled out his wallet hastily. It was empty except for Jun’s check, a ten-dollar bill and three singles; she watched as he stuffed all his money into the slot.

“Sorry it’s not more—I’ve been meaning to get to the bank.”

“Oh, the box will still be here when you come back.” Maggie smiled.

“Here, I need you to fill out this bit here about the dog’s history.” She slid the ledger across the counter. “I know you don’t know anything, so just put that.”

She watched him write, then said, “Tell you what. Since I’ve just cleaned you out, why don’t I invite you along to dinner tonight? My father’s taking me to dinner at the golf club—we go most nights, and Daddy’ll be thrilled to have a guy to talk to, for once.”

Jenner was surprised. “Sounds good. What time?”

“Why not come to our house around half past six, seven. You can have a look at the place, we’ll have drinks, then we can drive over to the club. Sound like a plan?”

He nodded. “Where’s your place?”

“Dr. Jenner! Don’t you know you’re talking to Port Fontaine royalty?” She smiled again. “Our house is called Stella Maris; it’s the big Italian villa at the uptown end of the Promenade. What are you driving? I’ll tell security to expect you.”

“Tell them to expect a Hyundai Accent, a blue Hyundai Accent.” She nodded, her eyes so merry that he blurted, “It’s a rental.”

She murmured, “Of course,” as if no one would ever actually own an Accent.

She got a leash from the office; it took her a second to slip it onto the dog. “So, tonight, Stella Maris, somewhere between six and seven. Sorry, but the Polo Grounds insists on sports coats at dinner, okay?”

Jenner stuck out his hand awkwardly, and she shook it, a coolly amused look on her face.