First, I noticed I’d missed a call on my BlackBerry from Detective Garciana. Usually, I was perturbed if I didn’t hear my phone ring while easily accessible, in my pocket. Not this time. I’d even missed its vibration with all the excitement of the adoption event going on around me.

That was the only good thing about the call.

At our pet fair, I’d spoken with nearly everyone I’d wanted to talk to that day. Even so, I was no more ahead in figuring out what had happened to Efram than I had been before.

At least the detective hadn’t shown up at the park. I definitely wouldn’t have wanted to talk to him then. Or now. Or ever. But I doubted I had a choice.

He’d left me a message to call him. He had more questions. And, oh yes, it was fine for us to set up a meeting where my lawyer could be present.

Those questions of his would go on forever. Or until he arrested me for Efram’s murder. Whichever happened first.

I had a feeling inside—one that squeezed my lungs into a tight, constricted ball—that it would be the latter. Soon.

At least it was too late to call the detective back now. Tomorrow? Maybe I would forget. Or lose my phone.

I stayed at HotRescues long after my staff had departed. I used the excuse to them, and to myself, that I still had a lot of administrative work to do.

That was true.

It was also true that I didn’t have to do it all myself. Or that night. But I wanted the distraction.

When the last to leave, Nina, got on her way, I waited for a few minutes, then walked through the shelter area, greeting all our residents who were still around.

Was I nervous after everything that had been happening around here? I’d have been a fool not to be.

But would I let it stop me? Never!

I even smiled and waved at the security cameras, in case they were working and being monitored by someone under orders to watch my every move—and to pray I did something really awful that they could record and show to the cops and to Dante.

I stopped to open gates and hug as many dogs as I could—and especially to commiserate with those animals who’d been at the fair and had to return here.

Perry was among them. We were ostensibly boarding him now for Si, and if we happened to find him a good home that would be fine, too. I tempted fate—and Si’s amazingly excellent training—by first putting my arm through the fencing and petting the formerly vicious dog. I half expected him to bite a finger or two off. Instead, he came over and let me pet him. I went inside his enclosure.

“You’re wonderful,” I verbally caressed him, too. “It’s so much better for you to be so calm and sweet. I wish we’d been able to learn where you came from. Well, if we can’t figure it out, we’ll find you a new, loving home that’s just right for you. I’ll make sure of it.”

I hoped I could deliver.

With a final hug for that night, I reluctantly slipped out, locking Perry’s gate behind me—making sure I’d done it securely. I always checked, or tried to, with all our residents. I especially didn’t want to take a chance on Perry’s getting out in case he reverted to his prior aggressiveness.

The HotRescues grounds were fairly bright, thanks to our lighting. The dogs barked a lot, as usual. Now and then, I got a whiff of an enclosure that needed cleaning, and I stopped to take care of the offending piles inside—using that as an excuse to hug another lonely dog.

I went into the center building and provided a similar pep talk to the smaller dogs and the cats who came back here. “I know you don’t show it as much on the surface,” I told a ginger and a Siamese cat who’d both been at the fair, and who deigned to look at me now, “but I’m sure you were hoping you’d find a new human servant to take you home with them today. It’ll happen.”

My current round was over. I’d visited everyone who lived here.

I stood outside the central building, close to the spot where Efram had died. It wasn’t far from where Perry had all but attacked me. From there, I went back to Honey’s enclosure. “I’m really surprised you’re still here,” I told her sadly. “I’ll bet you are, too. We’ll figure something out.”

What I figured just then was that I needed to visit the storage building. I yanked the door open, flicked on the lights, and went in. I stomped through both floors and left again.

Outside, I again walked from one end of the shelter grounds to the other.

And then I realized what I was doing: tempting not only the security company, but, even more importantly, the killer, the person who’d been inciting all the mischief around here. My moving around the entire facility was a challenge. A dare. Here I am . . . again. Come and get me.

Show your face, you damned coward.

But except for the animals who watched me, sometimes barking, occasionally whining, and nearly always alert, I was alone. And disheartened.

I needed answers. Right away.

Before I was confronted once more by Detective Garciana.

Before I lost my mind from frustration.

But what could I do about it now? I supposed I’d have to sleep on it. There wasn’t a lot I could accomplish that night.

Shuffling in discouragement like a hurt child who’d been sent to her room, I returned to my office.

The only thing I could think of to slather a temporary balm over my mood was to check out the reports on our adoption fair—or add one if no one else had so far.

I went to the Southern California Rescuers Web site I sometimes visited where pet rescue administrators keep in touch. Since I’d seen no one I recognized from other shelters at the park that day, and no one had introduced themselves to me as being in the same capacity, I assumed none of the members had been at our event. There were no “attagirls” on the site, so that still seemed a reasonable assumption.

I went to the blog area and posted a lengthy, upbeat description of how things had gone. I’d read similar posts by others who also let the world know about the good and bad things that occurred, and I tended to keep what they said in mind to try to avoid making any similar mistakes.

I noticed that one of the members from Palm Springs had posted a cautionary tale about something that had happened in her area. Not at her shelter, at least. But a local resident known for his fostering of pets in need, and helping to teach people how to take care of animals of all kinds, had been hospitalized because of a traumatic situation.

He had been beaten, and his own, longtime dog had been petnapped.

Sad, I thought.

The guy had known enough to get his friend microchipped, but so far no one had turned him in or otherwise located him.

The situation captured my attention, at least for this moment. I wondered if there was anything that I, or HotRescues, could do to help. I sent a personal e-mail to the shelter administrator who’d posted the blog, then shut down my computer.

It was finally time to go home. I did, however, take one more walk through HotRescues before I left, again tempting fate, and the killer, all but calling out, demanding a confrontation. It didn’t happen.

Just before locking up for the night, I called the dispatcher at EverySecurity—hopefully for nearly the last time—and let him know I was leaving for the night. Time for them to earn their big bucks while they could. Especially if they wanted to try to redeem themselves.

Still nothing. Nothing at home, either.

Nothing to give me a shred of optimism that I could keep myself from being arrested in Efram’s death.

I woke up early and soon headed for HotRescues, grabbing a cup of coffee on the way.

Nina wasn’t there yet, but volunteer Ricki was, sitting in the welcome room behind our big cat lookalike counter, reading a book on animal health. Not surprising. Her veterinary tech school would start soon.

“Good morning, Lauren.” She gave me a huge, welcoming smile. “When’s our next adoption fair? This one was so cool!”

I laughed. “Soon, I hope. Who’s here?”

So far, she said, only Pete was around, starting to give our residents their breakfasts. “We also got a couple of phone messages. Some people who were at the park yesterday and walked away are now regretting it. A few will be here later today to consider adopting the animals they met.”

“Excellent!” I went into my office, put down my coffee, and pushed the button to start my computer’s morning routine. One item was to add a file for scheduling home visits to our newly adopted former residents. Then I did my first walk-through of the day.

Pete Engersol was right there, feeding little Honey in the first enclosure. “Good morning, Lauren. Honey just asked when we’re doing our next adoption thing. She’s getting eager for a new home.” Pete had been the only HotRescues employee to stay here yesterday, making sure that those babies we hadn’t brought along for possible adoption remained okay despite their loneliness.

“I know she is, Pete.” I joined them inside the gate and gave Honey a big hug. “And you deserve it, sweetheart.” I told Pete about the people who’d seemed interested in her but never came back. “I’m not about to call them. If they’re not eager, they don’t deserve Honey. I’m wondering, though, if the people who called this morning might be a different couple than those who spent a lot of time with our Honey at the park yesterday.”

Pete and I went out to the path together, and he took me aside. “You shouldn’t say that in front of her. You’ll disappoint her if nothing happens.”

He wasn’t joking. And I got it. Who knew how much animals really understood?

“You’re right,” I whispered. “You know, I’m going to make a special effort to get Honey the right forever home even more quickly than just waiting for someone to find her.”

“Good girl!” Pete said.

I watched as he hustled along the path, past the place where I’d found Efram’s body, and into the rear shed, where Honey had been used as vulnerable bait to get me inside . . .

Pete loved animals. He’d hated what Efram stood for. He had the wherewithal to get inside HotRescues at any time, to do anything he wanted here. Like bring in a vicious dog and let him loose.

Since I hadn’t outed the killer yesterday at the event, maybe that person hadn’t been present.

Maybe he had been here—no matter how much I hated the idea that it could be this wonderful, kind, animal-loving man.

Dumb. Ineffectual. But I realized I was just trying to protect myself. I knew I’d hear from the detective again sometime that day. Maybe go talk with him.

Maybe be taken into custody. It had been weeks since Efram’s death. The police undoubtedly wanted to arrest someone so they’d look better.

That someone could be me.

I hadn’t achieved what I’d intended: the ability to hand over another suspect, complete with evidence to turn their official scrutiny away from me.

Surely it was the Shaheens. It should be them. Incarcerating them forever for killing the horrendous man whose animal cruelty they had fostered was absolute poetic justice.

But I’d found nothing to prove it. And they’d said nothing yesterday to change that. Neither had any of Efram’s other acquaintances who were there.

The lawyer, then. I’d do something—I wasn’t sure what—to confront him gently again, get his confession . . . ? Unlikely.

Sighing, I checked my e-mail. Not much of interest, except that I’d gotten a response from the Palm Springs shelter owner about that poor animal lover who’d had his beloved dog stolen.

I gasped aloud and nearly knocked over my chair as I stood abruptly. The description of the missing dog was so familiar . . .

It sounded exactly like Perry.

Not only that, but some of the other information she conveyed astounded me.

I pulled my chair back where it belonged and sat down, my breath fast and my mind as confused as if I’d drunk a whole bottle of vodka. Fast. Without anything at all to sweeten or dilute it.

I closed my eyes, thinking everything through. Something was pinching at my consciousness. Turning bedlam and angst into utter clarity. Could it be?

It certainly seemed logical. And illogical. All at the same time.

But I now believed I knew who’d generated all the chaotic events at HotRescues—including Efram’s murder.