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got a blanket from my room, and put it around him. Part of me wanted to snuggle under it with him, but I couldn’t see that leading to any place good, or maybe I saw it leading to someplace very good that I needed to avoid. So I crawled in my own bed and slept better than I would have thought possible given my day.
    * * *
    At 9:30 a.m. I scurried to the bathroom because I needed to freshen up before facing Seth. Seth’s shirt and T-shirt were no longer hanging from my shower rod. I peeked around the corner into the living room. The blanket was neatly folded on the couch, and a piece of paper lay on top of it, but my T-shirt was nowhere to be seen. The piece of paper was a note from Seth: Let me know if you need anything. Call me if anything else happens. He’d underlined the word anything twice. I crumpled the paper and threw it in the trash. Needed, wanted, I could barely tell the two apart anymore, which was why last October I’d told both him and CJ that I needed a break. But now that I’d seen Seth and knew I still had feelings for him—lots of messy, wonderful, scary feelings—I realized I needed to see CJ again and soon.
    Pellner called and told me I could pick up my car at the station, which was a good thing because I had a meeting on base this morning. I bundled up, hoping that Stella was home and could give me a ride. If she wasn’t, I’d make the walk. Even though the sun was shining and some of the snow was melting, it was cold out, according to the weather app on my phone. I trotted down the stairs and knocked on Stella’s door. She answered, also bundled up and looking like she was leaving for the day. Her cat, Tux, meowed behind her. He was black, with a white chest. I’d found him a collar that looked like a bow tie in the front. He was the George Clooney of the cat world.
    â€œIt’s okay, boy. I’ll be back,” Stella said as she started to close her door. I waved at Tux, but I wasn’t sure he appreciated the gesture. Stella taught voice at Berklee College of Music. We were about the same age and height, but she had exotic Mediterranean looks, with olive skin and deep green eyes, while I had dark blond hair and blue eyes.
    â€œWhere are you off to this morning?” I asked.
    â€œI’m meeting the family for Sunday brunch in Boston. Then giving some private lessons this afternoon. You?”
    â€œI need a ride to the police station.”
    â€œThe police station?” Stella’s voice sounded concerned, with a hint of amusement.
    â€œI’ll explain on the way.”
    Stella murmured sympathetically while she drove and I told her the story. It didn’t take long to reach the station.
    After thanking Stella, I trotted up the steps and entered the lobby. It was a square space with a couple of chairs, two doors, which I knew were locked and which you had to be buzzed through, and a bulletproof glass window with a small opening for speaking through. No desk in the lobby with a gossipy receptionist sitting there who might fill me in on what was going on with Margaret. Or even a stoic Yankee receptionist who might walk off to get something, allowing someone like me to snoop.
    No, this lobby was snoop proof. Darn the Ellington police and their modern ways. I walked up to the window. The desk on the other side was empty. “Hello,” I called, putting my lips near the vent-like thing embedded in the window. I hoped it amplified my voice so someone would hear me. After a few moments a woman with puffy red eyes showed up. Her name tag read MORE. I wondered if she was the dispatcher who couldn’t talk to me yesterday morning and how she was related to Margaret.
    â€œI came to pick up the keys for my Suburban. Officer Pellner said I could pick it up.”
    The woman gave a short nod and disappeared from my view. She returned a few minutes later and slid the keys through a contraption like you see at the movie theater. “The