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out the necessary milligrams.
    Milligrams that devastated the central nervous system and heart. Milligrams that had led to the demise of Adolph Hitler, his bride, and his aides. Milligrams that were mixed with Kool-Aid at Jonestown and killed more than nine hundred men, women, and children. Milligrams swallowed by captured soldiers and spies to avoid the risk of divulging secrets under torture.
    But all those milligrams had been ingested as suicides. The milligrams ingested at the Metropolitan School for Girls auction would be murder.

Chapter 9
    Tuesday, November 30 . . . Twenty-four days until the wedding
    T he frenzied barking began even before Piper inserted her key into the lock. As she opened the front door of her parents’ home, the Jack Russell terrier sprang up to greet her.
    “Hey, Emmett,” Piper cooed, tossing down her bag on the floor of the small entry hall and bending down to embrace the dog. “How’s my boy, huh?”
    After several licks to Piper’s cheek, the dog stood back on his hind legs, his front paws held out in anticipation.
    “Sorry, Em,” said Piper. “I don’t have anything for you right now. I’ll get you something to eat in a little bit.”
    The dog looked at her.
    “Don’t make me feel guilty, buddy,” said Piper. “Please.”
    From the Saturday afternoon Piper and her mother had gone to the animal shelter and spotted the little white dog with the floppy ears and a big brown patch around his left eye, they were goners. Piper had still been working on A Little Rain Must Fall, and it was the week before she attended her first—and last—Daytime Emmy Awards ceremony. She’d named the terrier Emmett in honor of the occasion, only later realizing how appropriate the moniker would be. The dog could just as easily have been named for world-famous clown Emmett Kelly.
    Happy-go-lucky and friendly, Emmett was very smart and responded exceptionally well to the obedience training Piper’s father had insisted upon. But it was Piper’s mother who cultivated the terrier’s special talents, teaching him a series of tricks using food as a reward.
    The dog had already provided the Donovan family and their neighbors with hours and hours of delight and laughter when Terri came up with the idea of having Emmett featured in commercials for the bakery, which ran on the local-access cable channel. As a result, Emmett had become something of a celebrity in Hillwood.
    Piper gave Emmett another pat as she called out, “Anybody home?” While she brushed the dog hair from the sleeves of her coat, Piper heard her father’s voice.
    “Down here.”
    Piper went through the door at the end of the foyer and down the cement steps to the basement, where her father had created what they all called his “man cave.” The walls were lined with wire-mesh shelving loaded with clearly marked, transparent plastic boxes filled with paraphernalia collected over many years. First-aid supplies from simple to borderline-combat-medic gear, signal mirrors, compasses, key rings, lanyards, water purifiers, Swiss Army knives, pocket-size wrenches and pry bars, folding screwdrivers, wind- and waterproof matches, duct and electrical tape, and long lengths of cord in widths ranging from dental floss to thick climbing rope.
    Numerous books on first aid, survival, and travel sat on a shelf positioned next to a gun safe stocked with a .22 caliber rifle, a stainless-steel Ruger 10/22, a pump-action shotgun, a cowboy-type carbine, a .357 Magnum, and a companion Smith & Wesson .357 revolver. The weapons were not displayed, and Vin was fastidious about keeping the big metal cabinet locked. Only he had the combination needed to open it.
    Vin said he hoped to never use any of the guns, but he was ready if necessary. He believed that the Second Amendment of the Constitution meant what it said. He had a right to defend himself and his family.
    Her father sat at a large utility table lit by a swing-arm lamp with a built-in magnifying