"Adam," Savannah said, "do you know where Rags's stash is?"

"Um, his toy box? Yeah."

"His toy box. Yes, that's a good name for it. I'll just bet if you go look, you'll find your beanbag in his toy box."

"Oh Rags..." he scolded as he dashed up the staircase. Within a few moments, Adam could be heard hollering, "Here it is!" He rounded the top of the staircase and started down the stairs. "Rags took it when we weren't looking. It was right up there in his toy box."

Everyone laughed. Adam walked over and handed Michael the beanbag, and then he looked up at Savannah, a slight frown on his face. "Why does he do that? Why does he take things that aren't his? Tiger doesn't do that."

Savannah stared into the boy's blue eyes. "That's a good question, Adam. Not very many cats do. Walter doesn't. Buffy doesn't. I don't think any of Uncle Max's and Aunt Maggie's kitties do it. There are just a very few cats in the whole world who take things that don't belong to them and hide them like Rags does." She leaned into Adam as if she was sharing a secret-her eyes glistened with intrigue. "Maybe...just maybe now...he's the ancestor of a cat that belonged to a pirate hundreds of years ago. It could be," she said, exaggerating her facial expressions, "that the pirate taught his cat to steal jewelry and gold coins from the wealthy people in the village. Just imagine Rags's great-great-great grandfather cat wearing an eye patch and carrying a loot bag."

Michael didn't even try to conceal the kick he was getting out of watching Adam, who was fully entranced by Savannah's story.

The boy's eyes were big as saucers. "Do you think he had a hook paw and a wooden leg?" Adam looked over at Rags, who had just entered the room. The cat spotted him and walked up to rub on his legs. The boy petted the cat affectionately. "How would you like to have a hook paw, Rags, and a patch over your eye?" He covered one of the cat's eyes with the beanbag he still held in his hand.

Michael piped up, "It could be that Rags just thinks certain things are way cool, like the beanbags you made, and he wants one."

Adam knelt down next to Rags, his demeanor now serious. He showed the cat the beanbag. "Rags, these are Dad's beanbags, not yours. They go to Dad's game. Now you leave them alone." Suddenly, his face brightened and he turned to Savannah. "Hey Savannah, maybe we could make a beanbag for Rags."

"Well now that's a nice idea. I think we should do that. How about tomorrow before church? But now, I think you'd better get ready for bed."

"Awwww, already? But Dad was gonna play me another game of beanbag," he whined.

"Yeah," Michael whined.

"You two are something else," she said. "Okay, one more game and then how about a story and off to bed."

"Okay." Adam looked over at Savannah. "Would you tell me more stories about Rags great-great...great grandfather?"

"Sure, kiddo."

"Hey this is the church where I first saw you guys," Adam said, looking out the car window as they pulled into the parking lot.

"It sure is, buddy," Savannah said. "We come here sometimes on Sundays and we thought maybe you'd like to come here with us today before we drive you home."

"You mean to my other home. I have two homes. My home with my mom and other dad and my home with you and my real dad."

"That's right. You are one lucky boy." Michael reached back and gave him knuckles.

Adam opted to sit in the pew with his dad and stepmom rather than join the other children for youth Sunday school. After the services, the threesome walked out to the foyer toward the refreshment table, when they heard a familiar voice say, "Hi Thavanna. Hi Dr. Mike. Hi Adam."

Savannah turned. "Charlotte, Reba, good morning. How are you ladies?"

Charlotte smiled shyly at the greeting and stared over at Adam.

"Nice sermon, wasn't it?" Reba said. She leaned toward Savannah saying, "I think Pastor was speaking to me today."

"Oh no," Savannah said with a chuckle, "that message was for me."

Michael leaned into the conversation. "It was for all of us." He smiled. "A universal message."

Adam reached over and pulled on his dad's shirt sleeve. "Hey Dad, can Charlotte and I go get a cookie?"

"Oh, you already spotted the cookies, did you? Sure, if it's okay with her mom. Just stay right out there on the patio."

"Can you come with me?" he asked Charlotte.

The girl looked over at her mom. Reba smiled and nodded.

"Yeth," she said.

Adam took hold of her hand. "Okay, come on."

Savannah and Michael watched the children rush toward the refreshment table. At the same time, Reba turned and spoke to an elderly gentleman who was walking toward her.

"They let dog killers inside the church?"

"What?" Michael turned around quickly to see who the angry voice belonged to. There, standing in front of him was a pudgy, well-dressed woman in her mid-seventies. She stared intently at Michael with dark, deep-set eyes. She hissed, "You killed my son's dog, you miserable excuse for a veterinarian." She glanced over at Savannah, scowled, and then turned and walked away.

"What's wrong?" Reba asked as she returned to where the Iveys stood. "Has something happened?"

"Reba, do you know who that woman in the blue coat is?" Michael asked.

"That's Mrs. Gamble." She looked up at Michael. "Was she rude to you? Don't pay her no mind. She's always unhappy about something. She often has an insulting remark to make about someone's child. She has been rather cruel to Charlotte a time or two. What did she say to you, anyway?"

Michael and Savannah glanced at one another. He responded, "Oh nothing. Nothing of any importance." All he had on his mind now was gathering up his little family and leaving. "Adam; where's Adam?" He excused himself, took Savannah's hand, and led her toward the patio. He scanned the area quickly. When he didn't see the children, he started to panic. "Where is he?" he asked, his eyes darting back and forth.

"I hear him," Savannah said. "Sounds like he and Charlotte are having fun just on the other side of that table. Michael rushed over and saw the two of them sitting on a rock wall eating cookies and sipping punch.

"Hi, Dad," Adam called out when he spotted Michael and Savannah. He began to giggle. "Hey Dad, you shoulda seen it. A lizard just took a bite of Charlotte's cookie."

"What a super weekend," Savannah said as she and Michael drove home after delivering Adam to his mom and stepdad.

Michael reached for his wife's hand, looked over at her with a smile, and said, "It sure was. It sure was." He laughed a little. "I got a kick out of your conversation with Adam about Charlotte. It was cute when he asked you why she talks funny."

"Yeah, he said, 'she talks like a little kid, but she's a big kid.'" Savannah laughed.

"I thought you handled his question very well. He understood when you explained she has Down syndrome, since his little sister also has it."

"But Rose isn't saying words yet. Reba told me once that many people with Down syndrome have speech impediments because of the way their tongue is formed or the way they use their tongues."

"Interesting. I didn't know that."

The couple drove in silence for a while, each with their own thoughts, when Michael glanced over at Savannah briefly and asked, "How do you think the new girl, Alyce, will work out?"

"Oh, seems okay. Too early to tell, really," Savannah said. "She's been with us for...what...four days?"

"As long as she does a good job of disinfecting pens and keeps our offices and waiting room clean, I'm happy," Michael said.

"Well, yes, but you want her to fit in with our office family, too," Savannah reminded him. "And it appears as though she's getting along with Bud and the gals in back okay. Scarlett seems okay with her, too, as far as I can tell."

Michael took a swig of water and set the bottle back down in the cup holder. "It's hard to replace someone like Cindy. She's a good worker and knows her job."

"She sure does. I'll miss her." Savannah sat quietly for a moment and then said, "It's really odd how Alyce came to us, don't you think? I mean we'd been interviewing for several weeks and had so few applicants. And then to have this girl just show up out of the blue when we were so close to making a decision...it seems almost too fortuitous."

"Yeah, it was odd the way it happened. But she lucked out-came in at the right time with what seem to be the right credentials."

The next morning as they prepared for work, Michael asked Savannah, "By the way, honey, do you think we should take the cats to the clinic this morning?"

"What?" Savannah asked, switching off the blow dryer.

"I think we should take the cats to the clinic."

She spun toward Michael. "Why? Are they sick?"

"No, but the termite people are coming today, remember?"

"Oh that's right." She faced the mirror again and looked at Michael's reflection. "I thought they worked without chemicals."

"Yes, but they'll be all over this house, in the attic, under the house, in all the rooms." "Yeah, I guess we'd better not leave the cats here. What about Lexie?"

"We'll take her, too. The staff likes it when she comes to work."

"They sure do. Everyone spoils her with treats."

"You finish doing that foo-foo stuff you do to yourself and I'll go get the carriers ready and feed the gang. What do you want for breakfast?"

"I'll just fix a bowl of oatmeal and fruit. Want me to cook you some eggs?"

"No. I'm going to have one of those m.u.f.fins you made."

"I feel kind of bad leaving the kitties behind tonight," Savannah said as she climbed into bed next to Michael. "But you're probably right, they'll be fine. They all seemed relaxed and contented in that big pen. How smart of you to build that community pen at the clinic-sort of reminiscent of Max's outdoor runs for his rescued cats."

Michael smiled. "Yeah, that's where I got the idea. They did have fun playing in that kitty playhouse didn't they, with all of the different levels and cubby holes to zip in and out of?"

"And Buffy was in her element with the hidey places," Savannah said, snuggling close to her husband, her head on his outstretched arm. "She likes to just observe from a safe place. Yeah, they'll be okay tonight. But I miss them."

"You were with them all day."

She rolled toward him. "Not the same; I was working. Only got to see them a couple of times." She laid her head back and looked up at the ceiling. "They seem to like the placement of that pen, too-lots of activity, people coming and going. Good location. You did remember to close off the outside area, didn't you?"

"Yes," Michael said. "I secured the kitty door. They're tucked in for the night. And Lexie has us all to herself. She seems to be enjoying that luxury, doesn't she?" Michael looked over at the dog, who was lying stretched out at the foot of their bed.

"She sure is-looks like she's going to sleep with us tonight unenc.u.mbered by the fur kids."

Well, good night, honey. I love you," he said, rolling over and kissing her on the neck and then the lips.

"I love you too, Michael," she said dreamily. They fell asleep in each other's arms, Lexie snoring quietly at their feet.

Brrrrrriiiing, Brrrrrrriiing.

Michael opened his eyes and squinted at the bedside clock. 5:50 a.m. He reached up and pulled the chain on the lamp, picked up his phone and, still sounding groggy from a good night's sleep, answered it. "h.e.l.lo? Hey Bud, what's going on?" Michael quickly sat straight up. "Oh my gosh," he said. "Are you sure?" He kicked at the blankets to free his legs and swung them over the side of the bed. "Bud, have you called the police?" He stood and walked toward the bathroom. "I'll be right there."

A look of panic spread over Savannah's face. She rose up off her pillow. "What happened, Michael?"

He walked back toward her, stopping to grab his jeans off the chair where he had left them the night before. He rolled his head from side to side. "Unbelievable," he muttered.

"What?" she demanded. And then she asked, her voice shaky and shrill, "Are the cats okay?"

He stepped into his jeans and fastened them, then sat on the edge of the chair and slipped on the socks he'd worn the day before and his sport shoes. He stared into s.p.a.ce, took a deep breath, and said, "Bud found a body at the clinic."

She was sitting up now. "What?" She threw the covers back and slid out of the bed. She looked down at her husband. "What kind of a body? Who?"

"I don't know. Bud..." He hesitated. "How could this be happening?" He finished tying his shoes and then stood and ran his fingers through his hair. "The sheriff's on the way. I've gotta get over there."

"I'm coming with you." Savannah raced into the bathroom and closed the door. When she returned, Michael was still standing in the middle of the room. She rushed over to the chest of drawers, grabbed a T-shirt and threw it at Michael. "Put this on," she said, peeling off her nightgown and pulling on a pair of jeans and a sweater. She looked over at her husband while slipping into her Uggs. "Michael, are you all right?"

"No," he said moving his head back and forth slowly. "No, I'm not all right. Someone is lying dead in our clinic."

Chapter Five.

"My gosh, there are a lot of cop cars," Savannah remarked as they turned the corner toward the clinic. A synchronicity of red and blue lights flashed against the building, silhouetting the array of uniformed officers who had congregated in the large parking lot. A few neighbors, still in robes, stood watching. Some had their hands wrapped around hot cups of coffee.

"Hey, Michael, what's going on?" Dave Taylor from across the street hollered as Michael climbed out from behind the wheel of Savannah's Honda Accord.

"I don't know, Dave. Just got here." He headed toward the front door of the clinic. "Jim, what happened?" Michael asked when he spotted the deputy.

In the meantime, Savannah stepped gingerly out of the pa.s.senger door, still babying her injured knee. Before she could close the car door, she spotted something on the ground in front of her. Keys-it's a ring of keys. She picked it up and examined it. Hmmm, that's odd, she thought. She looked ahead of her and saw Michael approaching Deputy Jim. Eager to hear what he had to say, she tossed the keys into the car and pushed the door shut. She walked away, not noticing that the keys had slid across the seat and slipped down between the seat and the console. She caught up with the two men just in time to see Jim shake his head and hear him mumble, "Doesn't look good, Dr. Mike. Doesn't look good." He walked past Michael and Savannah over to where some of the other uniformed officers stood.

They both followed Jim with their eyes and watched as he gave the officers some instructions.