Page 49 of Conrad

She nodded.

He pulled up to a sprawling block of brownstone condos that overlooked the river—grand buildings that appeared to have been built at the turn of the century. “Wow.”

“I know, right? River view, and it’s huge. He was going to be sad when he let it go . . .” She unsnapped her belt.

He put a hand on her arm. Turned to her. “So you hid.”

“Yeah. In the dumbwaiter. Edward sneaked me food until my parents got home, and then he told them where I was.”

“Why didn’t he call the cops right away?”

“He wanted to, but his mother didn’t know who to trust—she thought security might be in on it, so she wanted to wait until my parents got home. She knew I was safe, and that was the important part. I think they were both pretty scared.” She lifted a shoulder. “Anyway, that’s why my dad started EmPowerPlay. Because he thought I needed to feel strong and capable and . . .”

“Really? What sport did you play?”

“Soccer. I was terrible. I think I even scored a goal for the wrong team once.” She got out.

He followed her. “At least you scored.”

“The goalie left the net.” She pointed to a unit at the end of the row. Yeah, he saw it now—wood boarded up over the front door, windows blackened.

“The fire didn’t catch the other units?” He followed her across the parking lot.

“They made them a little sturdier back then for exactly that reason. Brick walls, brick foundation.” She stared at the unit. Took a breath.

He couldn’t stop himself from coming up behind her, putting his arms around her. “We’ll figure this out, Penny.”

We. Yes,we.

She held on to his arms for a moment, then turned, wiping her cheeks. “Okay, so the fire happened around nine p.m. My guess is that there had to have been someone home that time of night.”

He followed her to the townhome next to Edward’s, and she knocked on the door. He checked his watch. Monday afternoon . . .

His team had a game in about four hours. He should probably watch.

The door opened and a woman stood on the stoop holding a yapping poodle. Mid-forties, brown hair, she wore her eyeglasses on her head—so probably computer glasses and they’d interrupted her workday. “Yes?”

“My name is Penelope Pepper and this?—”

“Oh my—King Con.”

He gave her a tight-lipped smile, lifted his hand. “Ma’am.”

“We’re actually here because . . . well, we were hoping that you might know something about the fire next door.”

The woman sighed. “Other than I wish they’d gut the place? It’s an eyesore and dangerous to the neighborhood. Homeless sleep in it, not to mention the dogs.” She met her dog’s eyes. “Norm here is completely freaked out.”

Norm didn’t have any front teeth, so Conrad guessed she might be right.

“Were you here that night?” Penelope reached out to pet the dog, but he emitted a growl, so she pulled back.

“Don’t mind him. But no, I wasn’t. I was on vacation. Came back to this tragedy. But Janet Foster was. She’s retired, doesn’t go out much.” She pointed to the unit on the other side. Lowered her voice. “Sees everything.”Everythingwas a three-syllable word, accompanied by raised eyebrows and a nod.

“Thank you,” Conrad said and took Penelope’s hand.

“Hey,” said the woman. “Don’t you have an away game tonight?”

He nodded, then pulled Penelope away. “Don’t you know not to pet strange dogs?”

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