March and his parents stayed until nine. That’s when the grown-ups decided that perhaps Mr. Crowley wasn’t even home for Officer Rhodes to question that night; we might not hear back for a while. The Winterses left, their arms limp at their sides, and my parents locked the house behind them. They latched the dead bolt and closed all the blinds while I watched from the window seat.
Dad called me into the kitchen, and I sat at the breakfast bar while Mom busied herself making tea.
“Kazu,” he said, “we know you’re worried about Barkley and the other missing dogs.” Dad had bent over to rest his elbows on the countertop, making his eyes level with mine.
My parents were opposite in every way. Dad was tall, Mom was short. Dad athletic, Mom delicate. Dad jovial, Mom stern. Dad calm, Mom passionate. That’s probably why Dad was usually assigned to talk to me when Mom felt too emotional. Emotional was code for spit angry, meaning she would yell with such force that spit would spray from her mouth like a mist. I could tell by the way Mom stood by the stove, waiting for the teapot to whistle, that she was pretty much there. Her shoulders were pushed back and her head held high as if holding it up prevented all the rage from boiling over.
“Even though you’re worried, Bug,” Dad said, reaching out to grab my hand, “you cannot try to solve these things.” This time it was Dad who was stern, squeezing my hand a bit too tightly. Stern, but just like he always promised, cool as a cucumber.
“I wasn’t trying to at first,” I said. “But when I found the receipt in the recycled bags, I couldn’t ignore it.”
Mom spoke with the force of an arrow hitting a target. “You should’ve told us about the receipt.” She folded her arms across her chest—a little high, like she was body-blocking her daughter’s stupidity.
I knew I should keep quiet and not say another word, but I couldn’t help myself. “You never would have listened to me,” I said, my voice getting louder the more I spoke. “You treat me like a baby who doesn’t know anything. It’s like nothing I say or think matters.”
Her face froze, a sheet of ice ready to crack. Dad stepped between us and flattened me with his eyes. “You and March cannot do that sort of thing again.” Cool as a cucumber. “Do you understand me?”
I nodded. I had managed to get into trouble without an official grounding, and somehow that felt worse.
Mom set a cup of warm milk and honey in front of me, although she placed it with such force, some of the milk sloshed from the cup onto the counter. Sometimes, when I struggled to go to sleep, she would make it for me. “Drink this and go to bed,” she ordered.
Mom ripped a paper towel from the dispenser and rubbed it between her hands. She dropped it into the trash can and left the room, not looking at me as she walked away.
I was almost asleep when I heard the doorbell ring. Mumbling voices echoed up from the entryway, and I tiptoed to my open door, where I could hear them more clearly. Officer Rhodes was telling my parents about Mr. Crowley’s willingness to help them; apparently he had welcomed the police into his home, inviting them to perform a thorough search of his entire house.
“There was nothing there,” Officer Rhodes said. “It would be impossible for him to hold any animals in that home. The basement is practically empty, and our team couldn’t find a single trace of Barkley, or any dog, for that matter.”
There was a long pause that neither of my parents tried to fill. Then Officer Rhodes continued. “Kazuko said she was the last to see Barkley, right?”
“That’s correct.” Dad used his work voice.
“Is it possible that Kazuko kept Barkley’s collar after the dog disappeared?” A rush of heat rose to my face, and I felt dizzy like I had stood up too quickly. Officer Rhodes thought I was lying about finding Barkley’s collar in Geezer’s garbage can.
“Kazuko wouldn’t do that,” Dad said. “She may be nosy, but she’s not hurtful or calculating—”
“No, no,” Officer Rhodes interrupted him. “I wouldn’t think that. But some kids around here are worked up over the dognappings. Maybe it was wishful thinking on her part. If Mr. Crowley was the bad guy and he got in trouble, then maybe she wouldn’t feel so bad about losing Barkley.”
Dad thanked Officer Rhodes but stated that it had been a long day for everyone. The officer wouldn’t need to talk to me again; Dad assured him they would put an end to this business.
“But what we talked about tonight,” Dad said, right before he said good-bye. “About Mr. Crowley and those things the kids found? That’s on the record, right?”
“I’ll make a report, and it will go in the file.”
“That’s good to know,” Dad said, and the door creaked shut.
I listened as my parents locked up the main floor again. And even though my cheeks still burned from what Officer Rhodes had said about Barkley’s dog collar, I could tell from Dad’s voice that he believed me.
As I surrendered to the warmth of the sweet milk, I realized that Mom had said nothing the entire visit. And that was the loudest response of all.