RINA HELD THE TEAKETTLE UNDER THE FAUCET AND CARRIED IT WITH BOTH HANDS TO THE STOVE ONCE IT WAS FULL. “TELL US!” I INSISTED, HAVING waited patiently while she washed her hands and helped my mother set out cups for all of us to have tea. Rina looked proud, as though she were glorying in the last moments of holding her special information.

“Katia has a secret,” she said teasingly, and waited for us to ask her for more.

“What is it?” Nikolai demanded. Rina glanced at my mother and they shared a quick smile.

“Well, we went for our visit, and when we got there Mrs. Klukova was home, but Katia wasn’t.”

“Where was she?” I asked nervously, picturing her roaming our farm for clues that would lead her to Zasha.

She shrugged. “I don’t know, but Mama and me decided in advance what we would do if she was gone.”

“And that was …” I wanted to turn her upside down and shake her to make her words come out more quickly.

“I said to her mother, ‘Mrs. Klukova, I have something for Katia. May I run up and put it in her room?’”

My mother joined in, unable to hide her smile as she said, “Mrs. Klukova nodded her head yes so there would be no interruption in her conversation, and she never stopped for a breath until Rina had come back down and we were almost ready to leave.”

Nikolai looked like he was losing his patience until Rina said, “Her room is like a … what is the word you said, Mama?”

“Shrine.”

“A shrine to dogs.”

I was dumbfounded. “What do you mean?” Nikolai and I leaned closer to her, as if we hadn’t heard her correctly.

“She can draw really well, and there were pictures of dogs everywhere. Mostly in pencil, but some in ink, and even some in paint, but you could tell she’d drawn them all herself.” Rina sat back, looking satisfied to have been such a capable spy.

“What else?” I asked, trying to make sense of it.

“They had names. She put a name under each dog. The one she drew the most was a little black dog, Mr. Buttons.”

“Mr. Buttons!” Nikolai laughed. “Who would give a dog such a name? Zasha — now that’s a good name for a dog.” Zasha turned toward him at the sound of her name. The water boiled in the kettle and my mother poured it over the same tea leaves we’d used at breakfast, a trick we’d learned when tea became scarce.

“This makes no sense,” I said, staring at Rina. “She was so … angry when she told us of her suspicions that Petr had a dog with him.”

Rina shrugged again. “All I know is that there were three little stuffed dogs on her bed by her pillow. It looked like she made them, or maybe her mama did.” Nikolai and I gaped at each other in amazement.

“I think it’s perfectly clear,” my mother said calmly. “She hoped Petr had a dog because she wanted that dog for herself.”

“Well, she’s not getting Zasha,” I said darkly, folding my arms in front of my chest.

“Maybe we could give her one of the puppies,” Rina said. Nikolai turned to her immediately, like she’d suggested we give her one of our own arms.

“She said our whole family would be traitors if we had a German dog!” he fumed.

“And that it would be destroyed. Should be destroyed!” I added, standing up. “This makes Katia even more dangerous. She’s not investigating Petr’s death as a good citizen. She’s doing it for her own selfish reason: She’s desperate to have a dog.”

“That’s kind of sad, don’t you think?” Rina asked.

“No!”

“But look how happy Zasha has made us.”

“You don’t understand,” I snapped. “You didn’t see her out there sniffing around for Zasha like a bloodhound. Nikolai, I’m going to town now to get the things we talked about. If Katia comes anywhere near our house …” I was breathing heavily at the very thought.

“Mikhail,” my mother said in a voice of warning. “Do not speak rashly of what you might do.”

It was all I could do to answer, “Yes, Mama,” before I ran to the barn to harness Paku for our trip into town.