The pool looked terrible. Mara watched the trash drift around in slow circles from behind the glass doors, too occupied with the dogs to attempt cleaning. A white cup had lodged in the skimmer. The orange carton had become waterlogged and tilted upright like a little boat. Her neighbors, summoned by the police vehicles, peeked over their fences. Some whispered that Mara must have provoked Edith. Others asked whether Edith had lost her mind.

At two, a tow truck stopped outside Edith’s home and a young mechanic retrieved an old delivery van from her driveway. Mara watched from her front porch while Officer Keene approached the house again. Edith appeared at the door in a cardigan, no raincoat, looking smaller than she had that morning. She saw Mara across the street and withdrew inside before the officer could finish speaking.

Nisha arrived at three carrying dog food, medical supplies, and a folded photograph of seven greyhounds standing behind chain-link fencing at a kennel called Rook’s Run. Mara recognized six immediately. Cedar had been standing at the far edge, half hidden by another dog’s shoulder.

“Here’s the problem,” Nisha said. “The kennel’s former transport contractor claims these seven were never released to us.”

“But they were.”

“Yes. We accepted them in person. Now somebody is offering cash for every one of them recovered. I thought it was a paperwork fight. This morning tells me it isn’t.”

Mara looked through the glass at the dogs. The argument had just become much larger than her backyard.

3. The House with the Drawn Curtains

Edith Voss opened her door at sunset, after Mara had rung twice and stepped back beyond the porch. There was a white plastic bag at Edith’s feet containing groceries she had not yet unpacked. The old woman’s eyes were swollen. She stared at Mara’s shoes rather than her face.

“Are the dogs all right?” Edith asked.

Mara hadn’t said anything about dogs.

“Why did you dump garbage in my pool?”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Edith glanced toward a parked vehicle halfway down the street. Mara turned to look. It was a silver sedan with dark windows. The engine wasn’t running, but someone occupied the driver’s seat. When Mara faced Edith again, the older woman had begun closing the door.

“Please,” Edith whispered. “Don’t come here again.”

Mara put her hand against the jamb, not blocking the door but refusing to walk away without another word. “Someone tried to take the dogs while you were making sure I watched you. Did you know that would happen?”

Edith’s hand tightened around the doorknob. “I didn’t think he’d go inside.”

“Who?”

“I can’t.” Edith’s voice had become dry and ragged. “Just keep them away from the gate tonight.”