The rental car clock read two o’clock when Cassie turned onto a quiet street. She didn’t make any announcement about it, so I figured we were still on the scenic route. But the next thing I knew, we were going through a gated driveway, headed for a big, big house.

Disbelieving, I turned just in time to see WOLFE lettered on the gatepost.

“Home,” she said.

“You’re not serious.”

“Really? I’m not? Why not?”

“I’ve seen pictures, Cass. This isn’t your parents’ house.”

“You’ve seen old pictures. We moved here when I was ten.”

Unconvinced, I took another look. “What happened when you were ten? Did God die and leave you his estate?”

“Close. It was a repossession.”

A repossession. She didn’t seem to notice the irony, so I decided not to point it out. Still and all, it gave me a strange feeling. “You said your dad’s a banker. You didn’t say he actually owns the bank.”

“Very funny.”

“I’m not trying to be. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“This is just going to make it worse, you know. It’s bad enough that I’m me. But if he thinks I’m after your money—”

“It’s not my money.”

Well, it probably wasn’t anymore. The SOB had probably already cut her out of the will on grounds of deviance.

With growing trepidation, I watched the house get larger in the windshield. God, it was big. There could be a whole soccer team living upstairs, or a boatload of Chinese assassins. What did Chinese assassins go for these days, anyway? Surely it took real money to import—

“Devvy?”

I jumped a little. “What?”

“We’re here. What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing.” Shaking her head, she turned the engine off. “All right, let’s have it. I am not taking you in there looking like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you think something terrible’s going to happen.”

“You don’t?”

“It’s just Thanksgiving. It’s just my family.”

“And the assassins on the second floor,” I said darkly.

Cassie put a cool hand on my forehead. “You might be just the least bit paranoid, honey.”

Irritably, I shook her off. She just smiled, though, and leaned in for a kiss . . . just as the front door opened. Figured. We hadn’t been there a minute yet, and I was in trouble already.

But the trouble turned out to be four-footed: a golden retriever, bounding down the steps with an expression of welcome. Cassie gave me that kiss, very quickly, and jumped out of the car into an armful of dog. With its paws on her shoulders, it was almost as tall as her, but not half as beautiful.

“This is Buster,” she reported, dodging another sloppy kiss. “Buster, be nice. Go say hi to Devvy.”

The dog licked her face one last time, let go, and trotted over to check me out. Remembering something I’d read somewhere, I crouched down on the blacktop, careful of the tail of my new coat, and held out a hand for him to sniff.

“Should I pet him now? He looks—yow!”

“Buster,” Cassie said severely, “be good.”

Be good? Her dog had just stuck his nose there, and that was all she was going to say? With one hand, I tried to hold the animal off. “Nice doggie. Good—damn!”

This time, the jolt knocked me right off my feet. Swearing with feeling, I shoved the dog away.

Only then did I notice Cassie’s parents on the front porch. By the expression on Mrs. Wolfe’s face, they were well within earshot.

Buster took advantage of my state of shock to do it again. This time, Cassie grabbed his collar, hard, and kept hold of it.

“Welcome to Kansas City, pookie,” she said, doing her best not to laugh.