It did. After seeing those omen friezes and hearing Rose’s story, I wanted to know more about the woman who owned the house.

“It isn’t a simple matter of entering an address,” he said.

“So I noticed when I looked at the Cook County site,” I said. “Township, subdivision, lot number . . . They need a ton of information. And even then their records only go back to 1985. For transactions before that, you need to go to the office and dig through files.”

“Which is a glorious way to spend a day. As you’ll eventually discover.”

“Don’t you guys hire law clerks for that?”

“I have you. Fortunately, the records for this county go back further, probably because there are relatively few of them. I’ll show you another time how to obtain property specifics. For now, here they are.”

He passed me his cell, with the details on a text note. I entered them and got “property not found.”

“You’ve made a mistake,” Gabriel said.

“Naturally.”

I let him double-check my input. It was correct. He entered information for Rose’s house, which he’d brought for comparison. When it also came up blank, he fixed the screen with a cold stare.

“Intimidation only works on living things,” I said. “Let me see what I can find.”

The answer was on the records-search site, under FAQ. Records for Cainsville had not been digitized. They were available at the town records office, inside the library, and could be accessed by appointment only, with a minimum of forty-eight hours’ notice.

“Seriously?” I said.

“Let’s see what we can find by other means,” Gabriel said. “Names of previous owners should be accessible elsewhere.”

Eventually he found the full name of the last owner. Using that, he uncovered the original one.

“Glenys Carew,” he said.

“I’ve heard that name,” I said. “I know there are Carews in Cainsville. A few of them, anyway. I think Veronica said it was an old family. Glenys sounds familiar, too. I’ll take a wild stab and guess it’s Welsh?”

Gabriel’s fingers flew over the keyboard, surprisingly adept for someone whose fingers looked like they’d hit three keys at a time. “It is. As is Carew. You’re right—there are a few Carews in town. Presumably not direct descendants, given that they allowed the house to change hands.”

He passed me the laptop and I ran a few searches, chatting as I did. “If Glenys advertised her services as a fortune-teller, I don’t see any historical record of it. It isn’t exactly a common name. Ah, here’s something. A wedding announcement for a granddaughter from the Morning Star, which is apparently one of the newspapers that merged to become the Rockford Register Star, and—”

I stopped and stared at the screen, rereading the announcement. It was for the wedding of the daughter of Arthur Carew, only son of Owen and Glenys Carew, all of Cainsville, Illinois. The daughter, Daere Jean Carew, was marrying the only son of another Cainsville family—John Laurence Bowen.

“Daere Bowen,” I whispered, barely able to get the word out. “That’s—”

“Pamela’s mother,” Gabriel said. “Your maternal grandmother.”

—

Pamela’s mother had babysat me during the murders. I’d known her as Grandma Jean, but my research had said her first name was actually Daere.

“So my mother’s family is from Cainsville,” I said. “Like yours. My grandmother left after she married, according to this announcement.” It said the newlyweds planned to move to Chicago, where John was employed as a factory foreman. “Your mother left, too.”

“Yes, she moved to Chicago when she was pregnant with me.”

“How did you get Pamela’s case?”

“I pursued it after someone brought it to my attention. Yes, that someone was from Cainsville. Ida, in fact. I was not, however, aware that Pamela had any connection to the town. It didn’t come up in our discussions, and there was no reason to delve that far into her family past.”

His fingers drummed the tabletop. Annoyed that he hadn’t known. I was still trying to process it all. I had a connection to Cainsville. My mother’s family came from here. I didn’t know what to make of that, but I had a good idea where to start asking questions.

“Is there any sense speaking to Pamela?” I said. “I hate to, after I said I won’t until she’ll talk about the omens and the hounds.”

“No, this estrangement is wearing her down. She calls daily to see if you’ve changed your mind. Any information she can give on your omens is worth holding out for. I will mention Cainsville at our next meeting.”

“Do you think it means anything?” I asked. “Or is it just a case of townies looking out for townies?”

“I don’t know.” More finger drumming. Then he stopped himself. “We should learn more about Glenys Carew. Find out if there’s anyone here who remembers her. Some of the elders might.”

“Okay.” I closed the laptop. “It’s late.”

“It is. You should get to bed. I’ll stay.”

There was no reason for Gabriel to stay. Did I argue, though? No, I did not. I got out fresh towels for him, said good night, and went to bed.

—

When I got into my room, I texted Ricky.

Heading to bed. Gabriel still here. Sleeping on my sofa bed. Again.

I waited for the reply, wondering how I would interpret a delay. Taking a while to respond because he was busy at the clubhouse? Or because he wasn’t sure what to say about Gabriel staying over?

His reply came less than ten seconds later. LOL. Must be comfortable.

I exhaled. He’d given no signs that he was jealous of my time with Gabriel, but I kept waiting for it. I’m not sure how many guys would be fine with their girlfriend’s boss sleeping on her sofa. I sent a final text and went to bed.

SECURITY

Gabriel sat on the edge of the sofa bed and looked around the moonlit apartment. The window shade was an inch short on all sides, and he could have blamed his sleeplessness on the light streaming through, but that wasn’t the problem.

He opened the blind. Next door was a two-story house, the roofline below the window. There were no larger buildings on this side, no way for anyone to peer into Olivia’s apartment. Or so she’d say. He had only to look at the tree between the apartment and the next house to see an easy vantage point for anyone.