After twenty minutes, Candace directed me to turn left onto a long dirt driveway. The battered mailbox we passed bore the name West. The sun shed pale streaks of light across the fertile green fields on either side of the drive. Ahead I saw a small blue clapboard house and behind that a dilapidated red barn.

“Robin’s husband left her about five years ago-just up and took off,” Candace said. “This used to be her parents’ home, so at least he didn’t leave her with a mortgage. But raising a kid like Jack alone? That’s been tough.”

“A kid like Jack?” I said.

“Little genius. Mercy Elementary has its hands full trying to teach him anything he doesn’t already know. And he’s sensitive, too. To the food, to the smells, even to what fabrics touch his skin. Never knew smart kids could be as tough to deal with as the ones without as much gray matter.”

As we approached, a black cat slunk out from behind the house and sat on the walkway as if waiting to greet us.

“What a beautiful baby,” I said as I parked behind a white Chevy truck.

“Did you ever meet a cat that wasn’t beautiful?” Candace asked.

“I definitely have not.” I killed the engine, got out and knelt near my van. I reached out, and the cat didn’t hesitate. It came straight to me to be petted.

“That’s Lucy, the barn cat. If you have a barn, you have mice. Lucy has important duties,” Candace said.

Lucy was purring up a storm, her green eyes narrowed to slits.

“Hi, Miss Candace,” I heard a young voice say.

I looked up to see a dark-haired boy wearing Spider-Man pajamas. I guessed his age at about eight or nine.

“And who’ve you brought with you today?” he added.

Candace climbed the two porch steps and gave him a hug before saying, “This here is my friend Miss Jillian Hart.”

“Not ‘this here,’ Miss Candace. Just ‘this’ is all you need to say,” Jack said. He smiled at me. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Jillian.”

“Back at ya. And that’s a colloquialism, by the way,” I said with a grin.

“I know. And ‘this here’ is a regionalism. But people often look down on Southerners because of their grammar, and we can-”

“Jack, what do you think you’re doing?” The woman who spoke sounded irritated. She must have come around from the barn. Her dark brown hair was the exact same shade as Jack’s, and she wore pressed, immaculate blue jeans that contrasted sharply with her muddy but brightly flowered Wellington-style boots.

“Greeting our visitors, Mom. And before you get started, I know I’m wearing my pajamas outdoors. I happen to like them.”

Robin West sighed heavily. “Your teacher will not applaud your choice of clothing if you go to school like that, Son. Please go get dressed.”

Jack hung his head. “I’d prefer to stay home today, but if you insist.” He turned and went into the house.

“He wants to stay home because I’m freaked-out about the cow. He thinks he has to take care of me,” Robin said.

From what I’d overheard on the phone earlier, she was indeed freaked-out about the cow, the one Candace had told me was missing. That left her poor kid with a job-taking care of Mom. But though I only thought these things, Candace had no trouble saying them out loud.

“And who exactly made him decide he had to take care of you? You are putting a burden on that boy, Robin,” Candace said.

Robin stared at her boots. “You’re right. You’re always right, Candy.”

“Don’t go all wimpy on me, girl. I’m just stating the truth, and you can take it. Invite us in so I can find out what happened to Harriett.” Candace glanced at me. “Harriett is the milk cow.”

“Ah,” I said, as if this explained everything.

Robin removed her Wellies and placed them beside the door. We followed her inside the house, with Robin making sure Lucy didn’t sneak in with us. We walked through her small and supremely tidy living room into a spotless kitchen. She offered us coffee, but I couldn’t have drunk another cup if someone had put a funnel in my mouth and poured. Candace must have felt the same way, because we both opted for water.

Robin made herself a cup of tea in the microwave, a ritual that would have taken me two minutes. But Robin, it was becoming apparent, had a little OCD problem. She took her time lining up the tea bags in their box, each one as close to the next as possible. Then she wiped down the microwave, even though all she’d done was boil water. After that, she measured out a quarter cup of milk and stirred it into her tea. I almost dozed off as she washed the spoon, dried it carefully and put in the dishwasher. Finally she joined us at the round kitchen table.

“There,” she said with a sad smile. “And now please help me find Harriett.”

“I’ll do what I can.” Candace took a small notebook from her back jeans pocket. “How far do you think a cow can wander overnight?”

“I don’t know,” Robin said, her voice rising. “She’s never run off before. She hardly comes out of the barn. And now Jack won’t have his raw milk before school, and-”

Candace placed a hand on Robin’s forearm to hopefully control this escalation of emotion. “I know that’s what’s troubling you. But one day without raw milk will be-”

“Wonderful,” came Jack’s voice from the kitchen entry. “I dislike raw milk immensely.”

He was dressed in khaki shorts and a short-sleeved blue polo. I noticed his freckles for the first time-just a sprinkle over his nose, not the hundreds I’d had when I was his age.

Robin checked her watch. “You have your wish. There will be no raw milk today. The school bus will be here soon, so if you will excuse us, I’ll walk Jack down the driveway.”

I stood. “You talk to Candace about your cow. Jack and I can find that bus.”

Robin’s eyes widened, and she half rose. “But-”

“Mom. Please do not embarrass me. I like Miss Jillian. She is Miss Candace’s friend, so you can trust her. She and I can handle a walk down the driveway.”

“But sometimes the bus drives up so close, and-”

Jack had walked over to me and now took my hand. “Let’s go. And, Miss Candace, give Mom a chill pill if you have one handy.”

Before we even made it out the door, Jack’s questions began. “What do you do for a living?”

I turned to give him a smile and said, “I make quilts for cats. And I do charity work making quilts for soldiers’ children-kids whose dads or moms have gone to war,” I said.

“I’ve read a little about the conflicts in the Middle East. The United States needed a better understanding of theocracies before they went to war, wouldn’t you agree?” He kicked a stone at the beginning of the drive as we made our way toward the road.

“Um… yes. I think you’re right. What’s your favorite subject, Jack?”

“All of them.” He was continuing to chase the rock, and I smiled. At least something about this little guy was childlike.

“Why are you with Miss Candace if you make quilts?” he said. “I thought you were a new police officer in training, though you appear older than her. Starting police work at your age is unusual, I would imagine.”

Thanks, I thought. I explained about the premature kittens and our night at the shelter, and by then we’d reached the end of the drive. And right on time, too, because the bus rumbled to a stop next to us a minute later. Jack waved and said we had more to “discuss” about “the infant cats” before the bus doors closed and he was gone.

Even though I was no expert on children-I’d never had any of my own-I knew this was one unusual boy.

“Jillian,” Candace called as I was walking back toward the house. “Come check this out.”

I picked up my pace and soon was standing next to her and Robin in front of the barn.

Candace said, “Robin was right to be concerned. See that padlock?” She pointed at the barn doors.

I stepped closer for a better look and saw immediately that the lock had been cut apart, though the edges of the curve had been placed close together so the damage wouldn’t be quickly noticed. “Someone stole the cow?”