Robin had her arms wrapped around herself. “I just saw the door ajar. I didn’t realize the lock was cut. Unbelievable. I want Harriett back, and I want to know who would do this to my Jack.”

To Jack? That didn’t make sense at first, but then I got it. “Maybe they didn’t know about Jack and his raw milk,” I said gently. “Maybe they simply wanted a cow.”

“That’s a problem, too,” she said. “How did they know I even had a cow? Did they come sneaking around here in the dead of night? I mean, I have a precious child. What if they’d taken him instead of Harriett?”

I pictured a black-clad stranger standing between the barn and the house thinking, “Cow or kid? Hmmmm… guess I’ll go for the cow.” Then I immediately admonished myself for being so insensitive. Robin was upset, and for good reason.

Candace said, “You know how people talk in this town. The fact that you have a cow is well-known.”

Very true. I’d learned that everyone knew everything about everyone’s business in Mercy. Just then I was distracted by a glimpse of Lucy streaking from the barn. She kept running down the driveway. That cat was definitely on a mission.

Candace, meanwhile, was trying to calm Robin down. “I’ll look into this, Robin. But first I need some sleep.”

I was still watching Lucy, and then I saw why she’d been in such a hurry. “What color is Harriett?”

“She’s a black-and-white Jersey,” Robin said.

I pointed down the driveway. “Like that?”

Robin’s hands flew to her lips before she took off running toward the lumbering cow. The poor cow looked as tired as I felt.

We all met up with Harriett in the driveway, and Candace lifted a piece of a rope dangling from the cow’s neck. “This what you use to tie her up?”

Robin shook her head. “She doesn’t need to be tethered. She never wanders farther than the fields.”

“Looks like she escaped from whoever took her, then.” Candace carefully removed the rope remnant from Harriett’s neck with a smile. “And the thief left me a piece of evidence.”

Oh no, I thought, managing to keep myself from groaning. I’d seen that gleam in Candace’s eyes before. Anything that she considers evidence is a treasure. She had a bovine mystery this time, and for some reason, I had a sinking feeling I’d be involved in her quest for answers.

I had never worked the graveyard shift, but I shouldn’t have been surprised to learn that there is nothing my three cats like better than my spending the day in bed. Even Merlot, my twenty-pound red Maine coon, had stretched out beside me. He rarely joins me for sleep, so I was surprised he chose to hunker down on the bed. Chablis, the Himalayan, planted herself on my chest, and Syrah, my Abyssinian, used my legs for a bed.

Robin’s cow was back home, and all was well with the world. Okay, her world, not Candace’s. My friend had been extra quiet during the drive to her house, tightly clutching the paper lunch bag where she’d stowed the piece of rope. As my threesome’s purring lulled me to sleep, I wondered whether Police Chief Mike Baca would let her work a case if the stolen “item”-not the best word for a cow, I admit-was no longer stolen. Somehow I didn’t think so.

I awoke at about three o’clock in the afternoon. My cats may have been used to sleeping away most of the daylight hours, but I wasn’t. I felt groggy, which I decided was due to a serious coffee hangover. I stumbled into the shower for a wake-up call, and when I came back into the bedroom, I saw all three cats circled around a bug on the floor. On closer inspection I saw it was a dead spider. They’d made quick work of the poor thing, and before one of them ate it, I grabbed a tissue from the bedside stand and tossed the spider in the trash.

The disappointed trio wandered in the direction of the kitchen while I made the bed. The quilt, which was large enough to cover the entire bed, had been a favorite of my late husband, John. I’d completed it for him before we’d married-a bear-paw design made from plaids I’d bought during a trip to Lancaster, Pennsylvania. Having something he loved close to me while I slept made the nights easier-and it was getting easier now that more than a year had passed. Grief was a fickle friend-embracing me at times and abandoning me at others. I supposed that was better than the constant companion it had been during the six months right after John died.

As soon as I’d smoothed out the quilt and propped the sham-covered pillows against the headboard, Chablis appeared and jumped back on the bed to settle down for another snooze.

Merlot was waiting for me in the kitchen. He’d changed into even more of a watch-cat than before. After all, last fall his best buddy, Syrah, had been nabbed, and then I’d allowed a murderer into our home-albeit unknowingly. Yes, Merlot had been in hypervigilant mode ever since, his usual warbly meow all but disappeared. His vocals were deeper, almost as if he felt he needed to sound strong. Every bedroom door had to be open, every noise attended to.

I fed Merlot and Syrah-Chablis enjoyed her naps too much to appear right now-and was making a fresh gallon of sweet tea when I heard Candace’s familiar rappity-rap-rap on my back door. Merlot sat down by the door, staring at the knob. I called to her that it was unlocked as I squeezed the tea bags over the big pitcher and threw them in the trash can under the sink.

“Hey there,” she said as she entered, bending to pet Merlot. He didn’t stay around, just sort of hopped playfully and took off to a new hiding place, one never far from me.

Candace looked so fresh, so wide awake, so… young. Boy, how I missed bouncing back awake like that.

“I can’t believe I didn’t have sweet tea ready for this awful afternoon awakening,” I said.

“Sweet tea can fix anything.” She wore blue jeans and a pink T-shirt, and her blond hair was loose on her shoulders. I considered her pretty even without makeup. Especially when her eyes still glittered as much as when we’d parted this morning.

This visit had to be about her piece of evidence. Candace is enamored of evidence, is engaged in a constant love affair with all things criminal. “Grab some ice, would you?” I poured liquid cane sugar into the hot tea while Candace scooped out a handful from the ice maker.

As she plopped the cubes into the pitcher, she said, “I have an idea. But I think you should have tea first.”

She was right about that, because Candace obviously had an agenda. I put two glasses on the counter, and she poured. I added more ice to our drinks, and we went around the counter, past the dining room table and into my connecting living room.

Candace settled onto the sofa and got right to it. “I’m staking out Robin’s barn tonight, hoping the thief will come back. That cow got away, and I’m betting someone wants it back. Care to join me?”

“Um, I am not exactly a police officer,” I said. Another night shift? I might not survive.

“Doesn’t matter. I’ve gotten permission for you to do a ride-along. Citizens pay the bills, and they’re entitled to see how we officers spend our time.”

“Your boss, Mike Baca, gave you permission to take me with you?” That seemed impossible considering how we’d gone nose to nose last year and the chief of police was sure I’d been wrong about… well, just about almost everything.

“The chief is on vacation. Did you know he has a daughter from his first marriage? He’s gone to see her in Florida for spring break.”

“I didn’t know.” It made me realize that Candace didn’t know about Kara, John’s daughter-and my stepdaughter-either. Talking about Kara was difficult for me, but I did miss hearing from her. In fact, I hadn’t heard from her since her dad’s funeral, but I figured she’d call when she was ready. “So you don’t exactly have permission for this stakeout? I’m not sure I-”