“Just find the hellhounds,” Charlie said. “No matter what is going on with Sophie, they’ll protect her.”
“And how do I do that? Put up posters with their picture. Lost: two four-hundred pound indestructible dogs. Answer to the names Alvin and Mohammed? Hmm?”
“It might work.”
“How did you find them?”
“Find them? I couldn’t get them to go away. I kept throwing biscuits in front of the number 90 Crosstown Express bus to get rid of them. But she needs them.”
“She needs her daddy, Charlie. Let me tell her you’re alive. I understand if you don’t want her to see you, but we can tell her you’re out of town. You can talk to her on the phone. Your voice is kind of the same—a little scratchier and squeakier, but close.”
“No, Jane. Just keep pushing through like you have been. You guys have done a great job with Sophie.”
“Thanks,” Cassie said. “I always liked you, Charlie. Thanks for trusting me to be one of Sophie’s mommies.”
“Sure. I’ll figure something out, I need to talk to someone who knows more than me. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” Jane said. She disconnected and looked up to see Sophie coming out of her room, a hopeful light in her eyes.
“I heard you say ‘Charlie,’ ” she said. “Was that Daddy? Were you talking to Daddy?”
Jane went down on one knee and held her arms out to Sophie. “No, sweetie. Daddy’s gone. I was just talking to someone about your daddy. Seeing if they could help us find the goggies.”
“Oh,” said Sophie, walking into her auntie’s embrace. ”I miss him.”
“I know, honey,” Jane said. She rested her cheek on Sophie’s head and felt her heart break for the little kid for the third time that day. She blinked away tears and kissed the top of Sophie’s head. “But if I’ve fucked up my eyeliner again you’re getting another time-out.”
“Come here,” Cassie said, crouching down. “Come to nice mommy. We’ll have ice cream.”
Over at the Three Jewels Buddhist Center, Bob the Beefeater looked at the dead phone, then at Charlie. “Lab animals? Little harsh.”
The Squirrel People nodded. It was a little harsh.
“Jane’s a very damaged person,” Charlie said with a shrug of apology.
Bob looked at the other Squirrel People in their miniature finery and mismatched spare parts. “We’ll be under the porch if you need us,” he said. He trudged out of the dining room. The Squirrel People fell in behind him. Those with lips pouted.
When the last of them was out of the room, Charlie looked to Audrey.
“Something’s going on.”
“Apparently.”
“My daughter needs me.”
“I know.”
“We need to find her dogs.”
“I know.”
“But she can’t see me like this.”
“I can sew you a different outfit,” said Audrey.
“I need a body.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.”