Lon and I looked at each other and nodded. Good to know. Very good. Worth the whole damn doctor visit, if you asked me.

“The best advice I can give you is to be patient, and to pay attention to him,” he concluded. “Have him practice the right and wrong way to use it around you, and monitor his behavior carefully. Severe shifts can be warning signs. If he becomes withdrawn and depressed for no reason, or if he becomes inappropriately wild and begins taking too many risks, you might want to bring him in to talk to me.”

I wondered if the incident on the amusement park ride would be considered “inappropriately wild,” but said nothing while the appointment concluded. On our way downstairs to retrieve Jupe from the waiting room, Lon stopped short in front me.

“What’s wrong?” I said.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just had an epiphany.”

“About Jupe?”

“About the Snatcher investigation.”

I paused. “About the image in the Polaroid?”

“No. Something better.”

I watched him stare at the wallpaper for a long moment, then leaned in and whispered against his ear. “Tell me.”

Something mischievous danced behind his eyes as they met mine. “If it’s not Bishop, then who would be able provide the Snatcher’s real identity?”

Where was he going with this? I became frustrated, then realized what he meant. “Cindy Brolin. But she won’t talk.”

“She won’t talk to us. But what if someone . . . more persuasive . . . asked her nicely?”

WE ARE HERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The text lit up my phone screen with thirteen exclamation points. Coming into the city on a Friday night might be mildly interesting to some kids. To Jupe it was like he’d been given shore leave. I untied my bar apron and told the new bartender that my half-shift was over. Amanda waved good-bye as I headed outside.

Just after ten and already freezing. I zipped up my coat as I climbed the belowground stairs to street level. Lon’s SUV idled at the curb out front. Before I cleared the last step, Jupe jumped from the passenger seat and bounded across the sidewalk to greet me. “So this is what it’s like at night, huh? Wow! The neon looks so cool lit up like that. How many people are inside? You look tired—is it busy in there? Who’s working tonight? Is Kar Yee in there? ”

“Hello to you, too. You think you could maybe ask me about thirty more questions before you let me answer any of them?” I said, poking him in the stomach.

He laughed. “Oops.” Then he did the strangest thing. He leaned down and kissed me on the forehead. Just a casual peck. Something most people would expect from a brother or a friend. Only, I don’t have a brother, and I certainly didn’t have any friends who did that. Amanda often tried to hug me, but she once said I was unhuggable. That hurt my feelings, but not enough to start getting all free-love and touchy-feely.

Jupe, however, definitely had the potential to be excessive with PDA. He liked to hug—a lot—and that’s fine, I suppose. We’d also cuddled up together and watched TV in his room, and yes, he fell asleep in my lap on the couch the other night. And once he’d tried to insert his big toe up my nose; if that’s not affection, I don’t know what is.

But he’d never kissed me.

And it was so casual, like he’d done it a billion times. I guess that’s why he didn’t seem to notice when I froze up on the sidewalk like some socially awkward recluse. He was too busy trying to peer down into Tambuku’s stained glass windows from the top of the stairs. Meanwhile, I wasn’t sure if I was mortified by the kiss, or if I was going to break down sobbing in some weirdo family-bonding moment. The horror of doing just that was enough to snap me back to reality. I tried to play it cool, like it wasn’t a big deal. This is what normal people do. It doesn’t mean anything. Thankfully, Lord Empath was in the car, out of range.

The door to Tambuku swung open and Kar Yee emerged, hiking up the steps. “You might need this,” she called out, holding up my cell. “You left it in your apron.” Her kohl-rimmed eyes fell on Jupe. “Well, well, well. Look who it is—my future boyfriend. What are you doing in the city? Couldn’t stay away from me, huh?”

Jupe’s eyes inflated into giant cartoon peepers in response. “I’m on a mission,” he managed to get out.

“A mission?” Kar Yee’s voice flattened in genuine suspicion. “Is that a religious thing? You’re not one of those irritating door-to-door people, are you?”

“No! I’m—”

“We’re going to the grocery store,” I said, covering up for Jupe’s loose tongue as she handed me my phone. Not a lie, exactly. Dr. Spendlove wanted Jupe to practice his knack in supervised situations. I don’t think what we were about to do was what he had in mind, but it was a situation. And we were supervising . . .

“Hey,” Jupe said to Kar Yee. “You speak Cantonese, not Mandarin, right?”

“Yes.”

“How do you say ‘beautiful girl’ in Cantonese?”

Oh, brother.

“Leng lui.”

Jupe repeated it. She corrected his pronunciation, then added, “We would also say something more casual that translates to ‘your beauty shatters the mirror.’”

“Really?” Jupe was definitely into that colloquialism. It had just the right dose of violence for his tastes. “How do you say that?” he asked with great urgency, then added, “I have to know.”