We had both moved on with our lives, even though something elemental kept pulling us together again—like gravity. Being around him always got my blood pressure zinging. With the radio blasting another old Dooce tune, I drove up into Lawrenceville to pick up Nooch for the day. But he wasn’t on his usual corner, so I checked my watch and realized I was an hour early. On an impulse, I cut down through the neighborhood and ended up in the parking lot of the Carnegie library branch. I’ll admit I was uneasy about what might have happened to Clarice Crabtree. It wouldn’t hurt to do a little reading about her. Sister Bob’s Dodge Neon sat in the spot designated for Our Angel Volunteers alongside the dilapidated vehicles the librarians drove. I backed into a parking space so the word painted on the tailgate wouldn’t offend any library patron who might peek out through an upstairs window. I left Rooney in the truck with a window cracked. He was happy to be left alone with his bone. I cut around the back of the building to the employee entrance.
