I grabbed another two because experience taught me the one in his mouth would barely survive the trip home. Mr. Jasper finished his carrot stick, so I pulled another from the bag in my pocket and let him get a few good chews in before I dropped the dog toys on the register conveyor belt.

"I've got a loyalty card," I said to the blue-haired cashier as she rang up our purchases.

She eyed Mr. Jasper as he gnawed on his carrot. I glanced in the other direction and pretended it was perfectly normal to have a bunny strapped to my chest in a baby carrier. The thing actually worked really well. Except when he got a good nibble on my fingers, but that only happened when I got distracted and he finished the carrot before I realized it. So, like... five times.

"Be careful feeding him carrots. You don't want to overdo it," the cashier said as she pushed the last dog toy across the scanner.

I scoffed. "It's a bunny."

Her eyes widened as she clicked buttons on her register. "That will be fifteen seventy-nine, and rabbits can get diabetes from too many carrots."

My eyebrows pulled in, creating lines on my forehead. "No, they can't."

Could they?

She nodded with her eyes round as she spoke slowly. "Yes, they can."

I whipped my attention to Mr. Jasper. Diabetes? In a bunny?

"How many are too many?" I asked as I swiped my card at the reader.

She shrugged. "I'd say no more than a couple a week."

I swallowed hard and tried to cover Mr. Jasper's ears. "A week?"

He'd had three since we'd gotten in the car.

She stared at me like I had a gun to the bunny's head. I ripped the carrot from between his thick two front teeth.

"These are low sugar carrots," I said and forced a laugh. "Keeping him healthy."

The cashier held out my bag, and I tore it from her hand before speed walking from the store. What was Broadrick thinking letting me buy the bunny carrots? What if we killed him?

"You're going to be fine." I unlocked my car and tugged NB into it while sizing up Mr. Jasper's head in my hands. "Don't listen to a thing that crazy woman said."

I had to say something to calm the bunny. His head bobbed back and forth in search of the half-eaten carrot I'd shoved in my pocket. Great, I'd gotten him addicted.

NB started in on another rendition of window art, where he used his tongue to paint pictures over the passenger window. I grabbed my phone and googled bunny diabetes.

"Shit. It's true."

Mr. Jasper nibbled on the air in my car.

"Fuck. Okay, this is fine," I said to the bunny. "Once we get home, we'll put you on a strict diet. Lettuce only."

What else did bunnies eat? I had to research more when we made it home if he survived that long.

I sent B a text as I started the car.

VONNIE: We're killing Mr. Jasper!!!!

He responded quickly.

BROADRICK: What? When?

I waited at the end of the parking lot before pulling into traffic to message him again.

VONNIE: Google didn't say, probably a few years. Right? I'm coming home!

He texted me back, but I'd already started on the road and didn't stop to read it. Every second I waited was another second closer to diabetes for Mr. Jasper.

My phone rang as I turned out of the parking lot.

I answered, expecting Broadrick. "This isn't the time, B. Google how to pump a bunny's stomach for me."

"What did you do to Mr. Jasper?" Katy asked.

I pulled the phone from my ear and read her name on the screen. Oh. Not Broadrick.

"Nothing. Mr. Jasper is fine. We're just practicing Broadrick's emergency preparedness. You know how those SEALs are."

"Sure," she said, but I wasn't convinced she bought it. "I tried to set up an appointment with Frasier tonight since I accidentally missed ours this morning."

We both snickered.

"What'd he say?"

"He didn't go for it," her voice fell. "He said he didn't have time because he had a late-night appointment elsewhere."

"Really?" I hummed that over for a second. Who could he be meeting with at night?

"I tried to get more out of him, but he was tightlipped. He used the word she, so it's definitely a female."

Interesting.

"This is great. Thanks, Katy," I said and pulled a U-turn in the middle of the road. "I've got to go."

"Figured," she said, her voice bright again.

We hung up, and I selected Frasier's home address from the list of them in my GPS.

"We'll work some of that sugar out of your system with an adventure," I said to Mr. Jasper as I rubbed one of his long ears and drove to my new destination.

Frasier lived fifteen minutes away from the pet store, and I parked three blocks away. Far enough for me to still see his driveway, but not make him suspicious. Hopefully.

NB switched areas of the window. A long dribble of drool eked its way down the window, and I tried to ignore it, but the image was now seared into my brain for life.

"How do you make so much spit?" I asked as a man walked out of Frasier's home.

I leaned against my steering wheel to get a better view. He was too far away for me to make out his face, but he had the right height for Frasier. And the preppy outfit in his dark-colored suit. He jumped in his sports car and backed out of the driveway without stopping to put in an address.

He wanted to look nice for his meeting and he knew the way. Both important clues.

I ducked as he drove past me and then waited thirty seconds. Maybe I should have followed him, but I wanted in his house, and he'd just left me the perfect time. NB scratched at the door handle, wanting out.

Could I leave him and Mr. Jasper in the car?

No.

"Come on, children. It's field trip time."

I fell from the vehicle as NB jumped over me with Mr. Jasper strapped to my chest to get out of the car first. He yanked on his leash when he ran out of room.

"Hang on, you monster." I closed the door, locked up, then strolled toward Frasier's home like I belonged on the street.

A neighbor two houses down from his approached the road, rolling out a big green trash can. I waved and smiled before they got the chance, but he returned it quickly.

That's right. Just a friendly neighbor with a bunny on her chest going for a walk. Nothing to see here.

"Evening," he said before turning around and walking up his driveway as we passed.

I repeated the gesture. Man, friendly neighborhoods were the worse. They saw everything. It added an extra layer to the already dangerous job of breaking and entering.

The noise of his garage door hitting the cement of his driveway acted as my cue. I darted into Frasier's yard and walked toward the backyard like I did it every day. Half of getting away with shit was just acting like you had permission.

Once we cleared the small row of trees, I took a hard turn to the left and ran toward his back door. NB barked, loving the exercise, and I had to shush him.

I did a once-over for a camera-Frasier being a private eye and all. It meant he was extra safe or too confident. When I didn't spot any cameras in the back door, I decided on too confident. One of the major male failings. Of course, I hadn't let Broadrick put any cameras in my place either. It's possible I was just as bad.

Picking his lock took less than two minutes-I'd been practicing-and I let all of us in.

"Wow," I whispered as I walked inside the empty home.

Frasier really was going on a trip, and apparently, he didn't plan on returning. Boxes lined the wall of his small breakfast area two rows deep. He had more than I did when I moved. Probably the entire house. A pile of papers littered the top of the table. I started us in that direction. NB's nails clicked against the tile floors.

He tugged me to the left down a carpeted hallway, but I yanked back. "Not yet."

The partners had mounds of unpaid bills, but lived like they were super successful. They had a receptionist and Frasier drove a sports car. I wanted to see what secrets he kept hidden in his personal mail.

I turned toward the table, ready to search through the papers, when a worrying sound stopped me in my tracks. What was that?

It sounded like running water. Something I'd heard before.

A steam of it. Huh?

Pee. It sounded like pee!

I jerked on NB's leash and opened my mouth in horror. "NB, no!"

But I was too late. He was already mid-stream with his leg lifted as he painted the bottom section of the hallway wall. "What are you doing? Bad dog!"