The tall grass behind the garage was still wet from the morning. Petunia sat with her haunches pressed into the damp earth, her front paws planted wide, her head cocked just slightly to the left. She watched Johnny Maverick stand by the fence line, his guitar slung across his chest like a thing he was still learning to hold. He played the same chord three times. Each time it came out wrong. Petunia didn't blink. Her ears shifted forward, catching the way the note bent and fell flat against the wooden fence. She knew that sound. It was the same sound Bob made when he was tracing something in the dirt, trying to remember a word he'd heard but couldn't place. Johnny stopped. He stared at his fingers on the frets. Then he played the chord again. It rang true this time. A clean, open note that carried across the yard and slipped through the crack in the garage door. Petunia let out a soft breath. She lowered her head onto her paws, her tail sweeping a slow arc through the wet grass. Johnny looked over his shoulder at her, and for a moment, neither of them moved. The guitar hummed against his chest, the chord still hanging in the air. "You knew I'd get it," he said quietly. Petunia's tail swept again. From the house, a screen door creaked open. Bob stepped onto the porch, a folded piece of paper in his hand. He was pale. The paper trembled. "Johnny," he said. His voice cracked. "You need to see this." Petunia was already on her feet. The grass bent beneath her weight as she moved toward the porch, her eyes fixed on Bob's face. Johnny set the guitar against the fence and walked over. He took the paper. Read it. His face drained of color. "Where'd you find this?" "Tucked under the windshield wiper of your truck." Petunia pressed her nose against Bob's hand. She could feel the fast beat of his heart through his palm. Johnny folded the paper slowly. "They know we're looking." The chord he'd finally played was fading now, swallowed by the sound of wind through dry grass. Petunia stayed close to Bob's leg, her eyes fixed on the treeline beyond the fence. Something was out there. And it was getting closer.