“We’d better let Hutchinson know.” Scott sighed.

“Jeez, I hope we still get to have a bonfire,” Josh said.

* * *

I’m standing in the middle of a street littered with twisted sheet metal, pieces of vinyl siding, a paneled door, and other unrecognizable debris. A few feet away, a flowered sofa that’s remarkably clean sits in the grass near the curb with a young maple tree draped across it. Farther down, a mangled car has been dropped down on top of an otherwise undamaged double-wide. On the lot next to it, someone has pounded a T-post into the ground and raised an American flag.

A dozen mobile homes are crushed as if some drunken giant staggered through, stepping on everything in his path. Several were blown off their foundations. At least two are completely gone, the pieces of which are yet to be found. At the end of the street, a bulldozer pushes debris into a pile that will eventually be loaded into a truck and hauled to the dump. Pieces of peoples’ lives gone in an instant.

Tomasetti and I had risen at the crack of dawn, downed a cup of coffee, and then he’d driven me up to our farm, where I picked up the Explorer. We parted ways after that. Neither of us broached the subject of last night’s discussion, and we didn’t revisit the death of little Lucy Kester.

The American Red Cross, with its iconic red-and-white disaster-relief step van and a small army of volunteers, was already on scene when I arrived, handing out bottled water, serving up hot food, and passing out teddy bears for the traumatized kids.

“Bad as this is, it’s a miracle more people weren’t killed.”

I turn at the sound of Glock’s voice to see him come up behind me. His usually crisp uniform is damp with sweat and streaked with dirt. His trousers are wet from the knee down and clotted with mud.

He shoves a steaming cup of coffee at me. “Thought you might need this.”

“I do. Thanks.” I sip, burning my lip, but it’s worth that pain because it’s hot and strong and just what I needed. “You been out with search and rescue?”

He nods. “No sign of the kid yet.”

“God, I hope they find him. I can’t imagine what the parents are going through.”

“No one’s going to give up.”

I nod. “You know I’ve got you covered with OT, right?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Looking out over the destruction, he sips coffee. “I’da been out looking for him anyway.”

“I know.” I’ve just taken my second sip of coffee when my cell phone chirps.

“Chief.” It’s my dispatcher, Lois Monroe.

“What’s up?”

“I just took a call from a Boy Scout scoutmaster by the name of Ken Hutchinson. He’s got a bunch of kids out at that old barn on Gellerman Road that got hit by the tornado, cleaning up, and he says a couple of boys found a human skull.”

I nearly spill my coffee. “Is he sure it’s human?”