We traced our route of yesterday and alternately slid and bumped our way through the nearly deserted streets to the back of Tom Almand’s property. The area where all the police and media vehicles had parked was a churned-up mess, the black mud hardened into a sea filled with black crests. Tolliver parked where it would be very hard to see our car from the house. I got out of the car and moved carefully to the barn. What had I missed there?

Inside the barn, the air was cold and still and stale, and there were several holes in the dirt floor. This was where the sacrificed animals had been exhumed. I thought about the boy, Chuck, but then I banished the picture of his sad eyes from my mind, and I concentrated on opening myself to the vibration that came uniquely from the dead—the human dead.

When I opened my eyes, Chuck Almand was standing in front of me.

“Oh, God, you scared me, boy!” I said, raising a gloved hand to my throat.

He was wearing heavy boots and a heavy coat, a hat and gloves and a scarf, so he was appropriately dressed for the weather, at least.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. “Did you think you’d missed something?”

“Yes,” I said. I had no reasonable story to tell. “Yes, I wondered if I’d missed something.”

“You thought there might be dead people here?”

“I was checking.”

“There aren’t any. They’re all dug up, out at Davey’s old farm.”

“You don’t know of any others?”

His eyes flickered then, and I heard someone else outside. Thank God.

The door of the barn opened, and my brother came in. “Hey, Chuck,” he said casually. “Honey, you finished?”

“Yeah, I think so,” I said. “Negative results, like we expected.”

Chuck Almand’s light, bright eyes were fixed on me. “Don’t be scared of me,” he said.

“I don’t believe I am,” I said, trying to smile. And it was true I wasn’t exactly frightened of the boy. But I did feel very uncomfortable around him, and I was concerned about him in an impersonal kind of way.

Then I heard another voice calling from outside, “Chuck! Hey, buddy, you in there? Who’s here?” To my bewilderment, Chuck’s face changed in the blink of an eye, and the boy punched me in the stomach as hard as he could. His lips moved as he hit; I saw them on my way down to the floor.

“Get out of here!” he screamed as I stared up at him from my kneeling position on the cold dirt. “Get out! You’re trespassing!”

Tom Almand dashed in, the door to the old barn creaking and groaning as it kept moving after he’d shoved it. “Son, son! Oh, my God, Chuck, what did you do?”