His mommy said, “Tell you what. Tomorrow is the 4-H trip, right? You guys are going to get up super-early and go help set up the Bad Axe County Farm Breakfast at the Olsons’ farm, right? I know you’re excited about that. And on the way you’re going to stop at Elmo Pond and feed the giant goldfish. Oh, my gosh, some people say that when they got dumped in the pond they were the size of your thumb, and they grew to ten pounds. That’s exciting. Maybe you’ll see one.”

She paused for air. Taylor had dropped his scowl and both boys looked at her in perfect eager twinness, equal in their anticipation. She made eye contact with Harley. He read her mind and nodded.

“So it’s going to be like this,” she said. “That trip is a privilege, and privileges become ours when we earn them by doing what we’re supposed to do. So, Taylor, if you want to go on the field trip tomorrow, you’ll need to have your apologies written by then.”

Another pause. Her heart thumped. Her stomach had begun to feel weird again.

“Does that sound fair to everyone?”

Dylan nodded.

Harley nodded.

“Taylor?”

“Look!” he insisted, thrusting the forked blueberries farther toward the center of the table, his face bunched and sweaty. “Look!”

“We see, honey.” She swallowed a lump of distress. “That’s awesome.”

Then Taylor dropped the fork, pushed his chair back, and stomped up the creaky old stairs to the boys’ bedroom. The door slammed. Harley unplugged a fan from the kitchen wall and followed him up.

As soon as he dared, Dylan said, “Good job, Mom. He’s doing it.”

Toward the end of her journey into Farmstead, she took a call from Dr. Patel about Patience Goodgolly.

“This is Sheriff Kick. Go ahead.”

“Good morning, Sheriff. First some good news, I think. She allowed us to fully examine her for injuries. We found no indications of forced intercourse. We don’t believe she was raped. At least, not in the conventional sense.”

The sheriff stiffened and gripped her steering wheel.

“What do you mean, not raped in the conventional sense?”

“Well, first of all,” the doctor said, “the young lady is not a virgin. She has no intact hymen. And the blood on her was not from tearing it. She is either menstruating, Sheriff, or she’s pregnant and she’s spotting. But she wouldn’t let us draw blood.”

“I see.”

“If we knew how old she was, and if she was a minor, there could be a statutory rape charge, yes?”

“Yes.”

“So if we suspected pregnancy in a minor, maybe then we could establish yes or no with a blood test, for purposes of a criminal investigation.”

She had that right. “Dr. Patel, isn’t there some way you can tell me how old she is?”