But she couldn’t trust him. She wouldn’t go to the Witching Waves; she’d head for the Lagoon and lose him there. She broke into a run, but when she looked back again, there he was, dogging her. She kept on a few more yards, finally whirled to confront him.

“Stop following me!”

“Not following. I’m tailing you.” He removed his hat and fanned his face. “You hungry?”

“What?”

“Hungry. You look hungry. I’ll get us some corn.”

He turned and walked to the hot-buttered-corn stand. She watched him, torn between her suspicion and her empty stomach.

Hunger won. She waited till he came back with two dripping ears and handed her both without speaking. She ate them quickly, before he could ask her to share. When she was done, she wiped her hands on her knickerbockers. Henry stood motionless as a wax figure from the Ten-in-One, again gazing at the Infant Incubators.

“Why do you do that?” she demanded. He flinched but didn’t look away. “Those girls—why are you always watching them?”

“Protecting them,” he grunted without looking at her.

“Lemme see that card again,” she said. “From your detective agency.”

She drew up alongside him, her hands clenched. Let him think she’d punch him; maybe he’d run away. Instead he just looked around furtively, gestured for her to follow him to a grove of trees. She hesitated, then joined him. He glanced around again, pulled out his cardboard wallet, and sorted through its contents with exaggerated care. Scraps of paper spilled to the grass.

Trash, she thought with disdain, he’s got nothing but trash in there.

She bent to pick them up, then froze, staring at a newspaper photo: a black-and-grey smudge that might have been clouds but wasn’t. It was the top portion of a picture of her sister.

Chapter 42

Chapter 42

ABRIANA’S THICK DARK hair was held back by a ribbon that the newspaper photograph had turned to ash. The photo had been taken on Easter, just a few weeks before she disappeared. It was the last time Pin and her mother had attended Mass at Assumption, the Italian church closest to Little Hell. A man from the Examiner stood outside the church after Mass and shot photographs of the congregation as they left.

She and Abriana had been crushed when the newspaper photo never appeared. By the time it did, it accompanied an article about a girl who had been missing for two days. She stared at the clipping, words she’d memorized without realizing it.

Police continue their search for ten-year-old Abriana Onofria, missing since April 13, and believed to have been abducted by a vagrant. She was last seen wearing a smocked yellow dress, pink hair ribbon and black shoes and stockings. Members of the public are encouraged to share any information they may have with the police department.