I thought I would go out into the woods myself, maybe tomorrow. I’d be alone then. I knew that Heidi’s nose and eyes—and Basim’s, for that matter—were far more acute than mine, but I had an overwhelming impulse to see what I could see. Once again, something stirred in the back of my head, a memory that wasn’t a memory. Something to do with the woods . . . with a hurt man in the woods. I shook my head to rid myself of the haziness, and I realized I couldn’t hear any voices.

“Claude,” I called.

“Here!”

I walked around a clump of bushes and saw the fairy and the little boy enjoying the whirligig. That’s what I’d always called it, anyway. It’s circular, several kids can stand on it, a few others run around the edges pushing, and then it whirls in a circle until the impetus is gone. Claude was pushing it way too fast, and though Hunter was enjoying it, his grin was looking a little tense, too. I could see the fear in his brain, seeping through the pleasure.

“Whoa, Claude,” I said, keeping my voice level. “That’s enough speed for a kid.” Claude stopped pushing, though he was reluctant. He’d been having a great time himself.

Though Hunter pooh-poohed my warning, I could tell he was relieved. He hugged Claude when Claude told him he had to go to Monroe to open up his club. “What kind of club?” Hunter asked, and I had to give Claude a significant look and keep my head blank.

“See you later, sport,” the fairy told the child, and hugged him back.

It was time for an early lunch, so I took Hunter to McDonald’s as a big treat. His dad hadn’t mentioned any ban on fast food, and I figured one trip was okay.

Hunter loved his Happy Meal, ran the toy car from the container over the tabletop until I was absolutely tired of it, and then wanted to go into the play area. I was sitting on a bench watching him, hoping the joys of the tunnels and the slide would hold him for at least ten more minutes, when another woman came out the door into the fenced area, with a boy about Hunter’s age in tow. Though I practically heard the ominous thud of bass drums, I kept a smile pasted on my face and hoped for the best.

After a few seconds of regarding each other warily, the two boys began shouting and running around the small play area together, and I relaxed, but cautiously. I ventured a smile at Mom, but she was brooding off into the distance, and I didn’t have to read her mind to see she’d had a bad morning. (I discovered that her dryer had broken down, and she couldn’t afford another one for at least two months.)