Tommy said nothing. He had started to shake all over. Inside his head all he could see was the dead woman’s face—the blood, the gash in her cheek, the ants crawling on her.

“A deputy came into the school and said something had happened,” Miss Navarre said, looking over at the place where the dead lady was. She turned back then and touched Tommy’s forehead and brushed some dead leaves out of his hair. “You’re really pale, Tommy. You should sit down.”

Dutifully he sat down on the stump beside Wendy. Miss Navarre looked as pale as either of them, but there was no more room on the stump.

“Tell me what happened,” she said.

The tale spilled out of Wendy like rushing water. When she came to the part where Tommy fell on the grave, Miss Navarre closed her eyes and said, “Oh my God.”

She bent down to Tommy’s level and looked him straight in the eyes. “Are you all right?”

Tommy gave the smallest nod. “I’m okay.”

His voice sounded like it came from far away.

“Wait here,” she said. “I’m going to ask the deputies if I can take you home.”

She walked over to the yellow tape stretched between the trees and tried to get the attention of Dennis Farman’s dad, who seemed to be the big shot on the scene.

The two exchanged words. Miss Navarre gestured toward Dennis. Farman’s father shook his head. They were arguing. Tommy could tell by the way they were standing—Miss Navarre with her hands on her hips, Mr. Farman puffing himself up and leaning over her. Then Miss Navarre raised a hand and ended the discussion.

She was angry when she came back, although she did her best to hide it. Tommy could feel it all around her like frozen air.

“Come on,” she said, reaching out her hands to them. “I’m taking you home.”

At ten Tommy generally considered himself too old to hold hands with an adult. He couldn’t remember the last time his mother had held his hand. Kindergarten, maybe. But he didn’t feel so grown-up now, and he took Miss Navarre’s soft, smooth hand and held on tight as she led them away from the terrible scene and out of the woods.

But the scene came with Tommy, stuck in his head; he felt sick at the idea that it might never go away.

Chapter 4

4

Anne Navarre felt herself shaking inside as she walked away from Frank Farman and the crime scene her students had stumbled upon—shaking from the shock of what she had just seen, shaking with anger at Frank Farman. He was too busy to deal with her. He would take care of his own kid in his own time—as if he thought letting his son watch the exhumation of a corpse would be good for him. Asshole.