The judge clapped his gavel down and pointed it at Dave’s head. “Contain yourself, sir. It is my ruling that Malachi Dufresne be remanded to the Moccasin Bend mental health facility for psychological evaluation, and then he will be returned to court for sentencing in sixty days’ time.” He dropped the gavel again and stood.

The rest of us rose too, and people began to mill about the courtroom, draining gradually through the exits like a congregation slipping out of church after services. A bailiff came to escort my assailant back into state custody. Lulu put an arm around my shoulder and guided me towards the aisle. “They’ll keep him,” she told me, squeezing me quickly. “They won’t let him go for a long time. Don’t worry.”

Just then the white-topped aunt came thrusting her elbows forward through the crowd. She knocked aside a middle-aged man talking to a boy about my age and did not even turn to acknowledge them. Instead she turned sideways to pass us by, glowering over her shoulder with chilly blue eyes. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but Lulu cut her off.

“Keep on walking, Tatie.”

“I was just going to say—”

“I said, keep on walking, Tatie Eliza. You will leave this child alone.”

The crone could not disregard the giantess Lulu, but she was not afraid of her. “Blood will tell,” she said, her voice reeking with contempt. “That’s all I was going to say.”

“And now you’ve said it, so you keep on moving.”

But the little old lady blocked our escape. She dropped her gaze from Lulu to me. Lulu tried to push me back behind her, but I wouldn’t go. I wanted to look at this ancient matriarch who refused to stand aside.

She wanted to look at me too. “They haven’t told you, have they girl? Not half the truth, I bet they haven’t.”

I shifted to dislodge myself from Lulu’s sheltering grasp, but she wouldn’t have it, so I stayed put whether I liked it or not. I craned my neck around her waist and inquired across the aisle. “What . . . what are you—stop it, Lulu, I want to—”

A small head was in the way. It was the boy she’d pushed apart from the man I supposed was his father. The boy stared at me, or through me, as if he could see something inside that I wanted to keep hidden. I tried to lean around him, but his sharp nose demanded my attention. I reached for him to push him away, but his father grabbed him first—like he didn’t want me to touch his kid. He drew the child away from me as if I was contaminated.