“You can’t know that, boy,” said the Judge, somewhat sharply. Freddy said nothing. As the officer slowly released his grasp, the boy took a free step, backwards, and the other boys surged to surround him. There stood the enemy, the monster who killed and lied, and the grown-ups with their reasonable doubts were on the monster’s side. But the boys knew what Freddy knew. They stood together.

“Somebody,” murmured the Judge’s guest, “somebody’s got to help the boy.” And the Judge sighed.

The cops went up Hannibal Street, toward Matlin’s back lot, with Mr. Daugherty. Matlin lingered at the corner talking to Mrs. Page. In the front window of Matlin’s house the curtain fell across the glass.

Mike Russell sidled up to the housekeeper. “Any uncles or aunts here in town? A grandmother?”

“No,” she said, shortly.

“Brothers or sisters, Mrs. . . .?”

“Miz Somers. No, he’s the only one. Only reason they didn’t take him along was it’s the last week of school and he didn’t want to miss.”

Mike Russell’s brown eyes suggested the soft texture of velvet, and they were deeply distressed. She slid away from their appeal. “He’ll just have to take it, I guess, like everybody else,” Mrs. Somers said. “These things happen.”

He was listening intently. “Don’t you care for dogs?”

“I don’t mind a dog,” she said. She arched her neck. She was going to call to the boy.

“Wait. Tell me, does the family go to church? Is there a pastor or a priest who knows the boy?”

“They don’t go, far as I ever saw.” She looked at him as if he were an eccentric.

“Then school. He has a teacher. What grade?”

“Sixth grade,” she said. “Miss Dana. Oh, he’ll be okay.” Her voice grew loud, to reach the boy and hint to him. “He’s a big boy.”

Russell said, desperately, “Is there no way to telephone his parents?”

“They’re on the road. They’ll be in some time tomorrow. That’s all I know.” She was annoyed. “I’ll take care of him. That’s why I’m here.” She raised her voice and this time it was arch and seductive. “Freddy, better come wash your face. I know where there’s some chocolate cookies.”

The velvet left the young man’s eyes. Hard as buttons, they gazed for a moment at the woman. Then he whipped around and left her. He walked over to where the kids had drifted, near the little dead creature on the grass. He said softly, “Bones had his own doctor, Freddy? Tell me his name?” The boy’s eyes flickered. “We must know what it was that he took. A doctor can tell. I think his own doctor would be best, don’t you?”