The late-afternoon sun shone down on the pond, which was almost full now since the heavy rain. She could see the reflection of the Judas tree in the center. A shudder rippled up and down her arms.

“I can’t believe I ever climbed that tree. I wasn’t afraid of much back then, but I was afraid of the zip line. I was afraid of that tree, too. I don’t know why, because it’s so beautiful. We put our initials in it that last week. Come on, Atlas, I want to see if they’re still there.”

The shepherd was so close to her leg she could feel his body heat. It was comforting. She was winded when she climbed to the top of the embankment. She stopped, remembering her dream. Where had she hidden that day? Where was the spot she’d cowered in before she’d yelled out to Andy? Maybe she could find it another day when she wasn’t so jittery. The tall grass made everything look different. She felt saddened that this lovely spot was no longer the Robin Hood playground of her youth. It looked ugly and frightening. Anyone or anything could hide in the tall weeds.

How strange that nothing grew beneath the Judas tree. Not even moss. The ground was squishy soft after the rain. Weeds grew everywhere, even between slabs of concrete. Why didn’t weeds grow under the Judas tree? Was it important for her to know the answer?

She saw the initials then and smiled. Until she saw her own, or what was left of them. Pete had carved them. Andy had carved Amy’s. Pete had said they would last forever and ever or until the tree died. Forever and ever was a long time.

She felt sick to her stomach when her fingers reached her gouged-out initials. Someone must have hated her a lot to do something like that. Jeff King.

It had been such a happy day. They’d picnicked under the tree, danced and played, singing and laughing. Pete held her hand that day when they ran around and around the tree until they got dizzy.

She saw the hair on Atlas’s neck stand on end before she heard his deep growl. She swung around to see a patrol car parked next to her own. Staring at her was a police officer dressed in gunmetal gray, his hand on the holster at his side. “Can’t you read?” he bellowed.

Cady nodded as she made her way to her car. “Easy boy, easy.”

“Yes, I’m sorry. I didn’t touch anything. I just came here to see the tree because it’s so beautiful.”

“You’re going to get a ticket for that. I could see if you didn’t see one sign, but there are eleven signs. You had to have seen one of them.”

“All right. I’ll take the ticket,” Cady said as she opened the door for the shepherd. “Just as a matter of curiosity, where were you when the others were tromping around here?” she asked, boldly pointing to the trampled-down grass. “I didn’t do that, so it has to mean someone else was out here.”