“All right. Sheer curiosity, I guess. Were you out that night? The night it rained so much?”

“Only an idiot would voluntarily go out in weather like that.”

He looked at her, taking her measure. He didn’t seem totally satisfied with the conclusions he drew. “Eggleston and his buddies did make quite a scene at the funeral,” Smith said. “I understand he went to Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton yesterday and made an apology. Said it was just a tribute gone wrong.”

“Hmm. Well, he did the right thing.”

“I’ll be on my way. I’m glad I got a chance to talk to you, Fiji.”

“Same here, Sheriff.”

He left, putting on his hat the moment he stepped outside. After the door shut behind him, Manfred said, “Give the guy a break, Fiji. You could have called him Arthur.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not in the mood to make stuff easy today. You want to help me carry in the pumpkins?”

“Sure.” He needed to stretch. Too much time at the computer desk.

“I really am sorry about Creek,” she said, when they’d finished. They both sighed when they heard a car pull into Fiji’s driveway. “They’re already starting to come.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about Creek, too. But I guess this way is better for her. Where is Connor?”

“Where the two guys who came to beat up Bobo are, I guess,” she said, which was no answer at all.

“And that is?” He was impatient.

“If I can figure it out, you can,” she said, and then her first class member came in the door.

The following week, after everything had seemed to fall back to normal and the papers had stopped putting Connor’s school picture on the front page every day (due to his confession, the district attorney charged him as an adult), Manfred got a phone call. It was a number he didn’t recognize, but he got a lot of those, and he answered it without any expectation.

“Do you know who this is?” the voice said.

“Yes,” he answered, just as guardedly. It was Creek.

“We’re okay,” she said. “We’re north of where we were. It’s a lot colder! Hard to get used to.”

“Are you really okay?” He didn’t know what else to ask.

“As much as we can be. Dad got a job. Me, too. The same kind of work I did for Madonna.”

She was waiting tables.

“They treating you right?”

“Yeah, it’s okay. I miss you.”

“Same here.”

“I’ll try to call again sometime.”

“I want to hear from you.”

“I’m glad to hear your voice. I really am. Okay. Bye.”

“Bye.”