There they were, sitting in the dark on some swings, smoking, the lighted ends of their cigarettes orange fireflies. Sue Kramer could smell the beer from yards away. As she and Reyes approached, Rand Duchay tossed his can of Bud onto the grass, but the smaller one, Troy Turner, didn’t even try to hide it.

Taking a deep swig as she came face-to-face with him. Staring right back at her with the coldest fuck-you eyes she’d seen in a long time.

Ignore the eyes and he was a surprisingly small, frail-looking kid with pipe-stem arms and a pale triangular face under a mop of untrimmed dirty-blond hair. He’d shaved his head clean at the sides, which made the top-growth look even bigger. The manager had said he was twelve; he could’ve passed for younger.

Randolph Duchay was good-sized and broad-shouldered, with wavy, short brown hair and a puffy, thick-lipped face plagued by wet-looking zits. His arms had already started to pop veins and show some definition. Him, Sue would’ve placed at fifteen or sixteen.

Big and scared. Sue’s flashlight picked up his fear right away, the sweat on his brow and nose. A bead of moisture rolled off his pimply chin. Repeated eyeblinks.

She moved right in on him, pointed a finger in his face. “Where’s Kristal Malley?”

Randolph Duchay shook his head. Started to cry.

“Where is she?” she demanded.

The kid’s shoulders rose and fell. He slammed his eyes shut and began rocking.

She hauled him to his feet. Fernie was doing the same to Troy Turner, asking the same question.

Turner tolerated being frisked with passivity. His face was as blank as a sidewalk.

Sue put pressure on Duchay’s arm. The kid’s biceps were rock hard; if he resisted he’d be a challenge. Her gun was on her hip, holstered, out of reach. “Where the hell is she, Randy.”

“Rand,” said Troy Turner. “He ain’t no Randy.”

“Where’s Kristal, Rand?”

No response. She squeezed harder, dug her nails in. Duchay squawked and pointed to the left. Past the swings and across the play area to a pair of cinder-block public lavatories.

“She’s in the bathroom?” said Fernie Reyes.

Rand Duchay shook his head.

“Where is she?” Sue growled. “Tell me now.”

Duchay pointed in the same direction.

But he was looking somewhere else. To the right of the lavs. South side of the cinder block, where a corner of dark metal stuck out.

Park Dumpsters. Oh, Lord.

She cuffed Duchay and put him in the back of the Crown Victoria. Ran over to look. By the time she got back, Troy was cuffed, too. Sitting next to his bud, still unruffled.

Fernie waited outside the car. When he saw her he raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

Sue shook her head.

He called the coroner.