“We must dig here,” I command. I run my hands across the ground like a diving rod.

The two men stand over me.

“Why did you not bring shovels?”

They do not budge. Though they’re not inclined to take orders from me, they leave me where I am.

Everyone arrives then. The officer we met last time. Rostam, Clay, and Mom. Two more guards, one looking more bewildered than the other.

“What are you doing out here?” the supervising officer asks me. “What’s this information you claim to have?”

I take a deep breath and stand to face him.

“We must dig here,” I command. “I was told this is where they were buried. Let’s not waste time.”

“You speak as if you have stars and stripes on your jacket,” he mutters. “Who gave you this idea?”

“Please,” I say. “The man who told me was a soldier at Arg that night. He knew. This must be the place.”

I am leaning into what I believe in my heart. Shair may not have known the exact coordinates, but he brought me here.

“This is a small ask,” Rostam adds. “Given the number of bodies found over the years, she’s more likely to be right than wrong.”

The officer huffs.

“There is a process to these matters,” he says. “We don’t just pick up shovels.”

He turns his back on us and puts his hands on his hips.

“I’ll have to answer for this,” he mutters, then looks at two men waiting on his command. He shakes his head in the direction of the building.

Mom breathes an audible sigh of relief.

Heavy shovels and rusted picks are brought out in a wheelbarrow. The officer spreads the guards out within the circle. The earth in this patch is dry, every drop of moisture soaked up by thirsty roots. The surface does not want to be breached.

The officer walks to where Mom and I are standing.

“We shall see,” he tells me. “But I suggest you take this time to ask yourself what you’re hoping to find under this dirt.”

I pick up an idle shovel and choose an area away from others. The guards look from me to their supervisor, wondering if he’ll stop me from digging. He only shrugs and steps away to answer a call from the prison.

Rostam and Clay take turns too, giving the guards a break. Soon we are all sweating. My palms ache, but I do not pause. I toss small heaps of earth behind me, just past the trees.