Tarpin was over six feet and built with a broad chest and very big arms suggestive of an iron pumper. He had a remarkably small head for the thick frame. Or maybe it just looked smaller because his scalp was shaven clean. Deep, brown eyes, prominent nose, thick lips, and a big chin. He reminded Decker of the T-shirted genie on the household liquid cleaner, only without the earring.

The officers looked up and Decker flashed his badge, making sure Tarpin took it in. The man’s face was emotionless. Not hostile or defiant, just a total blank. It could be shock; it could be a controlled effort not to give himself away. Decker introduced himself.

“Lieutenant Decker.” Tarpin’s voice was muted. “Good you made it down so quickly. I know you had some prior dealings with Ernesto, because the kid told me.” A pause. “He liked you. I thought you should know that.”

“Thanks for telling me.” Decker regarded the khaki-clad sheriffs. They were clearly below him in rank but didn’t like being usurped. From the stripes, Decker could tell that the smaller man was a sergeant. “I had prior experience with the deceased minor. That’s why I’m here.” Decker’s eyes fell upon the two domed huts, waterproof and colored neon orange. “That’s the crime scene?”

“Yes, sir,” the sergeant answered.

Tarpin said, “It’s unspeakable in there. Not that I haven’t seen bodies in Serbia and Rwanda, but…it’s been a while. And I knew them…shook the hell out of me.”

That’s what his words said. But Tarpin’s face was still empty.

“You identified them as Ernesto Golding and Mervin Baldwin?” Decker asked.

“Yes, sir, it’s them.” Tarpin looked away, his nose wrinkling for a split second—as if he smelled something rotten.

“When did you discover them?”

“When I got up…around five in the morning.”

“And you immediately went into the tents?”

“The closest hut is where the provisions are kept. The farther shelter belongs to the Baldwins. I went to get breakfast going, and…something didn’t smell right. If you’ve ever been in combat and had a whiff of the stench, you just don’t forget it.”

Decker took out his notepad. “What did you do?”

“Lifted the flap to Dr. Baldwin’s tent.” He averted his gaze. “God help them now…. He’s the only one who can.”

“And you knew right away that they were both dead.”

“Yes, sir. No doubt about that.”

“Look for a pulse?”

“Of course…nothing.”

“Were the bodies warm?”

He waited a moment. “I don’t recall.”

Decker thought a moment. “So Ernesto Golding was in Merv Baldwin’s hut.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Doing what?”

Once again Tarpin wore an enigmatic expression. “Therapy. That’s where Dr. Baldwin does therapy with the boys.”

“At five A.M.?”

“I beg your pardon?”