He won’t admit to killing either of the boys, but you know it’s coming, they say. Sometimes, these things take years, waiting for some sicko to get bored enough in his prison cell to get the press interested again with a fresh murder story. For now, Pender has to take what closure it can get. The edge of the woods near the trails has become a sort of shrine, people leaving candles, stuffed animals, cards for Ivy and Dabney. Miss you. Love you. So sorry.

They say she should’ve known, Mrs. Mac. That he was using her own files to gather information on his victims, to target her problem cases. They say somebody with her training should’ve recognized the signs.

What remains is a dark, empty office in PDHS. Her sign, her lamps, her doilies, all gone, making room for the next person who just wants to help the neglected, the apathetic, the belligerent. God help them.

They thought I’d want to get out of this town, Ma and Dad. Dad said he’d put in for another job anywhere, any place I wanted to go. I said this is where I want to be. Then I said I wanted to get some curtains for our apartment. Their going theory is PTSD.

These days, I take the sidewalk to the park, learning my way from the Terraces to Maple out here in the open. Takes about seven minutes longer, but who’s counting.

It’s the second week of November. Yesterday, Bree and Hazel and I walked home together, just the three of us. Bree seems to be trying it out, trusting me again. I know it isn’t something she comes to easily, and that me getting her sister out of Mr. Mac’s cabin has a lot to do with it. I’m just glad she’s willing. I won’t need a third chance. I want to be the person she comes to, no matter what. And I know I need to earn that.

Now, I hear the roll of plastic wheels behind me. I don’t turn, letting him come up alongside, coasting like he does, hands in his coat pockets.

“How long have you been back there?” I ask.

Kincaid shrugs, weaving his board slightly, eyes on the road ahead.

“I appreciate you playing bodyguard and all, but it’s not necessary.” I glance over. “Mumbler’s gone, or haven’t you heard?”

He shakes his head, staying deadpan. “He’ll always be with us.”

I give him an incredulous look. “As long as we keep him alive in our hearts?”

A shrug. “Lots of stuff we don’t have an answer to. Two dead boys that piece of shit won’t cop to. Who do you think did it?”

“Sounds like you’re about to tell me.”