“And Dobson, I think. He looked pretty green when I showed up.”

“Right. First responder. Shit. I don’t know if we can keep this wrapped.”

French dipped his head at the structure. “Don’t forget the photographer, the fingerprint techs, the boy’s parents, when we find them.”

“I want time. Talk to your people. Give me what you can.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Jesus, Bill…” The captain’s composure failed as he mopped sweat from his face. “As a father, what do you do with this?”

“I say a silent prayer and thank God for my sons.”

“I have girls.”

“The twins, I know.”

“Have you ever seen anything like that?” He wasn’t looking for an answer, so French didn’t give him one. “You know how long I’ve had this job? Too long, maybe.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“But you’ve got this, right? I can leave it with you?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good man. Thank you.” The captain gathered himself, buttoning his jacket. “If you need me, I’ll be at the high school, then at the station.”

“The high school?”

“I think I’ll give my girls a hug.”

“Good idea.”

“Oh, and Bill…”

“Yeah?”

“Call me when you identify the victim. She’ll have family and friends. Someone somewhere is worried.”

“Soon as we have a name.” French watched the captain nod, and slide into his car. Inside, the war raged on.

Her name is Tyra …

She’s been with my son …

When French returned to his car, the kid’s color was better. “Mind if I sit with you for a while?” He slid behind the wheel. “I’m sorry you had to wait. It’s kind of crazy out there.”

“I’ve been watching.”

“Ah, he talks.” French kept it light because the boy still looked as thin as glass. “Remember what I told you before? You’re safe here. The bad people are gone.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What’s your name?”

“Samuel.”

“Do you live nearby, Samuel?”

The boy gave an address. French knew it.

“I know I’m supposed to be in school…”

“Don’t worry about that. You’re not in trouble. My name is Bill.”

The boy held out a small hand, and they shook. He looked like Gibby at the same age: the thin shoulders, the same solemn eyes. “Do your parents know where you are?” The boy shook his head. “Will you tell me their names?”

“It’s just my mother.”

“Your mother, then.”

“Kate.”

“Kate. Good. Thank you, Samuel. Will you tell me why you came here this morning?”

“Some older boys said I might find arrowheads.”

“Did you find any?”

He shook his head, eyes filling. “I found…”

“It’s okay, Samuel.”

“I found … I found…”

“You’re okay, son. Breathe.” French squeezed the narrow shoulders. “In and out. That’s a boy.”