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“Wasn’t there an Aaron?” And a few yards south again. This one was harder, for some reason. His horror and panic had short-circuited his brain while he was dying. “I think this is Tyler,” I said. And then I went to the southernmost grave of all, and I knew it was the oldest, somehow. The vibrations it gave off were just a bit weaker. “This is the first one,” I told the sheriff, who was keeping pace with us. That wasn’t hard, because I was moving very slowly by now, and I was shaking all over. “His name was…” I shook my head slightly, tried to focus more intently. “His name was James something,” I said. “James Ray, James Roy, James Robert. I’m not…I can’t tell his last name. Oh, Tolliver, get me out of here.” There was one more, a boy named Hunter. I could barely stand by the time I had him pinpointed. He’d died of hypothermia. He must have been one of the November abductions.
    â€œCan I take my sister back into town? She needs to lie down,” Tolliver said.
    â€œNope,” Sandra Rockwell, her jaw clicking shut with a snap. “Not until we check this out.” If I was lying, Sandra Rockwell wanted me on hand when she discovered the lie. “You got any advice on which place to check first?” she asked.
    I shook my head. “Any of the places we stuck a flag,” I said.
    Twyla had retreated to the Cadillac. I was glad I couldn’t tell what live people were thinking, because imagining how she felt couldn’t hold a candle to her actual misery. When Tolliver and I climbed in the back seat, she was kind enough to turn the car on so the heater would warm us. For what seemed like a long time, we just huddled there in the car. Not a word was spoken. My head seemed full of a white noise, and I couldn’t think about anything. I’d seen horrors.
    I didn’t turn my head to watch what went on in the old homesite, but Twyla did. Finally, she said, “They’ve dug about two feet down, now. It sure is a sloppy day for it. I hope Dave and Harry don’t catch a cold. Much less Sandra.”
    I thought, I would have been glad to wait for better weather, but I didn’t say anything.
    It was my first mass murder.
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    A little before eleven o’clock Dave and Harry, the two deputies, uncovered the first bones.
    There was a pause, a palpable pause. The three law officers fell still around the hole that had finally gotten deep enough.
    I’d been leaning back. I straightened. Tolliver’s head rotated, and so did Twyla’s.
    â€œMy grandson?” she asked. I’d been expecting the question.
    â€œNo,” I said. “They picked the northernmost burial to start at. I’m so sorry. Your grandson is there, Twyla, at the first flag we put in. I wish I could make it better. I wish he wasn’t out there.” I didn’t know how else to put it.
    â€œYou can’t be sure.” Her voice was hesitant. I hadn’t known Twyla Cotton more than a couple of hours, but I knew that that wasn’t her normal attitude.
    â€œNo, of course.” I was sure, though. This strange skill is all I have, really. That, and Tolliver, and my two half sisters. So I’m careful of my skill, and I never say anything unless I’m sure. The boy I’d seen in the upslope grave was the same boy in the pictures at Twyla Cotton’s house.
    â€œHow…how did these boys die?”
    That was the question I’d been dreading.
    â€œI really can’t…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. “I really can’t,” I said, making it declarative.
    Tolliver winced and looked away at the ribbon of road traveling up and around the bend. It didn’t take much imagination to know he wished he were traveling that road, getting away from this place. I wished I were, too. I was sick with horror. I had seen so much death I’d thought I was impervious to