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head bowed as if entering a church, the sheriff, Royce Ansley. Lillie’s eyes darted from one to the other. She could see that Grayson was crying, ruddy tear tracks streaking the smooth face. Pink’s complexion was a sickly gray. He was trembling all over.
    “Where’s Michele?” she asked in a hoarse, unnaturally calm voice that sounded strange to her own ears. “Couldn’t you find her?”
    Pink gripped his forehead with a sweaty hand, as if to still something clamoring behind it. He swallowed hard and licked his colorless lips.
    “Grayson,” Lillie demanded. “Where is your sister? You were supposed to walk her home.”
    Grayson lowered his head and tears splashed down on his shirt, and his heaving chest as he sobbed out, “I…know…I…was…”
    Royce Ansley stepped forward and took Lillie by the arms. “You have to sit down,” he said. He began to push her toward Pink’s chair. She could see that his eyes were bright, as if with tears, but his voice was steady, his expression impassive.
    “Why?” she said. But she knew why. Already she could feel the blood draining from her head, the lightness, the weakness in her limbs, a darkening around the edge of her vision as he propelled her backward.
    “Lillie, I have something terrible to tell you. Michele is dead, Lillie. I’m so sorry.”
    “Dead,” Lillie whispered. “No.”
    “Yes,” Royce said firmly. “She was…apparently someone…killed her.”
    Crouched in the chair, Lillie tried to breathe, but the darkness was closing in on her now, and in the silence she could hear her heart pounding, pounding. Her arms were numb, her hands limp and cold in her lap. She could feel her eyes roll back, and then Royce was pushing her head down, lowering it between her knees.
    “Breathe,” she heard him saying from far away. “Breathe deep. Grayson, go get your mother a glass of water.”
    Lillie felt the tingle of blood returning to her head, but she did not look up. She kept her eyes closed and willed time to go back. It need only go back ten minutes. She would raise her head and see things as they really were. The door was opening and Pink was ushering them in, Grayson and Michele, scolding them. Slowly she raised her head. She saw the sheriff’s somber face and catastrophe distorting the features of her husband.
    “Pink,” she whispered, for that was all the sound her weakened body could make. “Help me. Oh, my God. Say it’s not true.”
    Pink tore his eyes from hers and stared at the back of the sofa. He had to tell it. He spoke carefully, but his eyes reflected the horror of what they had seen. “I found Grayson at Briar Hill with a couple of the boys, oh, a few minutes after I left the house,” he said. “Grayson and the others, they hadn’t seen her. I picked Grayson up and we went looking for her. I drove around and around. We looked everywhere. Finally we went down to the river over near the stone bridge, you know, Three Arches, and we…there we found her. Well, actually the sheriff had already found her. He was out looking for Partin. But instead he found…Michele.” Pink’s voice cracked as he spoke her name. “She was there, by the river, in some bushes.…” Tears began to fall from his eyes now, and his body shook violently. Pink looked up at his wife, his eyes and voice filled with tears. “I was too late. I’m sorry, honey,” he said, his words slurred with sobs. “Too late.”
    Lillie pushed herself up from the chair and went to her husband. She buried herself against him. Grayson entered the room, carrying the glass of water. She reached out an arm and he came to her embrace.
    “No, no,” she said. “You didn’t know. You couldn’t have known. Oh, my God,” she wailed, “how could anyone hurt her? She was just a baby. She never hurt anybody. My little girl.” She had an image in her mind of Michele at the dance that night waving good-bye. She had failed to hug her in front of her friends. Her heart felt as if it