“An ammo box. Remington thirty-aught-six. Same caliber as the bullet that was fired at Waaboo this morning.”

“Doesn’t necessarily prove anything,” Dross said. “Pretty common brand and caliber.”

“Still, might be evidence. What do you want to do?”

“We can’t take it without a warrant.”

Cork thought a moment. “If maybe you could convince the landlady that she should put the contents of the wastebasket in the trash bin at the curb in order to keep mice out of this place, you wouldn’t need a warrant.”

Dross gave him a little smile. “Put the box back in the wastebasket. I’ll go talk to the landlady.”

After she left, Cork spent a little more time looking over the messy apartment. Something felt just a bit off. By the time Dross returned, he had it.

“She’s getting some clothes on,” Dross said. “She’ll be right out to take care of that wastebasket.”

“Paavola’s been back here,” Cork told her.

“What makes you think so?”

“The police scanner’s gone.”

“The BCA or FBI could have taken it.”

“Maybe. But what about the PlayStation? First time we visited him, he was playing a video game.” Cork pointed toward the big-screen television. “The system’s gone now.”

“BCA or FBI might have taken that, too.”

“Can you think of a reason why? It’s not like a computer that might have information on it. But someone looking to entertain himself while he hides out might risk coming back for it. And as for the scanner, if you were worried about the police coming for you, that might prove handy.” Cork looked around again. “I’m pretty sure Mathias Paavola has gone to ground somewhere else.”

“Where?”

“Maybe if we can find Lewis’s trailer, we’ll have our answer.”

At Sizemore School, Daniel and the others were told that Candyce Osterkamp had left the campus earlier that morning and wasn’t expected back until the next day. They asked if there was anyone at the school who might be familiar with a former resident named Fawn Blacksmith and were directed to the art teacher, one Malcolm Crowe. They found him in the art room, which smelled of oil paint and was brightly adorned with the work of young hands. He was a small, wiry man of about forty, a pencil-thin mustache above his lip, his red hair neatly parted. They introduced themselves, showed ID.

“We were told you might know something about a former resident, Fawn Blacksmith,” Agent Shirley said.

“I can understand why they sent you to me. I’m not sure there’s anyone else still here who was around when Fawn came to us. We have a lot of turnover. These kids can be difficult. I arrived a few months before Fawn.”

“What can you tell us about her?” Agent Shirley said.

“She had problems. All the kids come here with problems. But generally speaking, they’re not bad kids. They’ve just had it rough. Fawn could be hostile, but I believe that was because she was so desperately in need.”

“Of what?” Daniel asked.

“Love. Or probably simply to know that she was worthy of being loved. If you looked at her file, you’d see that she’d been in and out of foster care, and I’m sure her treatment was often lacking in the warmth a kid needs. Here, we try to give them a sense of their worth.”

“Did she have a special relationship with anyone at Sizemore?” Monte asked.

“She had a hard shell, wouldn’t let anyone get too close. But let me show you something.”

Crowe went to a file cabinet in the corner, opened a drawer, and took something from a folder. He brought it to his desk and set it down for the others to see. It was a detailed pencil drawing of a woman Daniel recognized. Daisy Blacksmith.

“She was quite talented,” Crowe said. “Just look at this drawing. There’s love in every line. She had it inside her. She was just afraid to let it out. Or to let anyone inside.”

“We think she might have been willing to let someone inside. Does the name Billy Bones ring a bell for you?”

“Can’t say that it does. Another student?”

“Older. Maybe early thirties. Maybe a teacher?”

“No teacher by that name since I’ve been here. Maybe you should talk to Candyce Osterkamp. She’s been at Sizemore longer than anyone.”

“We were told she’s not here today.”

“Oh, that’s right. She found a blueberry patch somewhere north of town. Guess she wanted to pick some of the berries before anyone else discovered it. She’s quite a good baker. Her blueberry muffins are legendary.”

“Did she tell you where the patch is?” Daniel asked.

“She was quite secretive.”

“Is there anything else you can tell us about Fawn Blacksmith?” Monte asked.

“Why are you so interested now? Nobody came looking for her when she ran away.”

Agent Shirley took a deep breath. “Three days ago, the body of a young woman was found buried in a shallow grave. We believe it might be Fawn Blacksmith.”

“Oh, dear God. That poor child.” He gathered himself and shook his head. “I think I’ve told you everything I can.”

“Do you mind if I take this?” Daniel tapped Fawn’s drawing. “I’d like to give it to the one person she knew that loved her.”

They stood on the grounds of Sizemore School, in the shade of a cottonwood.

“If Billy Bones doesn’t ring a bell for Crowe, do you think it would do any good to talk to this Osterkamp woman?” Agent Shirley said. “They were both here during the time Fawn Blacksmith was a student.”

“Blueberries,” Daniel said. “Coincidence?”

“There are such things,” Monte said. His cell phone rang and he answered. “LuJean, what’s up?” As Monte listened, Daniel saw his brow furrow and his eyes go hard. “Head out there right away. And take Zuppardo with you. We’re on our way.”

“What is it?” Daniel asked when Monte had ended the call.

“Trouble on Crow Point,” Monte said. “Let’s go.”

CHAPTER 32

“Are we in danger, Henry?” Annie asked.

“Prophet will see to our protection. But it would be best to bring the others back to my cabin,” Henry replied calmly.