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It took a certain type of person, and a certain type of secret, to kill a child And a great, big, stinking, putrid eht her that

Yes, collect evidence, collect facts Absolutely The facts would convict his would find him

Clara had put the shepherd’s pie and apple crisp in the fridge They’d been her own coone She’d followed the casseroles back to sanity Thanks to the kindness of neighbors who kept baking the them And who’d kept her company

And noas Clara’s turn to return the comfort and the casseroles and the coebaskets of produce

"In the fields," said Evie "Harvesting"

Clara looked out the kitchenand saw Al Lepage, his gray ponytail falling down his broad back as he knelt in the squash patch

I down at the rich earth

It seemed far too intimate a ?"

"It feels like ," said Evelyn And Clara nodded She knew that feeling

Evie left the kitchen and Clara and the dog followed her Clara thought they were going into the sitting room, but instead Evie lumbered up the stairs and stood at a closed door Harvest had stayed at the botto up at theer motivated, without the reward of the boy to play with

"Al won’t come in here," she explained "I have to keep the door closed He doesn’t want to see anything to do with Laurent But I co the door open and stepped inside The bed was as Laurent had left it, unmade And his clothes were scattered about, where he’d tossed them

The tomen sat side by side on Laurent’s bed

The old farh the whole ho hole in its foundation

"I’m afraid," said Evie, at last