There were two police cars in the driveway when the Boones arrived. Across the street, the neighbors were on their porches, watching.

Mrs. Finnemore-she went by the name of May and had named her children April, March, and August-was in the living room on a sofa talking to a uniformed officer when the Boones entered, rather awkwardly. Quick introductions were made; Mr. Boone had never met her.

“Theo!” Mrs. Finnemore said, very dramatically. “Someone has taken our April!” Then she burst into tears and reached to hug Theo. He wanted no part of being hugged but went along with the ritual out of respect. As always, she wore a large flowing garment that was more of a tent than a dress, light brown in color and made from what appeared to be burlap. Her long graying hair was pulled into a tight ponytail. Crazy as she was, Theo had always been struck by her beauty. She made no effort at being attractive-quite unlike his mother-but some things you can’t hide. She was also very creative, liked to paint and do pottery, in addition to making goat cheese. April had inherited the good genes-the pretty eyes, the artistic flair.

When Mrs. Finnemore settled down, Mrs. Boone asked the officer, “What happened?” He responded with a quick summary of what little they knew at that point.

“Did you talk to her last night?” the officer asked Theo. The cop’s name was Bolick, Sergeant Bolick, which Theo knew because he’d seen him around the courthouse. Theo knew most of the policemen in Strattenburg, as well as most of the lawyers, judges, janitors, and clerks in the courthouse.

“Yes, sir. At nine fifteen, according to my phone log. We talk almost every night before going to bed,” Theo said. Bolick had the reputation of being a wise guy. Theo wasn’t prepared to like him.