It was Christopher.
And he was talking to himself.
“Yes, I can hear the baby,” he whispered.
Matt forgot all about the fresh clothes. He tiptoed toward Christopher, who was digging in the dirt like a dog burying a bone. When he got closer, he noticed a thin branch with the white plastic bag on it.
“I don’t want to see. It’s too scary,” Christopher whispered.
“Christopher? Are you okay?” Matt said.
Christopher turned around quickly. He looked startled.
“How long were you standing there?” he asked.
“Just now. What’s wrong with your eyes?” Matt asked.
“What do you mean?” Christopher said.
“They’re so bloodshot.”
“It’s nothing. Don’t worry, okay?”
Matt nodded, but he did worry about it. Christopher rubbed his exhausted eyes. Then, he looked down at Matt’s pants and saw the streak of urine staining the denim a dark blue. Matt’s face went hot with shame.
“Don’t tell. Please,” Matt said.
“I won’t,” Christopher whispered.
“No, I really mean it. My brother would never stop teas—”
Without a word, Christopher pointed down to reveal the pee stain on his own pants.
“You had a nightmare, too?” Matt asked.
“Yeah. So don’t worry.”
Christopher smiled at him. And somehow, Matt felt better.
“What were you doing?” Matt asked.
Christopher paused for a moment.
“Digging for treasure,” he finally said.
“Can I help?” Matt asked.
“Sure. Grab a shovel.”
“Can we change our pants first? I don’t want Mike to see that I wet the bed, okay?”
Christopher smiled, and the boys quickly rummaged through their backpacks and pulled out fresh underwear and pants. They peeled their underwear off like bananas. The cold air hit their willies (Matt’s word), which retreated back into their bodies like scared turtles. Then, they quickly put on the fresh clothes, which felt warm and soft and dry. Christopher opened up the tools and handed Matt a small shovel. They began to dig for treasure. Side by side.
“Who were you talking to?” Matt asked.
“Myself,” Christopher said. “Now hurry. You don’t want anyone else to get the treasure, do you?”
They spent the next half hour digging. They didn’t talk much. Matt noticed that Christopher kept looking at the white plastic bag, but he didn’t think too much of it. Matt knew that Special Ed was Christopher’s best friend, but Matt secretly thought Christopher was his. And he didn’t mind coming in second to Special Ed. He was used to it by now. He had come in second to Mike his whole life. The only thing that bothered him was a nagging question in his mind. The thing that woke him up in the first place.
What was that sound?
It was on the tip of his tongue.
“What are you guys doing?” Special Ed asked before Matt could place it.
Matt and Christopher turned to see Special Ed and Mike approach, rubbing the sleep out of their eyes. Their breath making clouds.
“Digging for treasure,” Matt said.
“Can we help?” Mike asked Christopher.
“Sure, Mike.”
“I’ll make breakfast,” Special Ed said, finding his niche.
Mike picked up the shovel and used his strong arms to cut through the frozen earth. Matt looked at Christopher to see if he would tell Mike about wetting the bed. Christopher smiled as if to say, “Your secret is safe with me.”
*
Later, the boys had their breakfast of Froot Loops with cold milk from the stream. Christopher said nothing of the terror. Nothing of the guard whispering his name. Or the sound of the baby crying, which had woken up Matt. He knew that the truth would scare Matt. And he didn’t want anyone but him to be scared. So, Christopher said nothing of the nice man explaining what would happen to him if he didn’t finish the tree house in time. The less they knew, the better. And the safer for everyone. And he knew that if he did tell them, they might get scared and run away. And he needed their help.
When they finished the Froot Loops, he made sure Mike got the sugar dust, and Matt got the prize. Then, Christopher thanked Special Ed for a great breakfast.
It was important to keep his troops happy.
When morning came, the sun warmed their cold bones. They worked in shifts. Two boys building the tree house. The other two boys digging. After a snack of frozen Oreos and the last of the milk, Special Ed joined Christopher, hacking at the frozen earth looking for treasure.
No treasure came.
But at about 7:06 a.m., they did find a child’s skeleton.
Chapter 27
The call came in at 7:30 a.m.
And the news began to spread.
The sheriff’s night deputy went to church that Sunday morning to pray. He told Father Tom, who changed his homily to speak about how the remains of a child were found in the Mission Street Woods. He said that the child was in Heaven now, and as sad as the town was, they should rejoice in the power of Christ’s forgiveness.
The homily was so powerful that Mrs. Radcliffe couldn’t contain herself. She kept dabbing at the corners of her eyes all the way through Holy Communion. How many times had she and Mr. Radcliffe prayed for a child of their own? How many times did she miscarry? And how many times did Mr. Radcliffe hold her and say that her body was not broken? It was beautiful.
Mary Katherine prayed for the child and within minutes, her seventeen-year-old brain played hopscotch. That poor child. It should have had a chance to grow up like her and go to college. Like Notre Dame. She chastised herself for thinking of her own life at all. But she was afraid she wouldn’t get into Notre Dame. And her father would be so disappointed in her. She promised God to pray for the child and focus on service at the old folks home. But Mrs. Collins was so mean, and her mother was so crazy. The old woman screamed at her all weekend about how “they” were watching. How was she going to listen to that for a month? Especially after Doug quit, saying that nothing was worth this torment. Not even Cornell. Mary Katherine quickly reprimanded herself to stop being so narcissistic and think about the child.
You don’t want to hit a deer with your car, do you?
When mass let out, people called relatives and checked on their kids away at college. Moms held their children a little tighter and made mental notes to include extra-special treats on Thanksgiving. Dads decided to limit their football games to one (instead of three) to spend more time with their families instead of their fantasy football leagues. And kids found themselves getting whatever candy they wanted all day. Some felt guilty that it was for all the wrong reasons, but hey…candy was candy.
The only person who didn’t seem rattled was Mrs. Collins.
Kathleen Collins had been sitting in the front pew with her son Brady during mass. Of course, she’d already heard the news. As landowner, her husband was the first person notified after the sheriff. He immediately left the house and went to the scene. He had too much money tied up in the Mission Street Woods project to leave its future in the hands of bureaucrats. Mrs. Collins found herself a lot more concerned about her family’s potential bankruptcy than she was about the family of the child in the woods. After all, these things happen for one reason.