I could still use a specific beta, but I have plenty of special thanks to give to all the folks at Discord who offered ideas for this story, including but not limited to Forestsloth, Megadee, Cat, Crow, Scratch, MariaTortilla, and WendyDeckerstar. I didn't start keeping track of who responded with what until I wrote the bunk bed scene, so if I left you off, let me know and I'll rectify.

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"You didn't have to come with me," Chloe said for the fifth time since they'd left LA that morning. She slid out of the car and closed the door behind her. The earth sank uncannily underneath her heels. She hadn't taken the time to change, not even at their one stop for gas.

"Hey," said Ella, "I took the day off the support my girl, and I'm too lazy to change plans now," but she couldn't keep the buzz of worry out of her voice as she squinted up at the sign over the parking lot.

CAMP SIERRA LAKE.

"Huh," she said. "I wouldn't have picked Rory for an outdoor-type summer camp. Is it the same one Trixie went to?"

"Rory picked it," Chloe said, already spying out the path to the main office, "because it's not the same one Trixie went to." It had been an hours-long drive from the city, some of it in traffic that refused to rush. Her Spanx had dug a trench through the skin of her midsection that she was sure would make her bleed from her belly worse than the C-section.

She'd set her phone to do not disturb before the meeting, but it was supposed to let alerts from whitelisted numbers. The problem was that the sixteen separate messages hadn't come from Rory's phone or the main office. The camp director had used his personal cell. Which meant she'd walked out of City Council to an all-out voicemail meltdown.

At first, she'd thought Rory must have gotten into a fight or pranked one of the counselors. Causing chaos on days Chloe had something important going on with work wasn't exactly something Rory didn't do. Chloe tried not to think about a son who'd felt ignored by his own powerful parents. But the messages had started making sense halfway through Gorman, and Chloe didn't know whether to be angry, call Linda, or feel relieved it hadn't been the Book of Revelations' Gradeschool Edition.

A shadow moved behind a screen door, which creaked open and expelled a tweedy-looking man who started waving frantically. He had wire glasses, a cheap hairpiece, and fingers wrung-out like last week's laundry.

"Mrs. Decker," said Director Millner, letting the door clap shut behind him. His blue and white plaid shirt complemented the ink stains on his hands and glasses.

"It's Ms.," corrected Ella.

It was Captain, but now wasn't the time. "Where is my daughter?" Chloe asked, using the voice that made the rookies stand straight and the hotheads tuck in their shirts.

Millner was nodding. "She's in the medical cabin. She's not hurt!" he said before Chloe could ask. "One of the instructors is waiting with her."

"You said she witnessed the event," Chloe demanded.

"No!" Millner protested. "No, we're pretty sure, ah..." he pushed up his glasses. "We're pretty sure she just found the body."

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"He's not the sort I would have figured to run a summer camp," murmured Ella. She narrowed her eyes. "Does he have a twin brother working at LA Forensic HR? Because I'm getting some serious paper pusher vibes."

Chloe didn't answer. Millner was going to the medical tent, and she was following him. Good enough. The pine branches waved charmingly overhead, infuriatingly calm on a day like this. The path, at least, was paved with only a few cracks. She wasn't sure her heels could have taken dirt and roots.

"My brother was thinking of sending Esteban to a place like this," Ella chatted. "At least I'll be able to tell him I checked it out."

"We offer a wide variety of activities and—" Millner made a stifling sound in his throat. "Sorry, can't seem to turn off sales mode today." He actually gave a nervous giggle.

"Tent" was a misnomer. The building with the red and white sign above the door was a generic cinder block affair, complete with the smell of antiseptic.

"Did you touch the body after you found it?" the words carried clearly through the open window. Chloe felt her jaw set as she recognized the cadence.

"Deputy, that is enough!" rasped a voice like ten miles of West Virginia road covered in dry cigarettes. "Noah, Aurora, you don't got to say one wordtill your folks get here."

Chloe's heart pounded, and she all but broke into a run before finally getting her hands on the door and throwing it open.

"Mister Blanchard, you are interfering in an investigation," a woman facing away from her said in a clear California accent. "I'll remind you that you are not a parent—"

"That's all right. I am," said Chloe, not bothering to hold the door for Mr. Millner or Ella.

Four faces turned her way. A thirtyish blond woman in a deputy's uniform gave her a look halfway between outranged and jumpscare. Rory, managing to look punk in candy pink tie-dye, stared at her as if she hadn't expected to see her. There was also a curly-haired boy in NASA glasses and a tie-dyed tee who just seemed dazed, and a red-faced man sweating through a work shirt with the camp logo on it.

Chloe walked straight past both of them and hugged Rory where she sat on the chair. As usual, it was like hugging an iron lampstand. As Rory put up with the maternal affection, Chloe couldn't help where her mind went: Trixie would have been Velcro Kid after something like this. But as long as the Comparison never made it out of her mouth, Chloe wouldn't be putting herself on the rotten parent list any time soon. Like Linda said, she had to give herself permission to be human.

The man in the camp shirt gave a heavy breath, but he didn't say anything.

Chloe let go of Rory and sized the deputy up. Her uniform read Madera County and her face read trouble. Her partner could be nearby or perhaps the sheriff's office had sent her out alone, which meant they didn't think a crime had been committed. Up close, she looked younger, maybe under twenty-five, so she could be the most junior in the department. This woman might not want to be here, but it looked like she wanted Chloe to be here even less.

Chloe cast her eyes around the room for the voice she'd heard butchering Miranda. "Blanchard" stared at her with a pair of robin's egg blue eyes that might have won hearts thirty or forty years back. She put him in his late fifties. His skin showed the light brown mottling of a man who hadn't believed in sunblock even though sunburn believed in him. He had a softness to his jaw that wasn't quite a double chin and a ring of fuzz on his scalp that spoke to a man who'd faced the truth and finally buzzed off the combover. She squinted. Recently buzzed off the combover. And he was staring at her like she was a somehow both a bacon and egg breakfast and a coral snake that could bite any second.

All the times she'd wished she'd get recognized for anything but Hot Tub High School. These days, when strangers recognized her face, it was because they knew her from her work in police reform and either approved of what she was doing or thought she was the devil herself.

Blanchard looked like someone had dumped icewater on him—or he would have if he hadn't been sweating so hard. The deputy was harder to place. There were wheels turning behind those eyes, but in which direction?

"Captain Decker," the deputy said, her posture downshifting into a deferential nod and placating smile. So she did know who Chloe was, and she was going for honey over vinegar. "I'm Olivia Stevens with the County Sheriff's department. It seems your daughter and this young man witnessed a crime—"

"We did?" the boy in the purple tie-dye asked just as Rory said, "Shut up!"

"—they're not in custody—" which didn't mean Stevens didn't suspect them of anything. Or that she wasn't using them to corner someone into an easy collar. Stevens held her pen and notebook like an eager cub reporter. Chloe fought down a grin. Hot Tub High School hadn't won her an Oscar, but she was a good enough actor to spot a bad one. Still, she felt the disadvantage of the situation like a layer of wet concrete. She knew she could take Rory and leave, but Rory was clearly worried about Noah blabbing something important. And Rory had more important to her than most kids.

Chloe looked at Rory and raised an eyebrow in the way she'd perfected during Rory's preschool years. "Really?"

Rory screwed up her mouth and glared sullenly at the deputy. "I don't like her."

"Deputy Stevens, a word?"

Stevens hesitated, but she followed Chloe's beckoning hand out the door. Blanchard started to rise as if he meant to follow, but then sat back down.

Ella straightened up from where she'd perched on a bench outside the medical cabin. She gave Stevens the same once-over Chloe had, from her sensible boots to the strands of dirty blond hair sticking to her neck in the heat. She shot Chloe a silent question: What kind?

Some people became rural police because of community, some because it was a steady job with a pension that still didn't require a four-year degree, and others did it for the same reasons as the worst L.A. cops. And then there was what Olivia Stevens herself thought she was doing here.

"Ooh!" Millner noted. "I'll just go inside. We don't leave any adults alone with the kids. Camp policy. My policy. Camp!" and he ducked past Stevens into the building.

Stevens' eyes were just as busy. It was one thing for an LAPD captain to be wearing a dress suit, full makeup and heels, maybe she was just a little formal (or a little full of herself), but Ella had started the day in her best testifying-in-court pantsuit and then dragged a bright orange sun hat out of the trunk of her car halfway up I-5. A tree frog glittered in rhinestones from the brim.

"As you've probably figured out, I left LA as soon as I got Director Millner's message. My friend here was kind enough to give me a ride."

Chloe watched Stevens' eyes duck toward Ella at the word "friend." She could almost see the question: Lesbians? She wouldn't be the first person to think it. Or spraypaint it on her car.

"You're not the only cop to have an opinion about the measure that went before the state legislature last year," said Chloe.

"I didn't say any—"

"And you have a right to it," Chloe finished. "I'm more interested in whether you have any training in the interrogation of child witnesses."

"It's Madera County, not middle-of-nowhere Montana," said Stevens. A non-answer. "And it was just a statement, not an interrogation." Two non-answers. Chloe hadn't spent five years working with Lucifer I-Never-Lie Morningstar without learning how to spot a dodge. "I'll remind you a young girl is dead, Captain Decker."

"And you tried to question another young girl without her parents present."

"Technically, the camp is authorized to act in loco parentis in emergencies," said Stevens, though her smile was a little stiffer.

"In safety matters, not criminal cases," said Chloe.

"That's one way to interpret it," said Stevens.

Over the deputy's shoulder, Chloe saw Rory walk up to the inside of the screen door and look out. She could barely see Millner wagging a finger at someone behind her.

"It didn't sound like you thought camp employees had parental authority a minute ago," said Chloe. "You can't have it both ways."

"Do you really think I want to pin a murder on a nine-year-old?" Stevens' eyebrow shoved up.

"She's eight, and I don't know what you want to do." Catch a real or imagined child psychopath. Close as an accident and get home in time for Real Housewives. Anything else.

Stevens closed her eyes for a moment, then put on a forced smile. "I think we've gotten off on the wrong foot," she said. "You probably just want to take your daughter and go home—"

Rory started shaking her head from side to side.

"—and I want to find out why a twenty-year-old was found dead in a creek in my county. I swear," she put her hand on her chest, "that's all I want. But I can't stop you from telling little Aurora not to speak to me. I'm sure I can get Noah to give me an accurate enough statement by himself—"

Rory shook her head even harder until she was almost vibrating.

"Hm?" Deputy Stevens looked behind her, but Rory was gone.

Chloe forced the nerves in her highway-addled brain to fire up. Stevens already knew more about what had happened here than she did. So did Rory. So did Noah. So did the sweating man in the wreck of a work shirt. She felt the disadvantage like a twenty-pound weight, pulling her off balance. The birds had the bad taste to tweet.

"If you let me observe," said Chloe. "I'll let you talk to Rory."

"Alone?" asked Stevens.

"Think again."

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"It's all right, Aurora," Blanchard said with exaggerated care as they walked back into the cabin. "I'll wait with Noah. You can get out of here with your mom."

But he could only do so much to prevent an improper interrogation. And that's if protecting Noah was his true goal. A camp employee would be expected to protect the camp from lawsuits, in which case Millner would expect him to throw both kids right under the bus. A camp that had unwittingly been the site of an under-ten psychopath's first kill was going to come out of this better than one where a counselor slipped on a flagstone that wasn't up to code.

"Rory," Chloe said, "do everything humanly possible to tell Deputy Stevens what happened."

Rory shot Chloe a look. Oh, but the ride home was going to be fun, probably another fight about the difference between secret and private, but she talked:

"Noah and I were going to cabin C," Rory sounded rehearsed, but why? "When we got to the bridge, we noticed the water was weird. We—"

"How was it weird?" asked Stevens.

"I was getting to that. It's rude to interrupt," Rory snapped.

"Rory," Chloe said, but not as harshly as usual.

"We saw the water was high," Rory went on. "It usually comes up to three rungs below the bridge part, but now it was past two rungs below the bridge part."

"It only does that after it rains a lot," said Noah.

"Noah, you don't have to talk now," Millner chimed in with unnecessary cheerfulness. "Rory's mom is here, so she can, but you can just ...keep yourself to yourself."

"That wasn't me in the girls' bathroom! It was Justin!"

"That's not what I meant by—" Millner sighed. "Just be quiet, all right?"

Rory rolled her eyes. "It also does that when something gets stuck she said. We looked around, and we saw something over by the rocks that looked like a person."

"Her butt was in the air!" said Noah.

Rory heaved a seething sigh. "Shut up, Noah!" She flicked both wrists in agitation. Chloe took half a step closer. Sometimes when she got too worked up... But no storm of feathers and no need for Contingency Plan E. Rory pulled in a breath, held it for what Chloe knew would be four seconds.

"You were saying that—" Stevens began.

Rory exhaled to a count of six... seven... eight...

Chloe looked at Stevens but decided she probably knew a calming mantra when she saw it. If Stevens had been taught to question adult witnesses, then she might have been trained to keep them off-balance. She gave her a steady gaze. Just try and stop her from using a coping method, Chloe said with her eyes, and see how fast I take what sounds like your only coherent witness back to L.A.

"Counselor Patricia's back was facing up, and her shoes were facing up," said Rory, "and her face was down. We couldn't see her arms. That's drowning position."

"How do you know that?" asked Stevens.

"My fault!" Ella said chipperly. "Ella Lopez, L.A. County Forensic Team."

"There were bugs everywhere!" piped Noah, while Blanchard tried to shush him.

"No there wer—" Rory stopped. "Actually, yes. There were more nasty bloodsuckers than usual. Probably blowflies but we didn't stop to check. We went right to the main office and told Mr. Millner, and I guess he called you, so that's it," Rory told Stevens.

Stevens looked at Millner, who nodded. Chloe supposed Stevens had taken his statement before talking to the children. There were rumpled pages in her notebook that could have been that. She didn't look like she thought that was it.

"So you said you were going to the cafeteria—"

"No," said Rory, "but you knew that."

Stevens smiled. "Did your mommy tell you how we ask questions?"

"You try to get people to make mistakes because you think that proves they're lying."

"But a nice little girl like you wouldn't have anything to lie about?" Stevens' voice oozed like syrup. "I'm sure you only want to help."

Chloe watched Rory's eyes narrow like crosshairs. Stevens had used baby talk (strike one), called Rory "little" (strike two), and then claimed she was sure about her private thoughts (strike three). This was about to go downhill fast.

"What's in Cabin C?" asked Stevens.

"Nothing," Rory said sullenly just as Noah piped in "Music."

Chloe blinked, "I thought you didn't want—" then stopped.

Rory gave the boy a look that was pure murder. "Shut. Up!" she snarled.

"What? It is music," Noah said with a jazz-handed shrug.

Blanchard cleared his throat—with enough phlegm to make Ella reach for a Kleenex. "They were both scheduled for beginner strings first thing after Deer Group breakfast," he said. He took Ella's offered tissue and coughed, then winced, then crumpled it up in his hand. "I'm the music instructor. Guitar and banjo. When I was short two—" he coughed again, harder this time. "—campers, I got on my walkie talkie to main office, and Director Millner said they were already there."

"Like I said," Rory answered, still glaring at Noah, "we reported it."

"We narcced!" said Noah.

"That's not what narc means and no we didn't!" said Rory.

"It was cool!" said Noah.

"Not for Patricia!" snapped Rory.

"Yeah, but you thought she sucked!"

"No I didn't."

"You said you did!" said Noah. Stevens' pencil was flying over her notebook. Which kid was she going to blame for this? The morbid one with anger issues who knew what drowning position was or the one who thought death was cool and had the social graces of a concussed brick?

Rory looked at Chloe and then back at the boy. "Lots of people ...aren't very good, Noah. That doesn't mean I want them dead by the bridge."

"How did you know she was dead?" asked Deputy Stevens.

Noah grinned and leaned forward on his stool. "The smell!" just as Rory said "Because she wasn't there."

Stevens' brow furrowed, but at least she was looking at Rory and not at Chloe or Ella. Chloe's mouth was suddenly too dry.

Rory hadn't inherited any really obvious angel powers—yet. No bringing dead pigeons back to life or bringing out people's hidden desires or fears. And Charlie's kindergarten teacher might have gone into remission all on his own. But sometimes she talked as if she could see things most people couldn't.

"I mean wasn't moving," Rory said.

Fortunately, the Two Stooges didn't seem to have noticed. "Noah, you really should be quiet," Millner was saying with a forced smile.

"I can do what we talked about, Director," Blanchard muttered under his breath. "Got plenty of duct tape and his mouth's not big..."

"No," Millner muttered back.

Deputy Stevens went through the other standard questions. Had they touched the body after they found it? No. Had anything else seemed strange? No. Had they heard anything on the way, voices or a struggle? No.

"What about footprints?" asked Chloe. Stevens looked her way but didn't say anything. "Is the path paved or—"

"It's gravel," said Blanchard. "And I didn't see any footprints that couldn't have come from fifty campers heading to activities after breakfast."

"Who else did you say was with you?" Stevens asked.

"We didn't," said Rory just as Noah said "Counselor Moira."

Stevens looked at Rory and put her hand on her hip. "Why did you tell me it was just you and Noah?"

"I didn't," said Rory just as Noah said "Because Moira hates Patricia!"

"Shut up!" the air around Rory practically crackled.

"See," Noah told Stevens, "Counselor Patricia caught Moira with her boyfriend—"

"No she didn't!" snapped Rory.

"They were doing sex in Cabin E!" Noah said in delight.

"No they weren't! Chipmunk Group would have seen them!"

"And Patricia wanted her fired because she wanted the boyfriend. Or something," said Noah.

"He's telling stories!" Rory protested, looking from Stevens to Chloe. "He made all that up! None of it's real!"

"Rory, you know that's his track," said Director Millner. He looked up at Chloe, Ella and Stevens. "As Mrs. Decker already knows—"

"Ms.," Ella muttered under her breath.

"—we have a heavy focus on art in this camp. We have traditional arts like theater and painting, but Noah's in our storytelling program." He looked back to Noah. "But now is not the time to practice."

Blanchard cleared his throat again. "If I may..." and then to Deputy Stevens. "There may have been some conflict among the camp counselors. You know how it is with young people, but I believe Aurora is right in that the campers got a bit ...theatrical when trying to figure out why the two older girls weren't speaking to each other."

"But was there any bad blood?" asked Deputy Stevens.

"I believe so, yes."

Stevens nodded, "Okay, just one more question." She was looking at Rory but Chloe could practically see her ears pointing at Noah. "How do you think Counselor Patricia ended up in the water?"

"I think—" said Rory ...just as Noah shouted, "I think the lake monster got her!"

Millner covered his eyes with one hand and made a sound like a beam about to give way.

"...lake monster?" asked Stevens.

"Yeah! There's a monster that lives in the lake! It's got a long neck, paddles for legs, and it stinks! It's like the Loch Ness monster but here. Back in the cowboy times, it used to come out of the lake and eat cows and stuff!" Noah said like he was describing a trip to Santa Claus. "I think it must be a plesiosaur that didn't die out when the comet hit. It must've come out of the lake to get Patricia, and it ate her!"

Rory was pinching the bridge of her nose like she had a migraine. "If it ate her, Noah," she said in a voice like a steel beam about to give, "then why—?" her voice choked up and Chloe saw an eye twitch. "Literally no part of her was bitten off."

Noah thought about this for a second. "It puked her back up again?"

Rory practically had fumes coming off her head.

"So there's a lake monster," Stevens deadpanned.

"It makes an amusing story to tell around the campfire," Blanchard offered. "It's tradition."

"I'll have the medical examiner check the body for, uh, dinosaur bites," Stevens told Noah. She was staring at him like he was a Labrador dog sent to get the paper who'd returned cheerfully holding a human head in its mouth.

"Are we done, then, Deputy?" Chloe asked.

"Uh..."

Chloe held out her hand to Rory. She took it and slid off the stool, holding it firm as the two of them walked out the door. Chloe used her free hand to hold it open for Ella.

Noah was clearly a problem of some kind or other, but at least any story he told about a girl with pink wings would sound like moonshine after the one about the lake demon. Maybe it would be all right to take Rory back to L.A. and leave Camp Sierra Lake to itself.

Rory let go of her hand once they were outside. "Are you okay, baby?" Chloe said in a quieter voice. Rory gave a tight nod but didn't say anything. She wrapped her skinny arms around her body and kicked the gravel.

"Hi, Auntie Ella," she said.

"Hey, kiddo," said Ella. "I know this might not be the best time, but you remembered drowning position and I am so proud of you."

Chloe shot her a glare, but any oomph behind it fizzled. She was suddenly exactly as tired as if she'd gotten up early for a planning session with City Council, learned her daughter had found a body at summer camp, and then blasted a few hundred miles down I-5 and 99 in a compact car with a wonky AC.

"Okay, Rory," she said, "let's get your things packed. We'll be back home by—"

"I can't go home yet!" the words popped out of Rory's mouth so fast she seemed surprised by them.

Chloe blinked. "Ten days ago, you didn't want to stay."

"But things are just getting good!" said Rory. "I mean, not good good, and not because Counselor Patricia died. Other stuff." She rallied. "You see dead bodies all the time!"

"Yes, but they're not usually people I know." Chloe dug in her purse. "I'm calling Linda."

"Don't call Linda! I'm fine! It's all fine. I told you, Noah's lying about all that stuff."

"Rory, I don't think you have to worry about Noah," said Ella. "I guarantee, none of the adults in that room took him literally."

Chloe stepped back, one hand on Rory's shoulder. "Is this because you're taking guitar instead of acting? We can find you another teacher back home." Rory scowled. "Honey, I'm glad you want to learn music. Your father was a wonderful—"

Rory shoved Chloe's hand off her shoulder and stuck her hands in her pockets, glowering at her shoes. Chloe could hear another voice in her memory:

My whole life I listened to mom talk about how much she loved you. I felt sorry for her.

Ella, may the God she'd once prayed to bless her, didn't say a word.

Through the screened windows, the muffled sounds of conversation gave way to a high-pitched keening sound, like a baby walrus being squeezed through a tube.

"No— I meant— I mean—!"

"Noah, there's no need for a fuss."

"EeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeee... hnurf hnurf hnuuuuurf"

Rory gave a disgusted sigh. "Noah's an ugly crier," she explained.

The door to the medical tent came open with an unhealthy sucking sound. For a second, Chloe could hear Director Millner trying to calm Noah down. During that second, Deputy Stevens slipped through the door and pressed it shut behind her, leaning her back and shoulder blades against it as if she thought Noah would try to follow her out.

"So..." she trailed off. "I'm bad with kids."

"We noticed," said Ella.

"The sheriff always sends me out on any call that involves kids, even though I'm bad with kids."

"I figured," said Chloe.

"I mean..." Stevens' wide-fingered hand jutted out into the air beside her face. "There's this forty-year-old guy back at the station and he's a dad and he's great with kids but they only ever send me. I think it's because I'm a woman."

"He sucks," said Rory.

"Language," said Chloe.

Stevens pulled in a breath, "But I'm not going to do a bad job on purpose just to prove them wrong," she said, one finger vibrating in the air. Her determination fell into a cringe. "Because they probably wouldn't notice?"

"Are you asking us to help with the case?" she said.

Stevens pulled in a breath then let it out slowly. "Yes."

"Is my daughter a suspect?" Chloe said.

Stevens didn't answer for a moment, and Chloe was sure it was because she didn't know what she wanted to hear. "Not at this time," Stevens corrected.

Chloe and Ella exchanged a look. Ella put up an eyebrow. Chloe turned back to Stevens. "Will you give us a moment?" she asked.

Ella followed her into a makeshift huddle. "She's kind of asking us for help," Ella murmured.

"She's also kind of not asking us for help," said Chloe. "I'm here as a parent, not an investigator."

"Come on, she's a sister in blue! Khaki. Close enough."

"Gender's not supposed to matter. It could be favoritism."

"And what if everyone at the sheriff's office thinks she bummed around while we did all the work?"

"What if you help her out so I can stay at camp?" piped Rory. "And isn't your whole thing about making new police officers do things the right way?"

"Yeah, you could be her John Keel!" said Ella.

"Her who?"

"You overnerded again, Auntie Ella."

Ella pushed Rory's head down and out of the huddle.

"What about just solving this case for the victim?" said Ella.

"So I can stay at camp," said Rory.

"Okay, you got me," said Chloe. They straightened up and turned around. "We can give you a day," she said. "Maybe two. This is your case, and your name will be on the report, so think carefully about what you do and don't want from us." She looked at Rory, "And I'm here as a parent first."

Stevens nodded. "Thank you."

The door came open again and the music teacher ducked out. In full daylight, he looked even more worn down, with the stained teeth and sallow skin of a lifelong smoker. The edge of a tattoo that probably didn't say "I love puppies and paying taxes" poked out of the edge of his short sleeve.

"Hang on. I gotta get back in there before Noah turns himself inside out like a hagfish in a compression sock."

Ella went crosseyed.

He opened his mouth to say more, but there was another shrill from behind the screen.

"You had to go and scare him?" Blanchard said pointedly to Stevens.

"Well he scares too easy!" snapped Stevens.

"You and I do not disagree on that," said Blanchard.

"I could use a little help, John!" Millner called in a singsong voice from inside the medical tent.

"Just a second there, Dennis!"

"You'd better go," Chloe said quietly. "Help him, I mean."

Blanchard opened his mouth to say more, then went back inside.

"I should talk to him alone," Chloe said to Stevens.

"Gonna pass on that one," said Stevens. "Help is one thing, but you're right about this being my case." And an adult man was always a suspect in the death of a young woman. She pulled in a breath. "If that means I deal with the kiddos without your help, then okay," she said. "This a dealbreaker for you?"

Chloe looked at the shadows on the screen door and shook her head.

"Okay!" said Stevens, half-clapping her hands with the forced cheerfulness of a first-year elementary school teacher. "So getting meaningful information out of kids! Where do we start?"

Ella coughed, then reached around and scratched the middle of her back. "Could you give us a second to change first?"

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John Keel is a character from Night Watch by Sir Terry Pratchett.