I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Not only from my own father, but from the sheriff himself. All these men combed the woods thoroughly, but they found no sign of Harrison Squire’s body.

After letting me be interrogated for a few minutes, Father is embarrassed, full of apologies and excuses.

“She’s always had an overactive imagination. I’m sure with the excitement of her sister’s pre-engagement celebration… Well, perhaps she was a little jealous to have all the attention going to Louise. Please, overlook it this time, Sheriff. I’m sure she meant no harm…”

“Is this some kind of joke?” I shoot up from my chair, affronted. Every eye in the room is on me. Father and Mother, Ben and Louise, Will and William, all of the police. Their looks are varying. Some are pitying. Some are furious, hot; others are ice cold.

“He was dead!” I shout, willing them to believe me. “I saw him with my own eyes!”

“That’s enough of your charade, Frances.”

“What charade?! Why would you think I’m lying? When have I ever done something like this? Since when have I cared that Louise got all the attention?”

For my questions, I’m met with a stinging slap. Louise stands before me, lip quivering, tears in her bright blue eyes.

“I can’t believe you.”

“Louise!”

“You ruined everything! Everything!”

A scuffle breaks out as William struggles to subdue Louise. Meanwhile the elder Will comes to stand before me, his face grave.

“Young lady, I don’t know what kind of game you think it is you’re playing, but you’re about to find out.”

“Mr. Secretary!” Before I can defend myself to him, he turns to my father.

“I sincerely hope, Sir, that such deceitful behavior is not typical of both your daughters.”

“Not at all, Mr. Secretary, I assure you. I’m afraid Frances always has had a rather… morbid imagination. It’s my fault for not disciplining her more severely as a child. Please forgive my oversight. Something like this will never happen again,” he says, shooting me a pointed look.

“For your sake, I hope that is true, Mr. Porter. If my family name is forced to bear such disgrace again— well, suffice to say it will not end well for you, Sir. Or for that little candy company of yours.”

“I understand, Mr. Secretary. I thank you for your leniency.”

One by one, they leave the room, till at last it’s only Father and me left, squared off with three feet between us.

“Frances—”

“They’re wrong, Father! I know what I saw. You know I wouldn’t lie about something like this! You know it!”

“I combed those woods myself! I don’t know what else you want me to say, Frances. Squire’s body just wasn’t there.”

“But it was,” I insist, tears of confusion and hurt streaming from my eyes. “I’m not crazy, Father. You must know this.”

He says nothing, only stares at me. I shudder and heave beneath his gaze; sobs wrack my body. He makes no move to comfort me. Then at last, after several minutes of watching me cry, he speaks.

“What’s done is done. For tonight, get some sleep. We’ll discuss it in the morning.”

Upstairs in my room, I’m an absolute wreck. Sleep? How can I sleep?! Every time I close my eyes, all I can see is Harrison’s body, lying there face down, the back of his head cracked open like an egg.

Still, it is a little comforting to be surrounded by these familiar things. Moving through my museum-like room slowly, handling the hilt of the samurai sword mounted on the wall, fingering the paper-like scalp of the shrunken monkey head from the Amazon, stopping in front of my life-size Egyptian sarcophagus replica propped up in the corner of my room to trace the grooves in his face, going through my collection of this and that gathered from cultures all over the world, I feel myself beginning to calm. Like this all the shame of their false accusations that I lied and made a scene to ruin Louise’s party melts away, leaving behind one immovable fact.

Harrison Squire was murdered.

I know what I saw. I did not imagine it.

And I’m going to prove it.

Changing out of my torn party dress, I slip into a black romper and throw a dark wool sweater over it. I pull my short hair back and secure it in a half ponytail. Then, when I’m sure the rest of the house is asleep, I head out with my flashlight to investigate the scene of the crime.

It’s a chilly night. The moon is a thin crescent high in the sky, offering very little light. For now I walk without the aid of the flashlight, afraid of drawing attention to my location.

I walk around to the northwest side of the house, where I was playing croquet with Letty earlier. I come to the tree line and, steeling my determination, stride in. Now sheltered by the trees, I switch on my flashlight.

I look around a minute, try to get my bearings. It’s hard to say where I came in exactly looking for the ball, and these woods have been trampled by searchers since I first stumbled upon the body. I think it was this way, through these bushes…

After just a few minutes of searching, I think I’ve found the spot. As they said, there’s no body, but there must be some kind of clue that will prove he was here…

Squatting down, I guide my light carefully across the ground, inspecting every inch, turning over every leaf in the hopes of picking up a clue. A blood spatter, a button, something.

Like this, half an hour passes, with nothing to show for my trouble. I’m discouraged, but not dissuaded. I continue my meticulous comb of the forest floor.

An hour’s gone by, and my flashlight is fading when I catch a glimpse of metallic gleam beneath a nearby bush. Eagerly I reach my hand in and my fingers close around a cold brass bullet.

That’s right, I think excitedly, turning the bullet over in my palm. Harrison was holding a rifle, one of those with the long barrels. I think they call them sniper rifles…

It’s a clue, for sure. It won’t prove anything to my father, or the sheriff, for that matter. But it’s proof enough for me.

I’m not crazy. There was a body here. And somebody moved it. Probably right after I left. But they couldn’t have taken him far. Not with everyone out searching only minutes later…

Just then, my flashlight sputters out, leaving me in darkness. For the moment, I’m not worried about it. My mind’s working too furiously to really consider the potential danger of my present situation. Besides, there is a bit of moon. And the longer I stand here, the clearer it illuminates the shapes around me, each tree and bush.

With my arms crossed over my breasts I gaze thoughtfully into the darkness, trying to piece together the events of the day.

It was a little after three when I finished playing piano for Lady Charlotte. After that we waited around in the yard for Louise to show up for Father’s toast, and then Letty and I went to play croquet.

I figure it was around 3:20 when I stumbled upon the body. Freshly dead, or at least that’s how he seemed to me. Indeed, he must have been, since at that point the killer still had not had time to move the body.

The thought gives me chills. If it happened the way I’m imagining, then doesn’t that mean there’s a possibility the killer was right here when I found the body, watching me? Perhaps from behind this very bush…

Movement. The sound of a twig snapping in the shadows to my left. I duck down instinctually, hairs raised on the back of my arms.

In the moonlight I faintly see the silhouette of a man moving past me. He’s lugging something heavy.

The killer?!

I shouldn’t linger here. I should go right back to the house for backup. But if I do that, I might lose him, and just get accused of making up stories again.

I make the split decision to follow him.

I go on light footsteps, keeping low to the ground. The figure trails deeper into the woods. I wish there was more light to see by, wish I could make out any distinguishing features at all, but the same darkness that hides me conceals his identity.

At last he comes to the riverbank. Then he stops. Looks back.

I freeze.

I’m completely defenseless. I have nothing. If that man circles back, if he happens to spot me—

God, please!

The figure turns again. I sink down behind a big maple tree, holding my hands over my mouth.

I hear the sound of a shovel moving earth. He digs for a long time. I’d like to try and get another look at him, but I dare not move. Then—silence.

The digging’s stopped. My heart seems to have stopped with it.

Footsteps.

Coming closer.

I squeeze my eyes shut tight, not daring to breathe…