backhoe’s tractor simply pushed it aside or
knocked it down.
Weezy said, “That must have been what the helicopter was carrying when I saw it.”
Men fol owed in its wake of destruction, some with rakes, some with hoes, some with baskets. Some wore police uniforms with black leather belts that
circled the waist and crossed the chest, others wore dark suits and narrow-brimmed hats. They’d poke through the turned-up sand and every so often one
would stoop to pick up something. Mostly they tossed whatever they found aside, but every so often one would cal the others over. They’d al cluster
around and look at his find for a few seconds, then place it in one of the baskets and go back to work.
“They can’t do this!” Weezy said. “They’re going to ruin everything!”
She stepped around Jack and started toward the mound. He grabbed her arm and pul ed her back.
“Are you nuts? You can’t stop them.”
“I can try. They’re ruining everything! They’re—”
“Hey!” said a gruff voice behind them. “What are you doing here?”
Eddie squealed. Jack jumped and turned to find a flashlight beam in his eyes, the glare blotting out whoever was holding it.
“Did you hear me?” the voice said, louder. “What the hel are you kids doing here?”
“We-we-we saw the copters,” Eddie said. He sounded scared, his we-can-watch-if-we-want attitude of a few minutes ago vanished.
“Damn!” the man said. After a pause, he pointed to three state police cruisers parked on the fire trail. Jack had been so intent on the backhoe, he
hadn’t seen them. “Al right, get over there.” The man gave Eddie a shove in the direction. “March.”
Eddie stumbled away, his path angling away from the mound. With the light out of his eyes, Jack could see that the man wore a NJ State Trooper
uniform. It looked loose on him, as if he’d lost weight. After a few heartbeats’ hesitation, Weezy started to fol ow. Jack fel in line between her and the
trooper.
A state cop … al he could think of was how this would end: The trooper knocking on his front door in the middle of the night, his father answering, the
trooper explaining where they’d found his son, Dad yanking him inside, grounding him for life, maybe longer.
Oh, this was bad … very bad.
As they reached the nearest police cruiser, a man in a dark suit came over.
“What the hel ’s going on?” he shouted over the sound of the copters.
The trooper jerked his thumb at them. “Saw the choppers. Told you we should have made a southern approach. How many more peepers we gonna
have to deal with before the night’s over?”
The suit stepped closer and played a flashlight over them. The beam lingered on Weezy.
“They’re just kids—dumb piney kids.”
Jack heard a sneer in his tone and felt a flash of anger. He wasn’t a piney and he wasn’t dumb.
“Not pineys,” he said. “We’re from Johnson.”
The suit waved his hands in the air. “Ooh, now
“We happen to be on private land,” Weezy said. “We know Mister Foster and he lets us come here whenever we want.”
Jack glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. They’d never once seen Old Man Foster.
“Yeah?” the suit said. “Wel , if we could find him we could check that out, but he’s a hard man to track down.”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t like you digging up his land.”
The trooper said, “Doesn’t matter what he likes. This is a crime scene and we’ve got warrants. It’s al nice and legal.”
“Then why are you doing it at night?” Jack said.
Weezy chimed in, “Because you’re not looking for evidence, are you. You’re looking for something else.”
“Enough of this crap,” the suit said, sounding annoyed and surprised. He turned to the trooper. “Lock them in your unit until we’re done.”
Jack’s gut tightened. Locked up?
