Walking would have been easier on the other side of the creek, where the park’s trails ran along the edge of a bluff, but the creek was deeper here. Kali didn’t even seem tempted to wade across it and scale the bluff. Instead, she followed the faint path that she had walked so many times, picking her way downstream toward her own home.
When Faye had begun to think that Kali would never speak, she spoke.
“It’s hot, but it’s still nice out here by the water. Didn’t think I could stand sitting in that house one more minute. Uncle Laneer likes to listen to the gospel station. Plays it from getting up to going to bed. It’s like living in a church. Which I guess is better than living in a bar with music that’s just as loud, but still.”
Faye laughed, but she wondered how Kali knew what a bar sounded like. She decided to take the risk of going straight to a tough subject. She thought the girl would respect her for not beating around the bush.
“Your Uncle Laneer and Sylvia tell me you haven’t said a word to them since I left yesterday. How come you’re talking to me now?”
Faye counted how many steps she took before Kali spoke. It was seventeen.
“Want me to stop talking again? I know how to shut up, you know.”
“I do know that, and no, I don’t want you to shut up.”
“I’m talking to you ’cause I got stuff I want them to know, but I can’t stand it when Uncle Laneer cries. I’d rather stay in my room forever than say something that makes him cry. I need you to tell him something.”
“Anything.”
“I want to pick out the flowers for my mama’s funeral. And her dress. I want to pick the dress they bury her in.”
This time Faye was the one who stayed silent for several steps. How was she supposed to talk to a child about her murdered mother’s funeral?
Finally, she said, “Okay. I’ll do it. If you don’t want to talk to them about those things, I will.”
More silent walking took them downhill as the bank got lower and lower. By the time they reached Kali’s back yard, they were so near to the creek’s level that the path was wet. Water stood in the ruts below the unused swingset.
Faye picked her way around the path’s puddles, wondering how high the creek rose with heavy rain and whether water had ever seeped into the house. Mold was so bad for little children.
When Faye was convinced that Kali had sunk back into her quiet grief and that she wouldn’t be hearing the child’s voice again that day, the girl spoke. “She liked carnations. Pink ones. And she looked really pretty in yellow. There’s a yellow dress she used to wear. I really liked it. She had silver shoes and a necklace and earrings and everything. I want her to wear that. You tell my uncle.”
Faye promised to tell Laneer, hoping against all hope that Frida had owned more than one yellow dress. She would rather walk through fire than say, “We can’t bury your mama in her yellow dress, sweetie. You see, she was murdered in that dress, and it will never be whole again.”
Kali had turned toward the creek crossing and strode in, shoes and all. Faye stuck with the handy rocks that kept her feet out of the water but she hurried across them to keep up with the girl. She could see where Kali was going and she didn’t want her to go alone.
They made better progress along the park-maintained trail, reaching Kali’s hideout quickly. The trail took a hard turn there but Kali didn’t follow it. Instead, she stepped into the grass and rushed to her special place. She was in such a hurry to get there that she ran the last few steps. After tossing a few sweetgum balls aside, she dropped to the ground. Sitting with her arms clasped around her bent knees, Kali leaned against a tree. Faye found her own tree and assumed the same position. The spot was so small that their feet bumped together when they sat. Kali carefully rearranged herself so that she was touching nothing but the ground beneath her and the tree at her back.
Not far outside this cozy spot was a terrible place. It was invisible from where Faye sat, hidden by trees and greenery, but she knew it too well. It was a rectangle of disturbed soil where Frida had been left to die. Nothing that Detective McDaniel and his crime scene technicians could do would ever make that spot right again.
Kali had chosen to sit facing away from her mother’s first grave. Her body was stiff, taut, electric with tension, and she didn’t say a word. Had she already said all she wanted to say? Had she asked Faye to join her just so that she could tell her about a yellow dress? Did she invite her because she was afraid to be here alone? Or did she wish Faye would go away and leave her in peace?
There was no way in hell that Faye was going to leave this child alone here. And there was no way in hell that either of them would be staying here much longer, because the reality was already sinking in for Faye that they shouldn’t be this far from help when there was a murderer at large.
“First of all,” Kali announced, “you can tell the policeman that I know who Mama’s date was that night.”
“Do you want me to call Detective McDaniel and put you on the phone?”
“No, I want you to tell
