Nathaniel

Shadow barked happily and dashed ahead. Michael looked up and saw his grandmother seated in her wheelchair just in front of the porch. As he watched, the big dog bounded up to her and reared up to put his paws on the old woman's lap, his tongue licking at her face.

"Get down," Michael yelled, breaking into a run. "Shadow, get down!"

"It's all right," A

Michael glanced around uncertainly. "Where's Mom?" he asked. "And Grandpa?"

"Your grandfather's at home, and your mother and Aunt Laura had some errands to run. But I wanted to talk to you, so here I am."

"T-talk to me?" Michael asked. "About what?"

"All kinds of things," A

Michael stared at his grandmother. Her eyes were on him, and though he expected them to be angry, instead he saw only a soft warmth. And she was smiling.

"D-did Mom tell you that?"

A

Michael swallowed, then nodded. "Mom says it was only a dream, though."

"I know," A

"You mean you believe me?"

"I don't believe you're a liar, Michael. As far as I know, you've only lied once, and I believe you had your reasons for that lie." She paused a moment, then went on. "It was the night Aunt Laura's baby was born," she said. "You saw them bury her baby out in the field, didn't you? Out in Potter's Field?"

Michael froze, a wave of fear washing over him.

"Is that what happened, Michael?" A

"I-I'm not supposed to tell. I'm not supposed to tell anybody. H-he told me-" Michael broke off, already surg he'd said too much.

"But you didn't tell me," A

Uncertainly, Michael nodded.

"And what about that day in the barn, Michael, when your grandfather stabbed your foot? Are you allowed to tell me about that?"

"Mom said that was an accident-" Michael began, but A

"I'm sure your mother thinks it was an accident. But I want you to tell me what really happened. Can you do that?"

Slowly, Michael told his grandmother what had happened in the loft. When he was done, A

"N-no."

"Well, don't you think we ought to find out?"

Michael frowned. "But Mom says I only imagined it all. Mom says I only dreamed the things I saw."

"But what if you didn't, Michael? What if you really saw it all?"

"You mean you believe me? You don't think I'm crazy?"

A

Michael's eyes widened apprehensively. "But Mr. Findley-"

"Ben Findley won't stop us," A

With Michael behind her and Shadow at her side, A

"Leave me here," A

Michael's expressionless eyes seemed fixed on a point in the distance. A

Michael came out of his daze, and his eyes shifted to his grandmother. "But what if old man Findley-"

"He won't come out," A

As A

For ten minutes, the boy and the dog ranged back and forth across the field, finding nothing. Then, suddenly, Shadow stiffened-and went on point.

And at the same time, a headache began to form in Michael's temples.

There was a stone on the ground, a stone that didn't quite seem to belong in the field. Though it was weathered, it seemed to have been purposely shaped, flattened and rounded as if it was meant to mark something. As Michael stared at the stone, Shadow moved slowly forward, his nose twitching, soft eager sounds emerging from his throat.

"Here." Though it was only one word, the voice inside his head was unmistakable. The word resounded in his head, echoing, then gradually faded away. As it died, the headache cleared.

Michael knelt on the ground and carefully moved the stone aside. He began digging in the soft moist earth beneath the stone.

Six inches down, his fingers touched something, and after a little more digging, he was able to unearth the object.

It was a piece of bone, thin and dish shaped, and even though Michael had never before seen such a thing, he knew at once what it was. A fragment of a skull.

In twenty minutes, Michael and Shadow found five more of the flat, round stones, and beneath each of the stones, there were pieces of bone.

At last, Michael returned to his grandmother and told her what he'd found.

"What are we going to do?" he asked as they began making their way back toward the house.

For a long time, A

Michael gazed fearfully at his grandmother. "I-I'm not supposed to tell. If I tell, I'll die."

A

Michael paled slightly. "You're not going to tell Grandpa, are you?"

A

Michael nodded silently, then pushed his grandmother's chair through the front door. When his mother and his aunt arrived a few minutes later, neither he nor his grandmother said a word about what had transpired between them.

It was their secret, and, Michael decided, he liked having a secret with someone else. Since his father had died, there had been no one to share secrets with.

No one except Nathaniel.

Ben Findley let the curtain drop back over his window as the woman and the boy disappeared into the house next door. For a long time, he thought about what he ought to do, wondered if, indeed, he ought to do anything at all. In the end, though, he went to the telephone, picked it up, and dialed. When it was finally answered, he explained exactly what he'd seen. "I don't want them there," he finished. "I don't want your family snooping in my field."