The wind blew cold. Rain pooled in the bottom of the hole, but we found nothing else. Joe hunkered down with his back to the wall, his face hidden in his hands.
“Baby Doll only had one bootee. And the ribbons were blue,” I said.
Joe took a shuddering breath. “And Uncle Fred had a great bald patch on his front where she’d tried to shave him.”
I put a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe we should just accept that we’ll never know who took her or why. Maybe we should…start again.”
Joe’s shoulders shook, and I couldn’t tell if he was nodding in agreement or weeping.