On the day Holly and Izzy have their lunch in Dingley Park, on his way back to his room, nothing on his mind but the Baby Ruth in his pocket, Jerry stops outside the door. Someone inside says, low: “Where’d you bury her, Daddy?” Heart beating so hard it thrums in his scrawny neck, Jerry goes into his cubbyhole-sized room. Which is empty. Only the ceramic horse on his desk. Staring at him.
