I thought of asking to use the bathroom. I was okay for the moment, but I knew that my infected urinary tract could and would act up at any minute. Julie, Ruth and Ethan, though, were already heading back toward the stairs. I could wait.

Once we were downstairs again, Julie turned to Ruth. “It makes me happy to see how nice the whole house looks,” she said, touching our hostess’s arm. “I can tell you love living here.”

“We do,” she said, guiding us through the open French doors onto the porch. “Was the porch screened when you lived here?” she asked.

“Uh-huh,” Julie said, looking from one end of the porch to the other. “This is where we spent most of our time.”

I remembered the porch. Of all the house, it had changed the least, perhaps because the view was still of the small sandy backyard and the water. A long farm table and six ladder-back chairs stood where our old table used to be, and white faux wicker rockers and love seats and coffee tables filled the rest of the space.

The little boy I’d seen in the pool was sitting in the backyard, sharing a lounge chair with a man who appeared to be reading to him in the fading light. Nothing made me happier than seeing a parent sharing a book with a child.

Ruth must have seen me watching them. “Come meet my family,” she said.

We walked outside. The sand in the backyard was already cooling down, and it felt good beneath my feet. The man spotted us and he and the boy stood up.

“Hi, Ethan,” the man said. “And these must be the former owners.”

Ethan introduced us to Ruth’s husband, Jim, and their seven-year-old son, Carter. We chatted about the house and the area for a few minutes, swatting mosquitoes as darkness began to close in on us.

Julie’s gaze shifted to the part of the yard nearest the corner of the house. “When I was a kid,” she said, pointing, “I buried a box of treasures right over there.”

“A treasure box?” Carter asked, looking interested in our conversation for the first time.

Julie nodded.

“Could it still be there?” Ruth asked.

Julie shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe someone found it during the last forty years, or they had some work done to the house foundation and it got disturbed.”

“Or maybe it is still there,” Ethan said. He nudged Julie. “Do you want to see?”

Julie looked at our hosts. “It wasn’t buried very deep,” she said, and I knew she was reassuring them that we wouldn’t be digging up their entire yard. “Just a few inches, really.”

Ruth looked at her husband, whose expression said, Why the heck not? “I’ll get a shovel and flashlight,” he said, and he headed toward the garage.

Carter looked up at Julie. Even in the dim light, I could see he had his mother’s pretty blue eyes. “What did you put in the box?” he asked.

“Things I found,” she said, as we started walking toward the corner of the house. “Just silly things.”

Jim returned with a garden shovel and a strong halogen lantern.

“You know,” Ruth said, looking at the small shovel her husband had provided, “people have brought in fresh sand over the years. We had a couple of truckloads come in when we moved here. It might be down pretty far by now, if it’s still there at all.”

Julie took the shovel and knelt in the sand, glancing at the corner of the house, taking some measurement with her eyes. I could tell that, even after all this time, she knew exactly where the box should be. With the shovel, she smoothed away a couple of inches of sand from the surface of the ground. Then she set the blade of the shovel into the sand at a ninety-degree angle, and we heard it hit something solid.

“Oh, my God,” Julie said. “It’s still here.”

We all sat down on the ground, and Carter and I helped sweep the sand away with our hands, while Julie worked with the shovel and Jim held the lantern balanced on his knee. Soon the top of the box was completely exposed, and Julie dug her fingers around the lid on one side while I did the same on the other.

Julie looked at me across the box. “One, two, three,” she said, and we lifted the lid together, sending a fine dusting of sand onto the objects below.

Carter reached into the bread box, and I wanted to stop him. This was Julie’s box of treasures. I wanted her to be able to do this herself.

Ruth seemed to read my mind. “Wait, Carter,” she said. “Let Julie do it, since it’s really her box. Then maybe she’ll let you use it for some of your own toys and things in the future.”

Julie nodded her thanks to Ruth. “Of course, I’ll let you use it,” she said to Carter. “After tonight, it will be yours.”

“Oh, good!” Carter folded his hands in his lap. What a nice kid.

I could see how hungry Julie was to dig through the old remnants of her life, but I had to go to the bathroom and that was all I could think about. I wished the antibiotics would kick in and knock the infection on its rear. I was about to tell everyone I needed to leave, when Julie suddenly let out a squeal. She reached into the box and pulled out a tiny leather baby shoe. It had probably been white at one time; in the lantern light it took on a yellowish-orange glow.

“Omigosh,” Julie said. “I found this in the shallow water where Grandpop used to keep his killie trap.” She looked across the open box at Ethan and smiled. “And where Ethan kept his marine laboratory.”

Ethan laughed. “Oh, yeah,” he said. “I forgot about that.”

“Did your microscope still work after I…you know?” she asked him, and I could tell the question had an esoteric meaning known only to the two of them.

“It was fine,” Ethan said.

Julie reached into the box again. “And look at this!” she said, pulling out an old record, a forty-five. She held it under the splash of light from the lantern and laughed. “Neil Sedaka. ‘Happy Birthday Sweet Sixteen,’” she said. “I don’t know where I picked that up.”

I had to interrupt. “I’m afraid I need to use the bathroom,” I said, getting to my feet. “I’ll go over to Ethan’s and be back in a min—”

“Use ours,” Ruth said, nodding toward the house. “Go ahead.”

“Thanks,” I said. I walked up the two steps to the porch, pushed open the screen door, then raced down the hallway toward the bathroom, leaving my sister’s yelps of discovery behind me.

CHAPTER 42

Julie

Sifting through that box was the strangest thing. I was glad for the poor lighting in the backyard, because my eyes were misty and I didn’t want anyone to notice. I felt sympathy for the lonely girl who’d tucked meaningless objects away, longing for a mystery to solve. She’d never imagined the real, unwanted mystery that would await her midway through that summer. Picking out the scraps of old cloth, the dented Ping-Pong ball, the baby shoe, I became aware as never before that I had indeed been a mere child, a twelve-year-old with little concept of real danger. The only scary things I’d known about were from my Nancy Drew books, where the heroine always prevailed in the end.

Something caught my eye in the bottom corner of the bread box, tucked beneath another record and a piece of cloth. It couldn’t possibly be what I thought it was.

“Could you move the lantern a little closer, please, Jim?” I asked.

The circle of light fell into the box, and there it was. Red and purple, as I remembered it. I reached into the corner and pulled out the small plastic giraffe.

“I never put this in here,” I said, quite certain that was the truth.

“What is it?” Ethan asked, leaning closer. I could feel his breath against my bare shoulder.

“A toy,” I said. “A giraffe. Isabel and Ned used to—”

“That was Ned’s,” Ethan interrupted me. “Our uncle gave it to him. He gave us both one. Mine was an elephant. It’s a puzzle.” He reached for it.

“A puzzle?” I was confused. “I thought it was just a token they used to pass between each other.”

“Who did?” Ethan examined the giraffe. “Ned and your sister?”

I nodded.

“I’m not sure how this one works,” he said. He was manipulating the giraffe’s tail and neck; I had never even realized the toy had moving parts. Suddenly the red and purple halves of the giraffe sprung apart, and I laughed out loud.

“They must have sent notes to each other in the giraffe!” I said. “I never guessed.”

Ethan held the halves of the giraffe beneath the lamplight.

“It looks like there’s a note in here right now,” he said.

CHAPTER 43

Lucy

I finished in the bathroom and walked into the dimly lit hallway. I was standing next to the screened front door when I heard laughter out on the road. I turned to look, but it had grown so dark that I could barely make out the group of small, giggling children as they ran down the street. I couldn’t have said how many there were or if they were boys or girls, but watching them, I began once again to remember the night Isabel died, and for a moment, Julie and her Nancy Drew box were forgotten.

I remembered waking up alone in the attic that night, determined not to scream. I remembered my frantic race down the pull-down stairs and the way they’d shivered under my light weight. But I had not gone immediately to my parents’ room and then to the couch to sleep, as I’d previously recalled. First, I’d gone to the back porch to find Julie. I’d looked in the direction of the bed at the end of the long porch, but it had been too dark to see if anyone was there.

“Julie?” I’d called.

There’d been no answer and the darkness had felt suffocating to me. I could hear the water lapping against the bulkhead, and the croaking of a frog joined the nighttime music of the crickets. I was aware of the woods outside the screens to my right, but I couldn’t see the trees for the darkness, and the thought of what might be lurking out there made me turn and run back into the living room and then down the hall.