Chapter 28
He’s a small boy, stubby fingers wrapped around a fishing pole. He has all the trappings of a small boy: a mass of sun freckles across the bridge of his nose, a missing tooth, cutoff denim shorts, and a White Sox T-shirt. Behind him stands a whitewashed pier and sun-dappled water. But certain elements jar this Huck Finn picture of innocence. The boy should be grinning, but he’s not. The slackness of his mouth indicates that a boyish grin is a foreign concept. His eyes stare back at the photographer with a pointed lack of mirth.
McGrew set the photograph on the seat of the rented Ford Taurus as the light changed. He sped forward on Route 45, on the outskirts of Salem, Ohio. Earlier, he had passed through the town, asking for directions to Myers Lake.
“Just follow 45 all the wa
