Chapter Twenty
WYATT RACED ONTO the school property, desperately searching for his grandfather, his own heart pounding in his chest. The campfires were dimmed, most out altogether as the phantoms whirled around the circus camp, their agitation apparent as they kicked up debris and dirt. Most of the trailers seemed empty even with the lights on as Wyatt passed one after another, April close behind him. At the far end of the parking lot huddled a crowd of circus folk, all staring at something in the middle of their cluster.
Fear gripped Wyatt’s chest as he picked up the pace. Hodges had called, telling Wyatt about the accident, the scrawny man’s nasally voice sounding whinier than ever. Wyatt could almost picture the man wringing his hands as he spoke. “Your grandfather was helping Patrick
