10
T
he next day after church, we all gathered at the school, and Mom and I told everyone what had happened.
Tyrice was there, too, eager to help with more than just painting, and he told us all that he’d run into Blanch at Hardee’s the night before, and Blanch had apologized.
“For a big boy, that man has a tender heart,” Tyrice said, and I smiled. I loved Blanch, maybe not in the way he wanted me to love him, but I loved him nonetheless.
“Seems like word is already out just about the building, and people are getting squirrely,” Mr. Meade said. “I’m not sure if that means we should go ahead and announce that we’re going to call on the police to reopen the investigation into Charlotte and the children’s murders, or if we need to keep it even more quiet.”
Stephen was sitting in the cor
