Disappearance at Hangman's Bluff by J. E. Thompson

she snapped, then marched over to hear what the policeman had to say. The policeman talked for a moment, and then they went back and forth with a lot of whispering. At one point Grandma Em started to hiss at the policeman in a way that reminded me of an angry cottonmouth.
    Finally Daddy turned and gave me a worried look. I had already guessed what they were all talking about. I could feel a whole bunch of butterflies swarming in my stomach, but I walked over to where they were all talking. As I got close they all stopped whispering and turned.
    â€œThey want one of us to look at his face, don’t they?” I said to Daddy.
    â€œYou are not doing it!” Grandma Em snapped.
    â€œThat’s right, honey,” Daddy said. “You don’t have to do it.”
    I looked at the policeman and nodded. “I’ll do it,” I said, my voice coming out choked. Part of me was terrified and totally grossed out at the idea of looking at a dead man’s face. The other part of me needed to know if this was one of the men who had shot Yemassee.
    Daddy held my hand and walked with me, and we went to stand at the back of the ambulance. About twenty yards away, I could see the two ambulance attendants struggling as they carried the stretcher, since they couldn’t roll it on the muddy ground. Their feet were caked with brown goo, but the sheet covering the body remained perfectly white.
    They came up to us and put down the stretcher very gently. The policeman put his hand on the corner of the sheet and paused. “Are you ready?”
    I nodded and swallowed hard as my stomach bucked and churned. I had seen plenty of dead animals on the side of the road and deer hanging after hunters had shot them and plenty of dead doves and quail, but I had never seen a real dead person before.
    When the policeman peeled back the sheet, I gasped. The man’s face was whitish yellow. Thankfully his eyes were closed. I could see a small hole in the side of his forehead just in front of his ear. There was blood on his shirt, but not much. He had blond hair and a narrow face.
    â€œDo you recognize him?” the policeman asked in a gentle voice.
    I sucked down more air, once again tasting rather than smelling the man’s terrible stink. I didn’t open my mouth until I trusted myself to speak without barfing. “Did he have sunglasses on?” I asked.
    The policeman re-covered the face with the sheet, then he turned and walked over to another policeman. They spoke for a second, and the policeman returned holding a plastic bag in one hand.
    â€œHe was wearing these,” he said, holding out the bag and showing me a pair of wraparound sunglasses.
    â€œCan you show me the face again, please?”
    He pulled back the sheet a second time and held the bag with the sunglasses in front of the face.
    I nodded. “That’s the man who shot the judge’s dog.”
    â€œAre you sure?” the policeman asked.
    â€œYessir, absolutely.”
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    When we finally finished and were able to start home, we loaded the ponies into the horse trailer Daddy had brought over. It was the first time he had driven since he’d woken up, but I didn’t say anything, because I was already in enough trouble as it was. Daddy and I drove back in the Suburban while Bee and Grandma Em followed in Grandma Em’s car.
    â€œYou okay?” Daddy asked as soon as we got under way.
    I nodded.
    â€œIt must have scared your pants off to find that body.”
    I nodded again. “Pretty much.”
    â€œYou know, speaking of being scared, I know you’re worried about me going back to work.”
    I glanced over at him but didn’t say anything.
    â€œBeing scared cuts both ways. To think that you and Bee have been riding around this island trying to find a dog that was stolen by some dangerous criminals—” He slapped the steering wheel and shook his head. “I’ve got to be able to trust