Muck was in handcuffs.

The Screech Owls–Travis, Nish, Data, Lars, Andy, Gordie, all the others–and most of the Aeros, stood around the parking area as the police led Muck away, in handcuffs. Travis’s eyes stung. He looked at his friend Nish, and Nish was staring straight down at the ground, as if he was too embarrassed to look.

It had to be embarrassment, Travis told himself. It couldn’t be shame. No one could possibly believe that Muck had shot Buddy O’Reilly, no matter how many clues seemed to point his way.

With a policeman at his elbow, Muck marched straight ahead, chin held high. The policeman tried to ease him into the back-seat of the patrol car, but Muck stopped abruptly and turned.

He scanned the crowd. He stared, sure and steady and confident: it was the look the kids knew from the dressing room just before a very important game. Muck full of confidence. Muck with faith. Muck knowing exactly how things would turn out. It couldn’t possibly be a bluff, Travis told himself. Could it?

Muck’s eyes fell on Travis, and he stared.

Then he smiled, once, very quickly, before getting into the patrol car.

“He didn’t do it.”

Travis tried to put all the confidence he felt into the statement. He was not talking to the police any more, but to his friends: Nish and Andy and Data and Jesse and Lars. He wanted them to feel what he felt. Muck had stared at Travis because he wanted him to know something. He had smiled because he wanted him to know that they had the wrong person.

“Look,” said Andy, “I’m as upset as anybody about this–but it doesn’t exactly look good for Muck.”

“He didn’t do it,” Travis repeated.

“How can we know that for certain?” Andy asked. “We think that–but we don’t know it.”

Travis had a thought. “But it was Muck who sent us to the boathouse. He wouldn’t have sent us if he knew Buddy was lying there, dead.”

“Yeah,” said Nish, suddenly hopeful. “Right.”

Andy shook his head. “Buddy’s body was hidden. Whoever did it obviously figured he wouldn’t be found so soon.”

“He didn’t send us there, either,” added Nish, disheartened. “He just told Sarah she could take out a canoe. It was her idea to meet there.”

Travis shook his head. “Muck didn’t do it.”

“He had the gun,” Andy said, ticking off the points on his fingers, “and he knows how to use one. He had a fight with Buddy. He threatened him–there are at least four witnesses to that. And we all know Muck well enough to know that he must have hated Buddy O’Reilly.”

“But not enough to kill him,” Data said. “Muck wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Andy paused. “Well, what would you think if you were a cop?”

“I know what you’re getting at,” said Travis. “But he didn’t do it.”

“Show me some evidence,” Andy nearly shouted. He sounded exasperated, upset.

“There is none,” said a disheartened Nish. “None in Muck’s favour, anyway.”

The boys fell silent for a while, each thinking his own private thoughts. Then Gordie Griffth, who hadn’t said anything, cleared his throat.

“…There’s one thing,” he said.

Travis pounced. “What?”

Gordie cleared his throat again. “…Who was there when Muck took the gun off Roger?”

“We all were,” said Nish impatiently. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Muck took the gun and pumped out the remaining bullets, right?” Gordie said.

“Yeah. So?”

“So how many were left?”

The boys all thought about it. Travis could see Muck wrestling the gun away. He remembered being startled at how familiar Muck had seemed with the gun. He remembered how Muck had aimed the barrel down, straight into the ground, before he pumped out the bullets. One…two…three…four…five.

“Five,” said Travis.

“Five,” said Data. “Exactly.”

“Four or five,” said Andy.

“Five,” said Lars.

“I don’t remember,” said Nish.

“Your point?” Andy asked Gordie.

“Well,” Gordie answered, “if we all saw five, and the police only found three, what happened to the other two?”

“Maybe the police just missed them,” said Nish.

“Maybe they didn’t. Maybe someone else came back and dug up two of the bullets.”

“We better check,” said Travis. He was trying to remain calm, but he couldn’t help but feel some excitement rising. No, it wasn’t excitement: it was hope. Finally.

 

The police had taken down the grid lines, but it was clear where they had done the digging. The boys got shovels from the shed and Travis found a screen that Roger must have built to sift earth. If they threw the earth they dug into the screen and shook it through, any bullet should quickly show up.

They dug for nearly an hour, but nothing.

“So we now have two missing bullets,” said Data.

“The police will just say Muck came back and got them to use on Buddy,” said Andy.

“Why would he? He already had the box. But it could have been someone who wanted to make it look like Muck had done it,” said Gordie.

“What if he threw away the box before he decided he needed a couple of bullets?” countered Andy. “Then he’d come back here.”

Everyone looked at Andy.

“Hey,” he protested, “I’m not saying he did it. I’m just saying what the police would say to us.”

“Look,” said Travis, “we have to assume that Muck didn’t do it. We have to give him the benefit of the doubt.”

“Nobody wants him innocent more than me,” said Andy, looking hurt.

“Okay,” said Lars, “so what then?”

“Then it means someone else had to come and take the two bullets out of the ground.”

“Okay. But who?”

“Who hated Buddy O’Reilly?”

Three of them spoke at once: “Roger!”