knew it too.
Alves drifted over to talk with some of the parents. A few were angry about having a practice on a Sunday night, especially with the first full week of school starting the next morning. But he had no choice. Their first game was less than a week away and the kids had to be prepared. He didn’t want any of them getting hurt.
Mrs. Williams was staring him down. He gave her his best smile, hoping to break the tension. He was sympathetic, some of the mothers worked long hours like he did. She was a nurse and overprotective. The other parents were folding chairs and gathering up their things. “Same time tomorrow night, guys,” he called before he lost any of them. “Trevor had a great practice, Mrs. Williams. I think we’ve got our center for Saturday’s game.”
But her smile of gratitude froze on her face as a scream cut through the air.
“Kids horsing around,” someone said.
“Maybe,” Alves said. He was always breaking up shoving matches, telling his players to pay attention, to stop poking each other. Raising his whistle to his lips, he turned to see who he was going to have to discipline.
A second scream, this time louder, more sustained. It was Iris. Something was wrong.
Alves began to jog across the dusty baseball diamond in the middle of their practice field, trying to make out figures on the darkening hill. Then a chorus of screams echoed across the field. There was Iris, leading the rest of the team down the hill. She had her brother by his jersey, dragging him. Alves was running at a full sprint now. When he reached Iris at the foot of the hill, her face was pale with terror.
“It’s okay, honey. Daddy’s here,” he said, hugging her close. He reached out and grabbed Angel in his embrace.
“She’s dead, Daddy. She’s dead,” Iris cried.
“Who’s dead?”
“The woman is dead, Daddy. I know she is,” Iris shouted, pointing up the hill.
“Iris,” Alves said. “Listen to me, honey. I want you to lead the team back to the other parents. You and Angel can wait with Mrs. Williams. I’ll be back in a minute, okay?”
He held her until she nodded.
“Everything’s going to be fine. Now, run.”
Then Alves started up the hill as the last of the kids staggered down. “Go to your parents,” he instructed them. None of them seemed upset. Maybe they hadn’t seen what Iris had.
A few of the other parents caught up to Alves. “Everything okay, Angel?” one of them asked. “You need some help?”
“Wait here,” Alves said. “I’ll give a shout if I need you.”
Alves took his Mini Mag-Lite out of his belt holster and made his way up the hill, shining the light on the path in front of him. He was getting some extra light from the glow of the field lights, not enough to feel comfortable. As he reached the crest of the hill, the path widened out, and he emerged from the tree-lined path onto a ledge surrounding a large rock. He had never been up here before. He had only watched from the field below as the kids made their laps to begin and end practice.
Without the cover of the trees, the moonlight gave him some guidance as he navigated along the path. He scanned his surroundings, sweeping the air with broad strokes of his extended arm, the flashlight cutting into the cool night air. No signs of a dead woman anywhere. What had Iris seen?
Alves turned to go back down the hill on the other side of the rock. And, there she was, leaning up against a tree, her head tilted, gazing at him. Her face was made up for a night out. She was wearing a light-colored gown with a fancy necklace. It was her pose that set something off in him. Her back was arched, accentuating her chest, her cleavage revealed in the cut of the dress. The seductive pose, her outfit, and the makeup made her seem so alive.
But her eyes, covered in a milky film, told a different story. Alves had spent a lot of time around death in the last few years and he could sense it. If he’d wanted, he could check her pulse the way paramedics and doctors did before pronouncing death. He could attempt to revive her. But Alves didn’t. She was dead.
As he got closer with his light he saw that the makeup was caked on thick, covering the discoloration of her skin. A thin black