Frank photographed the remaining marks and noted their limitations.

I stood where the box had been.

The distance to the road looked shorter now that nothing occupied it.

A truck passed, carrying wind and dust with it.

I stepped back.

I remembered the boy’s hand against the blanket.

Whatever reason had brought the babies here, the shoulder had not become safe because they had survived it.

Back at the station, we reviewed Mara’s known addresses.