Jason suddenly stopped so abruptly that I nearly walked straight into him.
“Whoa,” I said, steadying myself. “What’s going on, buddy?”
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he stared down into the tall grass beside the path as if he had spotted buried treasure.
Then he crouched.
His small hand reached into the weeds and pulled something free.
“A teddy bear,” he said softly.
I stepped closer and immediately grimaced.
That bear was disgusting.
Its once-brown fur had turned a muddy gray, stiff with dirt and what looked like old grass stains. One eye was completely missing, leaving behind a dark, empty hole in the fabric. A long tear stretched across its back, and clumps of yellowed stuffing bulged out through the rip.
Continue on the next page:
