As she’d suspected, the children weren’t, for the most part, entered into Records as missing. They were physically different enough that they might have been adopted, in which case any abuse or damage was unlikely to be reported by the abuser. But she suspected, given the difference in clothing styles, that they weren’t, or hadn’t been, part of a family.

They were a family of necessity now.

Only one of the four children was listed as missing: Esmeralda. Esmeralda Noachin. Kaylin checked the date of the report: ninety years ago.

Mrs. Erickson was seventy-one as of this year, according to Records. Kaylin was surprised. She knew Mrs. Erickson was old, but not that old. No wonder the kids—or Jamal, at least—were worried. Ninety years ago, Esmeralda was reported missing. But her case wasn’t in the open log, which meant she’d been found.

Kaylin began to read the report more carefully. Esmeralda had been found. Records capture usually included images of corpses, if the corpse, not the living child, was recovered instead. There was no corpse. According to Records, Esmeralda had been found and returned—alive—to her family.

Kaylin had definitely seen a ghost named Esmeralda. Was it possible they’d returned the wrong child? No. No, that wouldn’t be possible—the family would have recognized the difference, surely?

“Records, further files associated with Esmeralda Noachin.”

Records began a gentle ding. There were files associated with Esmeralda. One looked to be long and complicated.

“Records: location Esmeralda was found.”

A map appeared in the mirror’s surface. It was the wrong map; closer by far to a common well than it was to Mrs. Erickson’s home, where the girl was in theory trapped. Somehow, a girl whom her own family accepted as Esmeralda, had been found alive in the wrong place.

Kaylin went back to the missing persons report, to the sketch made of the girl in her clothing—clothing that matched what the ghost wore.

“Records,” she said. “Search for reports related to Mrs. Erickson’s home. All time periods. Any report.” Mrs. Erickson’s house was, in Records, at 14 1/2 Orbonne Street. Why half, Kaylin didn’t know. It’s true the house was smaller than either of its neighbors, but half?

“What are you muttering about, kitling?” Teela’s voice drifted over her shoulder.

“I thought you two were on patrol.”

“We were. There was some trouble and we had to bring a couple of very, very inebriated young men in to cool their heels in a cell.”

Kaylin winced. “How bad were they?”

“We could incapacitate them and dump them in the cells for a day or two, or we could kill them in self-defense. They were, as mortals say, armed to the teeth.” Teela sounded vaguely bored, which meant the inebriated criminals were most likely human. “What are you looking at?”

“Missing persons report.”

“That’s real estate, not missing persons.” Teela frowned. “Mrs. Erickson?”