It was Esmeralda who continued when Jamal’s words tailed off into sputtering curses. Kaylin hadn’t seen her arrive. “He had a peculiar look, as my nana used to say. We thought he’d been drinking, but it’s harder to tell—we can’t really smell anything, either. But he pushed her out of the way and forced himself in.

“I think he would have hurt her if he couldn’t find what he was looking for.”

A third child joined the other two. “He was never going to find it.” Callis was quieter and less obviously certain than either Jamal or Esmeralda. “But he was going to destroy a lot of things while searching.” His voice implied that this was the best case, and Kaylin understood this.

He’d probably demand that Mrs. Erickson produce a thing she couldn’t produce, and if she failed...

“Jamal hurt him. Jamal started to throw things at his head—he’s a pretty good aim. He got scared, and he ran out of the house screaming about ghosts.” Esmeralda smiled. Had Kaylin seen that smile at any other time, she would have assumed it was friendly, if mischievous.

Given what she now knew of how each of the four children—or their bodies—had died, she felt a bit of a chill. It took the edge off her anger. She turned—more calmly—to Mrs. Erickson, unwilling to hear any more about children trying to murder an abusive wreck of a neighbor. “Has he been demanding that you give him whatever it is he thinks was stolen?”

Mrs. Erickson nodded.

“Did he happen to say what it was he was missing?”

“No. He seems to believe I know. I’ve asked,” she added, her voice soft. “I thought maybe I could scrape together enough money to buy a replacement. But asking just angered him; it didn’t give me any answers. I haven’t—”

“We know. You didn’t steal anything from him. Have you ever been in his house?”

“A decade ago—maybe a bit less—when his wife was still alive. She was a lovely young woman.”

“She never came here,” Jamal added. He was obviously skeptical about Mrs. Erickson’s claim.

“Did you see her?”

“She’d come to the door when she was ready to have guests, and she’d escort Mrs. Erickson to her home—but no. She didn’t come in.”

“Did you invite her?”

Mrs. Erickson nodded. “We went to her home. I think she wanted her husband to get used to me.”

Kaylin couldn’t criticize Mrs. Erickson because she seldom had guests in her house. On the rare occasions she did, Helen took over, and Kaylin was happy to let her. But given various idle conversations in the Halls of Law, it seemed a bit strange.

“When did his wife die?”