So Izabel painted with the water. She wanted to use the least amount of effort, which led her to move only her wrist. Just lines at first, and then, as she continued, it looked like a tiger’s stripes. Maybe that’s how tiger stripes came to be, by some god’s hands. And what those stripes resembled, the grasses and shadows of vines and trees and more grasses, those, too, made by more hands of gods, each seeking a bit of rest.

The therapist came out and brought them back into the office. She was especially kind toward Cami.

“You can call me Opa,” she said. And then, looking at Izabel, “Does Cami know why we’re here?”

Izabel looked at Kaito. “I’m actually not sure.”

“Is it okay with you, if we talk openly in front of her?”

“Yes, definitely. We didn’t mean not to talk to her about it.”

Kaito nodded.

Opa looked back at Cami. “Do you know why you’re here?”

“I’ve been sad in my sleep,” Cami said.

“Are you sad when you wake up?” Opa asked.

“No.”

“And is that how you two would describe what’s been happening?”

Izabel started. “There’s been a lot of sleep-talking, and then, only a few times, it’s escalated.”

Kaito continued. “The worst time, she was screaming and wouldn’t wake up.”

“And otherwise she’s been easy to wake up out of it?”

“I think so,” Izabel said. “When it was just talking, we didn’t really try waking her. She always seemed to still be sleeping fine and, you know, ‘never wake a sleeping child.’”

Opa laughed. “Understood. That’s important.”

Izabel was surprised Cami hadn’t bothered them to leave yet. She must have liked Opa and her long black hair and her chunky necklace and bracelets and rings.

“So let’s go back to when this started,” Opa said. “Anything memorable that happened then?”

“We had a malfunction with the air filtration system at our house one night,” Kaito said. “We ended up in the hospital and, while she seemed okay, they had trouble getting Cami to wake up.”

“Did that scare you, Cami?”

“No,” Cami said.

“And the sleep-talking started at the hospital?” Opa asked.

“No, right after,” Kaito said.

“So when was that? An exact date would be good for me.”

Kaito pulled out his tablet. “It was April eighth.”

The adults paused a second. That was a date they all knew. That was the night of the first killing.

“Thanks,” Opa said. “So you feel comfortable at the hospital, Cami?”

Cami shifted around in her seat.

“What’s wrong with the hospital?” Izabel asked.

Cami grabbed Izabel’s arm and hid her head behind it.

“Did something happen more recently at the hospital?” Opa asked.

Izabel and Kaito both realized it at once. Izabel said, “She saw me there.”

“And there were police,” Kaito added.