Paz shook her head and held out her hands. “Lucy says she needs to be here so here she is.” She was gesturing at Izabel and looking at Andy. “Are you going to be a problem?”

“I’m never a problem,” Andy said. “Are you recording this?”

“We want to record it, yes,” Paz said.

“No. You can take notes, but you can’t record it.”

“Fine.”

“Do you need anything?” Andy asked Izabel.

“I’m okay.”

“I’ll get some waters in here,” Paz said.

Paz came back with Lucy and four bottles of water. Izabel opened hers immediately, focusing on it instead of Lucy.

“It’s good to see you.” Lucy smiled. “Adira, the girl’s mother, keeps coming to me since we met.”

Izabel looked up at that. “We’re taking good care of Jana.”

“She knows.”

“Why do you need me here?” Izabel asked her.

“She’s more clear when you’re here.”

Izabel nodded.

“I asked you to come see me,” Lucy said, putting her hand on Izabel’s hand. “You said you would.”

“I haven’t had time yet. I didn’t know it would help with this.”

“It might not.”

Paz blurted out, “You have been calling every day—”

Lucy slid her elbow gently into Paz’s arm and Paz stopped.

“The mother would be most clear with Jana here, but that can be difficult for a child. I thought you’d prefer this.”

Izabel nodded again.

“Let’s start,” Paz said.

“She wants me to say she’s sorry. She won’t say anything else until she knows she’s said that.”

“Why’s she sorry?” Paz asked, turning on her quick.

“That’s not for you,” Lucy said. “Have you heard it, sweetie?”

“Yes,” Izabel said. She wanted to reach up and touch the mark left on her cheek, but she didn’t.

“Then I’m ready to start,” Lucy said. “I’m going to hold your hand, Izabel, and I want you to keep your eyes closed. Inspector, I’m going to count backwards from ten and then I want you to ask me questions as if I’m Adira, as we discussed. Okay?”

Lucy counted backwards from ten, and Izabel focused on the feeling of Lucy’s hand as she kept her eyes closed.

“What can you tell me about the person who cut through the house?” Paz asked.

“It was a man.”

“Can you tell me anything about the man?”

“He was taller than Mohamed.”

“Your husband?” Paz rustled through some papers. “Your husband is five eight?”

“Yes.”

“So five ten maybe?”

“Yes.”

“Did you see his skin?”

“He was a white man.”

“Did he say anything?”

“He cursed when the woman showed up.”

“What did he say?”

“I don’t want to say it.”

“Please,” Paz said. It was the nicest Paz had ever sounded.

“Cunt.”

“Did he have an accent?”

“No.”

“A low voice, or high?”

“Normal.”

“Was there anything unusual about him?”