That quiet look of unflappable resolve is a Julie Bergen classic. It’s the same one she wore when she marched calmly into the kitchen to see why my little sister Landry was screaming, only to discover that she had chopped off the tip of her middle finger, along with the end of a carrot.

Silence descends from the other side of the lockers, and in that silence, my mother’s heavy exhalation echoes like a distant roll of thunder.

A heartbeat later, she starts talking. “John, call the state police and let them know we need to borrow a couple of lab techs.”

Because while the Clifford PD is perfectly equipped to collect evidence, it lacks the manpower and facilities of a larger police force. At least, that’s what my mom told me when that meth lab blew up half the Dogwood Village trailer park last year.

“I want the security footage from any camera that faces the locker room door. Has anyone touched anything in here?”

“The coach said she touched the baby, to see if it was breathing,” Officer Trent says. “But no one’s touched anything since.”

“What about the bag? Do we know whose it is?”

“Coach says that duffel bag is available to any school athlete with twenty bucks to spend, so it could belong to a couple hundred different people.”

“Yeah, my son has one just like it,” my mother says. “So do all his friends.”

“The school secretary is putting together a list of everyone who bought one in the past three years.”

“Okay. I’m going to have Coach Killebrew walk me through this, while you call State, then I want you to take her to the station to submit prints and DNA for exclusion, just in case.”

“I’m on it.” Officer Trent appears in the main aisle with his phone pressed to his ear, and a second later my mother follows him.

Nothing fazes Lieutenant Julie Bergen. Nothing. Yet she looks a little pale as she waves me up from the bench.

“You okay?”

I nod as I sling my backpack over my shoulder.

“Did you touch anything?”

“No.” I should tell her I know whose bag that is. And I will. But not yet.

“All right. I’m going to have Robert escort you to the library, where it’s quiet. I’ll be there to take your statement in a few minutes.” She frowns, still studying my face. “You sure you’re okay, Beckett?”

“I’m fine. I just … Why would someone leave a baby in a gym bag?”

“I promise you, we’re going to figure that out.”

Officer Robert Green seems uncomfortable in the library. He keeps pacing, like he’s afraid that if he sits still for too long, one of the books will sneak up on him.