Enid gasped. “It’s lovely!” She held a small hand-blown glass elephant with a trunk that waved up in the air. It had streaks of blue that were exactly the shade of her eyes. Kate had bought Muriel a similar elephant, but its body was dabbed with the color of her favorite heather green sweater.

“I bought one for myself, too.” A tiny cream-colored elephant with delicate flecks of gold.

“We are officially a herd, then.” Enid smiled, hugging Kate.

But when she tried to speak, tears closed her throat. She nodded.

The two sisters packed the boxes with great care, Enid placing them in her purse. With a promise to have tea the next day, the sisters went home.

The house seemed so empty after they left.

Kate thought of the suitcases still waiting to be unpacked.

She thought of the box in her closet.

It’s time, Kate.

You are going to have to face this in a few days, anyway, when the preliminary inquiry is held.

She climbed the stairs, a white dog on one heel and a black dog on the other. They settled on the dog bed, curved around one another. Foo Dog yawned, his tongue endearingly pink against his black muzzle.

Kate strode to the closet and opened the door with more force than she intended. It banged against the wall.

The box sat on the floor of her closet.

It was dingy, a document box that had sat in storage for too many years.

She knelt in front of it.

Lifted the lid.

Blood stains marked one side.

Her blood.

She felt her stomach revolt.

Her cells crawl.

She forced herself to stare into the box. You can do this.

Imogen’s purple Language Arts binder sat on top. Purple had been her favorite color. Kate lifted it out. Under it was the pencil case. Kate unzipped it and pulled out three pencils, and one pen with the little buttons that changed the ink tube so that one could write in different colors. Imogen had loved that pen. Kate held it in her hand. Her fingers curved around the smooth plastic where Imogen’s once had been.

There had been a necklace that Imogen had received for her thirteenth birthday, a gift from Kate and her mother. Kate felt around in the box, discovering it in a crumpled heap in the back corner. As if it had huddled in fear when Kate was attacked.

She scooped the necklace into her palm. The hard edge of something brushed her hand.

A photo.

Her heart pounded. Maybe it was a photo of her and Imogen. One that she could frame.

She held it up to the light. A man smiled at the camera, his arm around a gangly twelve-year-old Kate and a round-eyed ten-year-old Imogen. He was of average height, with brown hair and amber eyes.

Her father.

She threw the photo into the box.

It fell, face down.