“Could it have been your condition?” D.D. wondered. “Maybe he did cut you. But you wouldn’t have cried, right? And that wouldn’t have been very satisfying to him.”

Adeline appeared surprised. “In all the years, I’ve never considered that.”

“Really? Seems an obvious thought.”

“It’s possible, I suppose, but not probable. We didn’t know about my condition yet. It wasn’t discovered until I was three. Then it was my sister who did the honors. She cut me.”

D.D. blinked. “Your sister, the six-year-old, cut you?”

“It’s what she knew. A learned behavior drilled into her night after night: Blood is love. And in her own way, my sister loves me.”

“I’m not attending any of your family reunions.”

“She took scissors to my arms. When I didn’t cry out, she cut deeper. Which might be further evidence my father couldn’t have known. I have a feeling his first instinct would’ve been to cut deeper as well, and I don’t bear those kinds of scars.”

“Okay.”

“So question of the day, Detective: Is evil born or made?”

“Nature versus nurture.”

“Exactly. What do you think?”

D.D. shook her head. “No need to choose; I’ve seen both.”

“Me, too. A good person can be warped into evil, and an evil person can be tempered by good.”

“So your point is?”

“None of that matters when it comes to my sister; she got screwed by both.”

“The daughter of a serial killer,” D.D. filled in, “already subjected to years of ritualistic abuse, then turned loose in the foster care system.” At which point, the light finally went on, and D.D. closed her eyes, not believing she hadn’t connected the dots sooner. To give herself some credit, the case was thirty years old, meaning she’d been a teenager herself at the time and not a work-obsessed detective. Still, given the notoriety . . .

“Shana Day,” D.D. stated out loud. “Your sister is Shana Day. Youngest convicted female murderer in Massachusetts, tried as an adult when she was only fourteen. Has spent the decades since picking off corrections officers and fellow inmates in the MCI. That Shana Day.” Then, another lightbulb moment: “She mutilated him, right? It’s been years since I thought about the case, but right after she strangled the kid, she worked him over with a knife. Removed an ear. And strips of skin . . .” D.D. stared at Adeline, nearly dumbfounded by the implications. “Where’s your sister now?”

“Still a resident of the MCI, where she’ll spend the rest of her life.”

“I want to speak with her. Immediately.”

“You can try. She’s currently recovering in the prison’s medical ward, however. Recovering from her latest suicide attempt.”

“What’s her condition?”