“Do you know how much those things cost? And they’re never no good. Blinking or scowling. You get the worst of the kid, you really do. I just gave up on them.”

She had pictures of me. A bunch on the same sheet. They were in an envelope upstairs.

“Anything at all to help us?”

I tugged at Gloria’s sleeve. She bent down. “Yes, Bids?”

“He got a class one,” I whispered. Everyone got a group photo for free, and Rowan gave his to me. He said he didn’t like seeing himself in a picture.

“Yes, yes. You’ve got such a memory. Go and grab that, will you, darling?”

I ran up to my room. I found it right away because it was in my night table, hidden under my book Mrs. Spooner gave me for passing the year. Mrs. Spooner didn’t have no children, so she was extra nice to me and Rowan. It was not for my grade, she said, but she thought I could do it if I tried a page at a time. I only read a bit of it though. When I knew the dad was going to kill that baby pig with an ax, I folded the page and put it away.

The policeman looked at it. He brought the tiny picture close to his face. He scritched Rowan’s face with his fingernail. “Is that a water stain on the print or—or does your son have vitiligo?”

“Viti-what?”

“Loss of pigment. Leaves white blotches on otherwise healthy skin. I have a cousin with the same condition.”

“Yes, yes. Something like that. It’ll grow back, though. Even out. Just needs to get more fresh air.”

“Must be tough on the boy.” The end of his mustache went into his mouth. He nibbled at it. “Well, we’ll get that information out there. I think we can enlarge this.”

“And what was he wearing last?” said the tie man.

“Maisy-Bids? Do you remember?”

What was Rowan wearing? I remembered him outside, water bouncing off him and raindrops pushing down on his hair and his T-shirt and his shorts. He made those shorts from an old pair of blue jeans. In my head I brought him back inside. I dried him off. I put him in Telly’s chair and I put the soda in his hand. He took my glass and gave me his because he said I could have the bigger one, like Carl did with Girl and the wiener. That was being nice, Rowan said. And I put my head against his shoulder and laughed. Then I had to squeeze up my eyes because the tiger was eating another squirrel.

“Maisy?” The tie man said my name.

“She does that,” Gloria said. “Drifts off.”

“That’s okay, Maisy. I drift off too sometimes. Can you remember what your brother was wearing?”