“Find anything up there?” she asked.

“Not really. I took some pictures and collected these.” Noomis held up an evidence baggie containing dirt with one hand and another baggie with chips of bark in the other.

“What for?” she asked.

“I smelled urine on the base of a tree. So I took a sample of the bark and dirt for the DNA.”

“How do you know it’s human pee and not animal pee?”

“They smell different.”

He started to bring the bags to her to sniff but she shooed him away. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Duncan got out of the SUV and pocketed his phone. “We’ve got a warrant.”

Eve, Duncan, and the CSU techs put Tyvek shoe covers over their footwear and rubber gloves on their hands.

Nan Baker, the large African American woman in her forties who led the CSU, pulled the hood of her Tyvek suit over her hair, picked up her bag, and led the way down the paper carpet like a general going into battle.

Eve went into the kitchen more slowly this time, paying closer attention to the details she missed on her first visit. The kitchen hadn’t been updated in twenty years. The appliances were old and the countertops were granite tiles. She noticed an array of magnets on the front of the refrigerator. The magnets were from Domino’s, Mr. Plunger, a gardener, and other restaurants and services and held artwork by the kids, a school calendar, and discount coupons. A CSU tech stationed himself in the kitchen and began taking pictures of the blood.

There was a purse on the floor that looked as if it had been dropped. Some of the contents—a roll of lip balm and a tiny bottle of Purell—had spilled out. Eve crouched beside the purse and used her pen to peek inside.

“No cell phone. No house keys.” She teased out a key chain with a Ford logo from the purse and dangled it on the end of her pen. “But the car keys are here.”

The CSU tech held out an open baggie to Eve. “Saves us the trouble of breaking into her car.”

Eve dropped the keys in the bag, stood up, and followed Duncan into the living room.

Another CSU tech was photographing everything. Duncan stopped and stared at the puddle of blood and the backpacks and she knew what he was thinking: the children were either gravely injured or dead.

Eve went to Caitlin’s room and found Nan leaning close to a row of Barbie dolls that sat on the edge of a shelf, their legs crossed, blood spattered on their happy plastic faces.

“What’s your initial impression?” Eve asked.

Nan straightened up and answered without looking at her. “People died here.”

“How many?”

“Certainly more than one, based on the amount of blood I can see, particularly the spatter patterns on the walls, indicating blunt force trauma or arterial spray, and multiple, deep saturation stains on the carpets indicating catastrophic blood loss. Come back in a few hours and ask me again.” Nan looked at her now. “We’re going to be here processing this scene for a long time.”