Per protocol, the crime-scene techs had sprayed Sophie Leoni’s sheets with luminol, which reacted with bodily fluids such as blood and semen. The lack of hits meant the sheets were clean. Which didn’t mean Sophie Leoni had never been sexually assaulted; just meant she hadn’t been recently assaulted on this set of linens. The crime-scene techs would also check the laundry, even pull bedding out of the washing machine if necessary. Unless someone knew to clean all items in bleach, it was amazing what the luminol could find on “clean” linens.

More things D.D. didn’t want to know while standing in the middle of a magical garden.

She wondered who had painted this room. Tessa? Brian? Or maybe the three of them working together back in the days when the love was still new and the family felt fresh and committed to one another.

She wondered just how many nights had passed before Sophie woke up to the first sound of a distinct smack, a muffled scream. Or maybe Sophie hadn’t been sleeping at all. Maybe she’d been sitting at the kitchen table, or playing with a doll in the corner.

Maybe she’d run to her mother the first time. Maybe …

Ah, Jesus Christ. D.D. did not want to be working this case right now.

She fisted her hands, turned toward the window, and focused on the weak March daylight.

Bobby had stilled next to the wall. He was studying her, but didn’t say a word.

Once more, she was grateful.

“We should find out if there’s a favorite snuggle toy,” she said at last.

“Rag doll. Green dress, brown yarn hair, blue button eyes. Named Gertrude.”

D.D. nodded, scanning the room slowly. She identified a nightlight—Sophie’s terrified of the dark—but no snuggle toy. “I don’t see it.”

“Neither did the first responder. So far, we’re operating under the assumption the doll is missing, too.”

“Her pajamas?”

“Trooper Leoni said her daughter was wearing a long-sleeved set, pink with yellow horses. No sign of them.”

D.D. had a thought. “What about her coat, hat, and snow boots?”

“Don’t have that in my notes.”

For the first time, D.D. felt a glimmer of hope. “Missing coat and hat means she was roused out of bed in the middle of the night. Not given the time to change, but the chance to bundle up.”

“No need to bundle up a corpse,” Bobby remarked.

They left the room and pounded down the stairs. Inspected the coat closet, then the bin of shoes and winter accessories tucked by the front door. No little kid coat. No little kid hat. No little kid boots.

“Sophie Leoni was bundled up!” D.D. declared triumphantly.

“Sophie Leoni left the house alive.”

“Perfect. Now, all we gotta do is find her before nightfall.”