“Sophie loved school. First grade. Mrs. DiPace. She’d just started reading all the Junie B. Jones novels with a little help. I mean reading, just like that. She’s a bright child. And a good girl, too. I can … I can get you the principal’s name, teachers, I have the whole school list since I dropped her off half the time. Everyone only ever has wonderful things to say about her, and oh my, just …”

Mrs. Ennis was out of her seat, walking in a tight circle before she seemed to remember what she needed to do. She crossed to a little end table next to the sofa, opened the top drawer, and started pulling out information.

“What about after-school activities?” D.D. asked.

“They had an after-school art program. Every Monday. Sophie loved that.”

“Parents volunteer as part of that?” Bobby probed.

D.D. nodded, following his train of thought. Parents who they could grind through more background checks.

Mrs. Ennis returned to them, holding several pieces of paper—a school calendar, contact information for administrative personnel, a phone tree of other parents to notify in the event of snow days.

“Can you think of anyone who might want to harm Sophie?” D.D. asked as gently as she could.

Mrs. Ennis shook her head, her face still stricken.

“If she ran away, can you think of where she’d hide?”

“In the tree,” Mrs. Ennis said immediately. “When she wanted time alone, she always climbed the big oak in the backyard. Tessa said she used to do the same thing as a child.”

Bobby and D.D. nodded. They had both studied the bare limbed tree. Six-year-old Sophie had not been perched among the branches.

“How do you get to the house?” D.D. thought to ask, as she and Bobby rose out of their chairs.

“The bus.”

“Has Sophie ever ridden it with you? Does she understand mass transit?”

“We have been on the bus. I don’t think she would know how.…” Mrs. Ennis paused, her dark eyes brightening. “But she does know her coins. The last few times we rode, she counted out the money. And she’s very adventurous. If she thought she needed to get on the bus for some reason, I could see her trying it alone.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Ennis. If you think of anything else …” D.D. handed the woman her card.

Bobby had opened the door. At the last moment, just as D.D. was exiting into the hall, Bobby turned back.

“You said another officer introduced Tessa and Brian. Do you remember who that was?”

“Oh, it was at a cookout.…” Mrs. Ennis paused, searched her memory banks. “Shane. That’s what Tessa called him. She’d gone to Shane’s house.”

Bobby thanked the woman, then followed D.D. down the stairs.

“Who’s Shane?” D.D. asked, the moment they were outside, puffing out frosty breaths of air and tugging on their gloves.