“When Cindy was that age, she was up at six o’clock every morning. I remember it well because I was the one who was up with her. It’s kind of late for a mother not to notice her child missing.”

“Kids differ. My nephew used to sleep till nine. All of my sister’s friends were green with envy.”

“Just proves my point,” Decker said. “Most kids aren’t real late sleepers.”

“But this one could be,” Marge said.

Decker didn’t answer her.

“What else is sticking in your craw?” Marge asked.

Decker said, “I found her in a pajama sleeper, Margie. I had it bagged. It had recent blood on it.”

“A lot?”

“More than a nosebleed’s worth. And none of it looks like it came from the kid. Her body was clean except for a little rash on both her arms.”

“Blood on a pajama sleeper isn’t an everyday occurrence,” Marge admitted. “I don’t like it, either.”

There was a moment of silence. Marge broke it.

“Think her mother was whacked?”

“Maybe a suicide.” Decker shrugged. “The kid’s obviously been well cared for. No superficial signs of abuse. I figure I’ll wait until nine. If no one calls in by then, we’ll do a door-to-door search where I found her last night.”

“MacPherson said she was wandering around the new development over the quarry.”

“Yep. The newest Manfred job—a couple hundred houses. Looks like I got my work cut out for me.”

Marge said, “It’s your day off.”

“Not anymore,” Decker said. “It’s okay. I don’t mind doing my bit for this little thing. All I need is a couple of hours off in the afternoon. Do me a favor, Margie. Get the kid some juice and bread or something. She must be starved.”

“Sure,” Marge said. “Want some help canvassing the area?”

“You’ve read my mind.” Decker reached for his cigarettes, then retracted his hand. “What time is it now? Eight?”

“Quarter to.”

“I’d like to pull another hour of sleep before we begin talking to the good folk, if you don’t mind.”

“Go ahead. Maybe the situation will resolve itself with a frantic phone call.”

“I sure as hell hope so. But I’m not overly optimistic.”

“Want me to punch her description into the computer?” Marge asked.

“That’s a little premature,” Decker said. “Go ahead and snap Polaroids of her for ID purposes. And if you get a chance, print her feet, also. Maybe they will match some hospital newborn file.”

“Want me to call IDC?”

Decker frowned. “Yeah, I guess someone should. If no one claims her, we’re going to have to take her somewhere.”

“I’ll call up Richard Lui at MacClaren Hall. He’s a nice guy with primo connections to the good foster homes. Did I ever tell you I went out with him?”

“Was this before or after Carroll?”