“We’re going to look at some pictures,” Vince said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I’m going to put them down on the bed, then you’re going to look at them and tell us if you know any of the people in the pictures.”

Haley got on her knees and leaned sideways into Anne, chewing on the tip of her index finger as Vince laid the pictures out.

Anne watched her face carefully, looking for any nuance of expression that might indicate recognition.

Haley reached out a finger. Anne held her breath.

“That’s Zander,” Haley said, pointing at the wide-eyed math genius with his wild cloud of gray hair. She looked up at Vince and crinkled her nose. “Isn’t he weird?”

“He looks kind of funny in this picture, doesn’t he?” Vince said. “Do you know anybody else here?”

Haley studied the pictures one by one. With the exception of Steve Morgan, Anne only knew who they were because Vince had told her. The head of the music department at McAster. An architect. Steve Morgan’s law partner.

Darren Bordain in a photo from a magazine—a shot of him and his mother dressed to the nines at a charity function. He was almost a carbon copy of Milo.

Steve Morgan, handsome, dressed for golf, a wide white grin splitting his features. It was hard for Anne to look at him so happy when she knew he was making Sara and Wendy miserable with his bad behavior. Here he was in a lineup as, at best, a man who cheated on his wife, and at worst a murder suspect.

Haley looked at all of them very carefully. Anne held her breath. Vince was holding his breath and watching the little girl’s reactions as carefully as Anne was.

Finally, Haley looked up and smiled like a pixie. “These are all my daddies!”

She proceeded to point to each face and name them.

“Daddy Mark and Daddy Don and Daddy Bob and Daddy Steve and Daddy Milo and Daddy Darren and Zander.”

“Daddy Zander?” Vince asked.

Haley shook her head. “Just Zander.”

Anne felt limp with relief. As much as the detectives needed a positive ID, she couldn’t help but be glad Haley hadn’t looked at these men and seen the face of the person who had choked and smothered her.

“Do you see Bad Daddy?” Vince asked.

Haley ignored him and turned instead to Anne. “Mommy Anne, will you read me a story?”

“Sure, sweetheart. In a few minutes. You get under the covers and I’ll be back before you know it.”

“You won’t turn the lights off?”

“Nope. I won’t turn the lights off.”

“Bad Daddy comes when the lights are off.”

“Bad Daddy can’t come here,” Anne said, gathering the pictures back up off the bed.

She followed Vince into the hall, pulling Haley’s door only partially closed.