“Anne Leone,” she said, holding out her hand. “I’m a court-appointed special advocate. Detective Mendez asked me to come.”

That sounded very official, at least, she thought, even though there was nothing official about it. They were circumventing protocol in about eight different ways. There was no one from Child Services present. Anne had not been assigned to Haley Fordham’s case. She hadn’t spoken to her supervisor to apprise her of the situation. She didn’t know if relatives had been notified. The list went on. But in her heart her only concern was for the terrified child in the bed.

“Dr. Silver,” he said, clipping his pen to the chart and shaking her hand.

“Why are you letting her scream like this?” she asked. “Isn’t there something you can give her to help her calm down?”

“She’s just coming out of a coma. She hasn’t responded to anyone. It’s as if we aren’t here. This sometimes happens with brain injury patients,” he explained. “She probably doesn’t even realize she’s doing it.”

Anne looked from the doctor to the child and back. “I’m sorry,” she said calmly. “You’re an idiot.”

She didn’t bother to care that Dr. Silver was offended. She didn’t bother to introduce herself to the well-dressed older woman standing frozen in shock along the wall. She went alongside the bed to the head of it, where Haley Fordham was curled into a ball, shrieking.

“Haley?” she said softly, reaching her hand out to the little girl. “Haley, sweetheart, you’re all right. I know you’re scared. You don’t need to be afraid, honey. We’re all here to help you.”

Still screaming, the child looked up at her. Her eyes were entirely bloodred, petechial hemorrhages filling the whites of her eyes around the dark iris and pupils. It was a result of the strangulation, but even knowing that, Anne was startled at the sight.

“It’s okay,” Anne murmured, brushing the girl’s damp dark curls back from her forehead. “It’s okay, Haley. You’re not alone. I’m here for you.”

The screams subsided as the little girl looked up at her. Her breath caught and hiccupped and stuttered in her throat. She was trembling, dressed only in a flimsy hospital gown. White tape held an IV catheter in place in her tiny arm.

The bruises on her throat were purple. Anne felt her own throat tighten. She knew exactly how it felt to be choked, to look up into the face of the person trying to take her life away from her. Had Haley known the person doing that to her? How confused and terrified she must have been.

Her mother had to have been dead by then. No mother would have stood by and allowed someone to harm her child this way, no matter how dire the circumstances. Haley had been all alone with her killer.