Bordain sighed. “I hope so, for her sake. Poor little thing.”

“If she remembers and can give us a name or a clue,” Mendez said, “we can catch Ms. Fordham’s killer. Isn’t that what you want?”

“Of course, but Haley is only four years old. Would she have to testify in court? Is a four-year-old child considered a credible witness?”

“I had a case in LA County years ago,” Dixon said. “A triple homicide—a mother and two children. The only person left alive was a twenty-two-month-old baby.

“The killers let him live because they didn’t think he was able to talk,” he said. “Turned out they were wrong. He was perfectly able to speak, he just didn’t speak to strangers.

“He had heard their names. He had seen the whole thing go down. He didn’t testify in court. We had to corroborate what he told us through a third party. But that baby solved the crime. Haley could do the same thing.”

“And be traumatized all over again,” Bordain said. “She’ll never be normal. People will always look at her as the girl whose mother was murdered, the girl who was left for dead. She’ll have to live with this for the rest of her life.”

“Anne Leone will help her through it,” Dixon said.

Bordain frowned. “I don’t like that woman. She’s very bossy and manipulative.”

“I know Anne quite well,” Dixon said. “She’s a fierce advocate for children. Haley couldn’t be in better hands.”

“She would be in good hands here,” Bordain argued, “and be with people she knows.”

“Mrs. Bordain,” Mendez jumped in. “How did you meet Ms. Fordham?”

She huffed a sigh, not happy to let go of the subject of Haley.

“I met Marissa at the art fair in ’82,” she said at last. “I was one of the judges. I thought her work was extraordinary. So luminous, so full of joy.”

“And you decided to sponsor her? Just like that?”

“I have an eye for talent,” she said. “I introduced Marissa to the people from the Acorn Gallery. They agreed to represent her art here and at their gallery in Montecito. I persuaded Marissa to put down roots here. Haley was just a baby. They needed a home.”

“You own the property she lived on,” Dixon said.

“Yes. I lived in that house while this one was being built. My husband couldn’t understand why I didn’t just stay at the house in Montecito and drive back and forth. He, of all people, should know you can’t leave these contractors for a minute. Nothing would be right if I hadn’t been here to watch them like a hawk.”

“How long ago was that?” Mendez asked.

“I lived in that house most of 1981 and half of ’82. Of course this one wasn’t finished when they said it would be.”