“Very good. If I told you those chairs were blue, would I be telling the truth or would I be telling a lie?”

“Nooo! The chairs are red!”

“That’s right. And we only tell the truth in the magic room, don’t we?”

Ree nodded, but D.D. could read the tension in the child’s body again. Marianne was circling around. Circling, circling, circling.

“Did you stay in bed, Ree? Or did you maybe get up to check on your mommy or go potty or do anything else?”

The girl shook her head, but she did not look at Marianne anymore.

“What does your mom do after you go to bed, Ree?” Marianne asked softly.

“She has to do her schoolwork. Grade papers.” The girl’s gaze slid up. “At least, I think so.”

“Do you ever hear noises downstairs, maybe the TV, or the radio, or the sound of your mother’s footsteps, or something else?”

“I heard the tea kettle,” Ree whispered.

“You heard the tea kettle?”

“It whistled. On the stove. Mommy likes tea. Sometimes we have tea parties and she makes me real apple tea. I like apple tea.” The girl was still talking, but her voice had changed. She sounded subdued, a shadow of her former self.

D.D. eyed Jason Jones, still standing against the far wall. He had not moved, but there was a starkness to his expression now. Oh yeah, they were homing in.

“Ree, after the tea kettle, what did you hear?”

“Footsteps.”

“Footsteps?”

“Yeah. But they didn’t sound right. They were loud. Angry. Angry feet on the stairs. Uh-oh,” the girl singsonged. “Uh-oh, Daddy’s mad.”

Behind D.D., Jason flinched for the second time. She saw him close his eyes, swallow, but he still didn’t say a word.

In the interrogation room, Marianne was equally quiet. She let the silence draw out until abruptly, Ree began speaking again, her body rocking back and forth, her hands rubbing, rubbing her stuffed toy’s ears:

“Something crashed. Broke. I heard it, but I didn’t get out of bed. I didn’t want to get out of bed. Mr. Smith did. He jumped off the bed. He stood by the door but I didn’t want to get out of bed. I held Lil’ Bunny. I told her to be very quiet. We must be quiet.”

The girl paused for an instant, then spoke suddenly in a soft, higher-pitched voice: “Please don’t do this.” She sounded mournful. “Please don’t do this. I won’t tell. You can believe me. I’ll never tell. I love you. I still love you …”