“She doesn’t have a great grip on reality,” he says, and then adds, “which is difficult to tell sometimes in a child so young. We’ll run a full psychiatric evaluation tomorrow,” he says, “in addition to some further physical testing. She would not let us do a pelvic.”

Kateri’s eyes narrow. “Is there something that makes you think that’s necessary?”

“Well, if you want to rule out sexual assault by an invader,” he says, as if Kateri ought to know.

“I don’t know that there was an invader,” Kateri says, “and if there was, I don’t know that the crime was sexually motivated. And what do you mean, she wouldn’t let you, if you’d sedated her and she has, as you said, a poor grip on reality?”

“She bit a nurse.”

He’s still in his twenties, she thinks. Gingery, with a face that will always look younger than his age. She tries to imagine him someplace else, out at a bar, running. He is attractive, and that annoys her further.

“We tried,” he says. “But she thrashed. If she was assaulted, we are required by law to do a rape kit.”

“I’ll decide that,” Kateri says. “In the meantime, wait until it’s requested. It’s invasive. I don’t know that it’s necessary.”

“Well, it’s evidence,” the attending says. “And I would think that anyone who fought the kit that hard had likely been assaulted. It’s not like she didn’t know what we were examining or looking for.”

Kateri looks at her fingernails and not at the doctor. “Could be,” she says, and then shrugs. “She’s what, five? She may have been taught to fiercely guard her privates. She doesn’t know you. You’re a strange man to her.” Kateri’s lips are tight when she looks up at him. “All your rape kit proves,” she says, “is penetration within the last forty-eight hours. And nothing else if there’s no semen left behind. I’d like to speak with her.”

“We’re going to need ID and parental or state consent,” he says. “Who did she say she was?”

“Her name is Birdie.”

“That’s a pet name,” the doctor says.

“You don’t know that,” Kateri says.

“Her mother?” He asks.

“Is likely dead,” Kateri answers.

“Is there a guardian?”

“None specified,” Kateri says. “This is an active investigation.”

“I understand, Detective.” He looks off down the hall, low lit, where people walk by in pairs or push carts and announcements come on overhead. In a Catholic hospital like Mercy, the day begins and ends with a recitation of the Lord’s Prayer. “I sent her clothing to the lab as you requested,” he says.

“Thank you.”

He looks quick over his shoulder and then says, “Can I ask you something?”

Kateri crosses her arms over her chest. “Of course,” she says.

“Do you think she’s responsible?”

“For what?” Kateri asks, her eyes suddenly wide.

“The murder,” he says.

“Why would you think that?”

“Detective,” he says. “She was covered in blood. She was very close to the crime. Very close,” he says again.