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“Do you feel you need a lawyer?”

“He’s not just a lawyer.” She snapped it, then pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. “I have a headache. I’m trying to rest before I need to pick up my daughter.”

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but we have questions that require answers.” Eve took aim and pushed the weak spot. “If you feel the need to contact your husband, why don’t you suggest he meet the three of us down at Central? We’ll make this formal.”

“That sounds almost threatening.”

“The three of us here, the four of us there. Take it any way you like.”

“Oh, come in then. Get it over with. You police have a way of making victims feel like criminals.”

She stalked into the living area and, in a gesture very similar to the sulky Melodie’s, dropped into a chair. “What do you want?”

“We have reason to believe there was an item taken off the premises prior to the execution of the search that may be germane to the investigation.”

“That’s ridiculous. Nothing was taken out of the house, and nothing that was ever in it is germane to your investigation.”

“Your daughter removed her diary.”

“I beg your pardon?” Allika sat up now, and there was a ripple, just the faintest ripple, of fear in her voice. “What does Rayleen’s diary have to do with anything?”

“She removed it prior to the search, and has since taken possession of it again. Do you know where it is?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Have you read it?”

“No, I haven’t. We respect each other’s privacy in this house.”

“We need to see the diary, Mrs. Straffo.”

“What’s wrong with you? How can you accuse a child of something so horrible?”

“I haven’t accused Rayleen of anything. What do you think she did? What do you think she’s capable of doing, Allika?” Eve leaned forward. “What has you sick, and sleepless, and scared?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know what you mean.” Her fingers began to pleat the skirt of her robe. “You have to stop this. You have to stop it.”

“I’m going to stop it. I’m going to stop her. You know this can’t go on.”

“You need to go. I want you to leave now.”

Eve pressed down hard on the next weak spot. “Why do you keep all your son’s pictures hidden away? Why do you hide a piece of his blanket, his little toy dog, all of those parts of him? Why is that, Allika?”

“He was my baby. He was my boy.” Tears gushed now.

“But you don’t have pictures of your baby, you don’t have memories of your boy sitting out, in the open. Why is that?”

“It’s painful. It’s upsetting to…”

“To Rayleen. She doesn’t like it, does she? Doesn’t like you or Oliver looking at pictures of another child. It needs to be about her, only her. She never liked sharing the attention, did she?”

“It’s natural, it’s perfectly natural for a first child to be jealous of a new baby. To have a period of adjustment. Sibling—sibling rivalry.”

“It was more than that, wasn’t it? Then she finally did something about it, on that Christmas Eve. Why should she have to share those toys? Why should he get your time, when she was first. So she got him out of bed, she led him to the top of the stairs. Didn’t she?”

“It was an accident.” Allika covered her face with her hands, rocked. “It was an accident. She was asleep. We were all asleep. Oh, God, please, don’t do this.”

“No, she wasn’t asleep. You know she wasn’t.”

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