Yes, it was harder when it was a child. It was hard to take such a small hand in yours. Such a small, lifeless hand, to look down at the young who'd been robbed of so many years, and all the joys, all the pains that went in them.

She pressed the fingers to the pad, waited for the readout.

“Officer Grimes, Lieutenant,” Peabody said from the doorway. “First on scene.”

“Who called this in, Grimes?” Eve asked without turning around.

“Sir, unidentified female.”

“And where is this unidentified female?”

“I… Lieutenant, I assumed it was one of the vies.”

She glanced back now, and Grimes saw the tall, lean woman in mannish trousers, a battered leather jacket. The cool brown eyes, flat cop's eyes, in a sharply featured face. Her hair was brown, like her eyes, short, choppy rather than sleek.

She had a rep, and when that icy gaze pinned him, he knew she'd earned it.

“So our nine-one-one calls in murder, then hops into bed so she can get her throat slashed?”

“Ah…” He was a beat cop, with two years under his belt. He wasn't ranking Homicide. “The kid here might've called it, Lieutenant, then tried to hide in bed.”

“How long you had a badge, Grimes?”

“Two years-in January, Lieutenant.”

“I know civilians who've got a better sense of crime scene than you. Fifth victim, identified as Linnie Dyson, age nine, who is not a fucking resident of this fucking address. Who is not one Nixie Swisher. Peabody, start a search of the residence. We're looking for another nine-year-old girl, living or dead. Grimes, you idiot, call in an Amber Alert. She may have been the reason for this. Possible abduction. Move!”

Peabody snagged a can of Seal-It out of her own kit, hurriedly sprayed her shoes and hands.

“She could be hiding. If the kid called it in, Dallas, she could be hiding. She could be afraid to come out, or she's in shock. She could be alive.”