A laundry basket occupied the single dark green sofa. Juliana flushed, then lowered the plastic bin to the floor without ever releasing her grip on her baby. When she finally sat, she perched on the edge of the cushion, her child held in the middle of her lap as the first line of defense.

D.D. sat on the other end of the sofa. She regarded the drooling baby. The drooling baby stared back at her, then shoved its whole fist in its mouth and made a sound that might have been “Gaa.”

“Cute,” D.D. said, in a voice that was clearly skeptical. “How old?”

“Nathaniel is nine months.”

“Boy.”

“Yes.”

“Walking?”

“Just learned to crawl,” Juliana said proudly.

“Good boy,” D.D. said, and that quickly was out of baby prattle. Good Lord, how was she ever going to be a mom, when she couldn’t even talk to one?

“Do you have a job?” D.D. asked.

“Yes,” Juliana said proudly, “I’m raising my child.”

D.D. accepted that answer, moved on. “So,” she announced curtly. “I imagine you’ve seen the news. The missing girl in Allston-Brighton.”

Juliana regarded her blankly. “What?”

“The Amber Alert? Six-year-old Sophie Leoni, missing from her home in Allston-Brighton?”

Juliana frowned, held her baby a little closer. “What does that have to do with me? I don’t know any child from Allston-Brighton. I live in Arlington.”

“When was the last time you saw Tessa Leoni?” D.D. asked.

Juliana’s reaction was immediate. She stiffened and looked away from D.D., her blue gaze dropping to the hardwood floor. A square block with the letter “E” and a picture of an elephant was by her slippered foot. She retrieved the block and offered it to the baby, who took it from her, then tried to cram the whole thing in his mouth.

“He’s teething,” she murmured absently, stroking her child’s red-flushed cheek. “Poor little guy hasn’t slept in nights, and whimpers to be held all day long. I know all babies go through it, but I didn’t think it would be so hard. Seeing my own child in pain. Knowing there’s nothing I can do but wait.”

D.D. didn’t say anything.

“Sometimes, at night, when he’s crying, I rock and cry with him. I know it sounds corny, but it seems to help him. Maybe no one, not even babies, likes to cry alone.”

D.D. didn’t say anything.

“Oh my God,” Juliana MacDougall exclaimed abruptly. “Sophie Leoni. Sophia Leoni. She’s Tessa’s daughter. Tessa had a little girl. Oh. My. God.”

Then Juliana Howe shut up completely, just sitting there with her baby boy, who was still chewing the wooden block.

“What did you see that night?” D.D. asked the young mother gently. No need to define which night. Most likely, Juliana’s entire life circled back to that one moment in time.

“I didn’t. Not really. I was half asleep, heard a noise, came downstairs. Tessa and Tommy… They were on the couch. Then there was a noise, and Tommy stood up, kind of stepped back, then fell down. Then Tessa stood up, saw me, and started crying. She held out her hand, and she was holding a gun. That was the first thing I really noticed. Tessa had a gun. The rest sunk in from there.”

“What did you do?”

Juliana was quiet. “It’s been a long time.”

D.D. waited.

“I don’t understand. Why these questions now? I told everything to the police. Last I knew, it was an open- and-shut case. Tommy had a reputation… The detective said Tessa wasn’t the first girl he’d hurt.”

“What do you think?”

Juliana shrugged. “He was my brother,” she whispered. “Honestly, I try not to think about it.”

“Did you believe Tessa that night? That your friend was protecting herself?”

“I don’t know.”

“She ever show any interest in Tommy before? Ask about his schedule? Bat her eyelashes in his direction?”

Juliana shook her head, still not looking at D.D.

“But you never spoke to her afterward. You cast her out. Like her father.”

Now Juliana flushed. Her grip tightened on her baby. He whimpered and immediately she let go.

“Something was wrong with Tommy,” she said abruptly.

D.D. waited.

“My parents couldn’t see it. But he was… mean. If he wanted something, he took it. Even when we were little, if I had a toy and he wanted that toy…” She shrugged again. “He’d break something, rather than let me keep it. My father would say boys will be boys, and let it go. But I learned. Tommy wanted what he wanted and you didn’t get in his way.”

“You think he attacked Tessa.”

“I think when Detective Walthers told us other girls had called about Tommy, I wasn’t surprised. My parents were horrified. My father… he still doesn’t believe. But I could. Tommy wanted what he wanted and you didn’t get in his way.”

“Did you ever tell that to Tessa?”

“I haven’t spoken to Tessa Leoni in ten years.”

“Why not?”

“Because.” The ubiquitous shrug again. “Tommy wasn’t just my brother-he was my parents’ son. And when he died… My parents burned up their savings on Tommy’s funeral. Then, when my father couldn’t go back to work, we lost our house. My parents had to declare bankruptcy. Eventually, they divorced. My mother and I moved in with my aunt. My father had a nervous breakdown. He lives in an institution, where he spends his days going through Tommy’s scrapbook. He can’t get over it. He just can’t. The world is a terrible place, where your child can be killed and the police cover it up.”

Juliana stroked her own baby’s cheek. “It’s funny,” she murmured. “I used to think my family was perfect. That’s even what Tessa loved best about me. I came from this great family, not like her family at all. Then, in one night, we turned into them. It wasn’t just that I lost my brother, but that my parents lost their son.”

“She ever try to contact you?”

“The last words I spoke to Tessa Leoni were, ‘You need to go home right now!’ And that’s what she did. She took her gun and she ran out of my house.”

“What about seeing her around the neighborhood?”

“Her father kicked her out. Then she was no longer around the neighborhood.”

“You never wondered about her? Never worried about your best friend in the whole wide world, who had to fight off your own brother? You invited her over that night. According to her initial statement, Tessa had asked if Tommy would be home for the evening.”

“I don’t remember.”

“Did you tell Tommy she was coming?”

Juliana’s lips thinned. Abruptly, she set the baby on the floor, stood up. “You should go now, Detective. I haven’t spoken to Tessa in ten years. I didn’t know she had a daughter, and I certainly don’t know where she is.”

But D.D. stayed put, sitting on the edge of the sofa, peering up at Tessa’s former best friend.

“Why did you leave Tessa in the family room that night?” D.D. pushed. “If it was a sleepover, why didn’t you rouse your best friend to come up to your room? What did Tommy tell you to do?”

“Stop it!”

“You suspected, didn’t you? You knew what he was up to, and that’s why you came downstairs. You feared your brother, you worried about your friend. Did you warn Tessa, Juliana? Is that why she brought the gun?”

“No!”

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