They photographed the girl’s bruises, collected her torn shoes and hair ribbon, and logged them in small plastic bags. Every step was careful, reverent, not wanting to destroy any evidence by mistake. “We’ll run her prints,” the senior detective said. “See if she matches any missing person reports.” Elena hoped they would, and soon.
When they asked if anyone recognized her, the nurses shook their heads. “No regular patients her age,” Connie said. “No local match.” The detective sighed, writing something Elena couldn’t see. The girl’s hand twitched once in her sleep, startling everyone. Valorian’s ears perked instantly, nose pressing to the glass.