Ms. Cooper crouched to her level, voice softened to match the child’s silence. “Lila, do you remember that night?” she asked. The girl nodded, her small hands folded neatly in her lap.
“Did you see Jacob Wells?” Cooper asked next. Lila nodded again—two fingers raised like a signal rehearsed countless times. “Yes,” Cooper translated for the record, “before lights-out.” The rhythm between them was gentle, practiced, human.