“Her hands were purple when Mary found her.”

Trevor stepped out onto the porch, drawing the heavy oak door nearly closed behind him.

His face wore the same smooth, untroubled look he put on whenever a subcontractor threatened to walk off a job.

“She was having a tantrum because Colleen told her to put her shoes away,” he said.

“She walked out to the garage on her own to sulk.”

“She told me you’re the one who locked the deadbolt behind her,” I said.