Officer Vance checked the height of the outer slide latch against his own knee.

“That latch sits forty-two inches off the ground,” Officer Vance said.

“A five-year-old can’t reach this bar from inside the pen.”

He picked up the rusty length of chain lying on the wet grass.

“The medical findings together with this physical latch make an unusually strong case,” he said.

A yellow taxi backed into the driveway behind his cruiser.

Jaclyn came down the porch steps carrying two plastic bags, her face dark with fury.

She dragged her two black suitcases across the wet grass, leaving a pair of muddy tracks behind her.