“What time are we in court Monday?” I asked.

“Nine a.m., Courtroom 3B,” Marcus said.

“Detective Mitchell said she might have news for us before then.”

I hung up and set the phone on the little wooden table in the hall.

The house was perfectly quiet apart from the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen.

Emma put the wooden doll back in the tiny painted bedroom of the dollhouse.

“Mommy,” Emma said softly, looking up from the rug.