“In late October.”

“They packed for her,” I said.

I touched a folded pair of yellow shorts.

They were incredibly soft and smelled exactly like the harsh floral detergent Patricia used at her house.

“They meant to take her with them at first,” I said.

“Then why did they leave her alone on the couch?” Marcus asked, clicking his silver pen twice.

I looked at the small pile of toddler clothes.

Patricia had carefully folded every single shirt.