One of them went straight to Livia, down on one knee, warm and unhurried, talking to her in the low friendly voice good medics use with frightened kids.

The other crouched by Junia and asked her careful questions — what she’d seen, when, whether her sister had eaten, how long ago the drowsiness had started.

And Junia, steady as a small witness, answered every single one.

She did not embellish and she did not guess.

When she didn’t know a thing, she said she didn’t know.

Cordell, listening, thought he had taken statements from grown adults half as clear.