Then they moved a rug and a lamp to stage the scene.

Every new detail was another way of losing her again.

For weeks I gave statements, identified belongings, and listened to recordings no mother should ever hear. I’d come home wrung out — and then Tanya would run to hug me, and I’d remember why I had to keep going.

She started therapy with Dr. Laura Medina, a kind child psychologist. At first she only drew dark houses with no doors. Later she added bright windows.

One afternoon she drew Katherine with yellow wings and a blue dress. “My mom is looking for a way to get back to us,” she told me, pointing at it.

I kept that drawing with the final letter, the gold bracelet, and the photo of her birth.