Paul crouched far enough away not to crowd them.

He kept his hands open, palms visible, and asked Nora to tell him exactly what had happened, without guessing and without using words anyone else had given her.

Nora looked down at her right sneaker.

Then she sat on the linoleum floor, pulled off her shoe, and peeled back the loose, worn insole.

An empty oral medicine syringe slid into her small palm.

She had hidden it there because, in her words, “Daddy checks our pockets.”

Paul felt an immediate spike of adrenaline, but he kept his face completely neutral and his voice level.

He asked whether the syringe had a needle.

Nora said no.

He asked whether anything remained inside.

She said she did not know.

He did not touch the plastic with his bare hands.

Instead, he laid a clean evidence envelope on the counter, asked Nora to place the syringe inside, and wrote the exact time on the paper flap: 4:17 p.m.

Then he picked up the desk line and called for an ambulance.