“On that.”

Eve strode to the closet, searched through it, pushed into any area of the room where a child might hide. She started out, moving toward the boy's room, then checked herself.

You were a little girl, with what seemed to be a nice family. Where did you go when things got bad?

Somewhere, Eve thought, she herself never had to go. Because when things got bad for her, the family was the cause.

But she bypassed the other rooms and walked back into the master bedroom.

“Nixie,” she said quietly, as her eyes scanned. “I'm Lieutenant Dallas, with the police. I'm here to help you. You call the police, Nixie?”

Abduction, she thought again. But why slaughter an entire household to snatch a little girl? Easier to boost her off the street somewhere, even to come in, tranq her, carry her out. More likely they'd found her trying to hide, and she'd be curled up somewhere, dead as the rest.

She called for lights, full, and saw the smears of blood on the carpet on the far side of the bed. A small, bloody handprint, another, and a trail of red leading to the master bath.

Didn't have to be the kid's blood. More likely the parents. More likely, but there was a hell of a lot of it. Crawled through the blood, Eve thought.

The tub was big and sexy, double sinks in a long peachy-colored counter, and a little closet-type deal for the toilet.

A smudged and bloody swath stained the pretty pastel floor tiles.

“Goddamn it,” Eve mumbled, and followed the trail toward the thick, green glass walls of a shower station.

She expected to find the bloodied body of a small dead girl.

Instead she found the trembling form of a live one.

There was blood on her hands, on her nightshirt, on her face.

For a moment, one hideous moment, Eve stared at the child and saw herself. Blood on her hands, her shirt, her face, huddled in a freezing room. For that moment, she saw the knife, still dripping, in her hand, and the body-the man-she'd hacked to pieces lying on the floor.

“Jesus. Oh Jesus.” She took a stumbling step back, primed to run, to scream. And the child lifted her head, locked glassy eyes on hers, and whimpered.

She came back, hard, as if someone had slapped her. Not me, she told herself as she fought to get her breathing under control. Nothing like me.

Nixie Swisher. She has a name. Nixie Swisher.

“Nixie Swisher.” Eve said it out loud, and felt herself settle. The kid was alive, and there was a job to do.

One quick survey told Eve none of the blood was the child's.

Even with the punch of relief, the stiffening of spine, she wished for Peabody. Kids weren't her strong suit.

“Hey.” She crouched, carefully tapped the badge she'd hooked to her waistband with a finger that was nearly steady now. “I'm Dallas. I'm a cop. You called us, Nixie.”

The child's eyes were wide and glazed. Her teeth chattered.

“I need you to come with me, so I can help you.” She reached out a hand, but the girl cringed back and made a sound like a trapped animal.

Know how you feel, kid. Just how.

“You don't have to be afraid. Nobody's going to hurt you.” Keeping one hand up, she reached in her pocket with the other for her communicator. “ Peabody, I've got her. Master bath. Get up here.”

Wracking her brain, Eve tried to think of the right approach. “You called us, Nixie. That was smart, that was brave. I know you're scared, but we're going to take care of you.”

“They killed, they killed, they killed…”

“They?”

Her head shook, like an old woman with palsy. “They killed, they killed my mom. I saw, I saw. They killed my mom, my dad. They killed-”

“I know. I'm sorry.”

“I crawled through the blood.” Eyes huge and glassy, she held out her smeared hands. “Blood.”

“Are you hurt, Nixie? Did they see you? Did they hurt you?”

“They killed, they killed-” When Peabody turned into the room, Nixie screamed as if she'd been stabbed. And launched herself into Eve's arms.

Peabody stopped short, kept her voice very calm, very quiet. “I'll call Child Protection. Is she injured?”

“Not that I can see. Shocky, though.”

It felt awkward holding a child, but Eve wrapped her arms around Nixie and got to her feet. “She saw it. We've got not only a survivor, but an eye witness.”

“We've got a nine-year-old kid who saw-” Peabody spoke in undertones as Nixie wept on Eve's shoulder, and jerked her head toward the bedroom.

“I know. Here, take her and-” But when Eve tried to peel Nixie away, the child only wrapped herself tighter.

“I think you're going to have to.”

“Hell. Call GPS, get somebody over here. Start a record, room by room. I'll be back in a minute.”

She'd hoped to pass the kid to one of the uniforms, but Nixie seemed glued to her now. Resigned, and wary, she carted Nixie down to the first floor, looked for a neutral spot, and settled on what looked like a playroom.

“I want my mom. I want my mom.”

“Yeah, I got that. But here's the thing: You've got to let go. I'm not going to leave you, but you gotta loosen the grip.”

“Are they gone?” Nixie pushed her face into Eve's shoulder. “Are the shadows gone?”

“Yes. You have to let go, sit down here. I have to do a couple of things. I need to talk to you.”

“What if they come back?”

“I won't let them. I know this is hard. The hardest.” At wit's end, she sat on the floor with Nixie still clinging to her. “I need to do a job, that's how I can help. I need to…” Jesus. “I need to get a sample from your hand, and then you can clean up. You'd feel better if you got cleaned up, right?”

“I got their blood…”

“I know. Here, this is my field kit. I'm just going to take a swab for evidence. And I need to take a recording. Then you can go to the washroom over there and clean up. Record on,” Eve said, quietly, then eased Nixie back. “You're Nixie Swisher, right? You live here?”

“Yeah, I want-”

“And I'm Lieutenant Dallas. I'm going to swab your hand here, so you can clean up. It won't hurt.”

“They killed my mom and my dad.”

“I know. I'm sorry. Did you see who they were? How many there were?”

“I have their blood on me.”

Sealing the swab, Eve looked at the child. She remembered what it was to be a little girl, covered in blood not her own. “How about you wash up?”

“I can't.”

“I'll help you. Maybe you want a drink or something. I can-” And when Nixie burst into tears, Eve's eyes began to ache.

“What? What?”

“Orange Fizzy.”

“Okay, I'll see if-”

“No, I went down to get one. I'm not supposed to, but I went down to get one, and Linnie didn't want to wake up and come. I went down to the kitchen, and I saw.”

With blood smeared on both of them now, Eve decided washing up would have to wait. “What did you see, Nixie?”

“The shadow, the man, who went into Inga's room. I thought… I was going to watch, just for a minute, if they were going to do it, you know.”

“Do what?”

“Sex. I wasn't supposed to, but I did, and I saw!”

There were tears and snot as well as blood on the kid's face now. With nothing else handy, Eve pulled a wipe rag out of her field kit and passed it over.

“What did you see?”

“He had a big knife and he cut her, he cut her bad.” She closed her own hand over her throat. “And there was blood.”

“Can you tell me what happened then?”

As the tears gushed, she rubbed the wipe and her hands over her cheeks, smearing them with blood. “He left. He didn't see me, and he left and I got Inga's 'link and I called Emergency.”

“That's stand-up thinking, Nixie. That was really smart.”

“But I wanted Mom.” Her voice cracked with tears and mucus flowing. “I wanted Dad, and I went up the back way, Inga's way, and I saw them. Two of them. They were going into my room, and Coyle's room, and I knew what they would do, but I wanted my mom, and I crawled in, and I got their blood on me, and I saw them. They were dead. They're all dead, aren't they? Everybody. I couldn't go look. I went to hide.”