Hush Little Girl

abuse.”
“What’s the mechanism of injury?” Noah asked.
“Usually, these posterior rib fractures occur from pressure—an adult or bigger person squeezing the child and shaking them or putting a great deal of pressure on their body from front to back. This is very unusual to see in children as a result of some kind of accident. These fractures likely happened when she was much younger, but between these and her cauliflower ear, it appears as though she sustained prolonged abuse during her life.”
Josie felt as though someone had lowered lead weights onto her shoulders. Her mind kept returning to the day she’d met Lorelei and her girls. Nothing at all about them had sent up any red flags. How had Josie missed it? What was she missing now?
“What about her medical records?” Noah asked. “If she lived in Denton, she would have sought treatment here, most likely.”
“And Lorelei would have had to put down an emergency contact,” Josie added.
Dr. Feist said, “I don’t have access to those records. You’d have to get a warrant and serve it on health information management.”
“Come on,” Josie said to Noah. “We’ll get warrants for both their medical records. But first, we need to find out everything we can about Lorelei Mitchell.”

Eleven
Josie and Noah stopped in to check on Emily before they left. She had fallen asleep, arms wrapped around her stuffed dog. Her cheeks were bright red, and her mouth hung open. Strings of brown hair were matted to the sides of her face. Josie felt a profound sadness looking at her. At only eight years old, her entire life had been turned upside-down and her future was uncertain. Yet she’d been so brave and stoic through all of it. Josie felt Noah’s palm warm on her shoulder. In a chair at the side of the bed, Marcie tapped away at her laptop. When she saw them, she stood and came to the door. “She finally fell asleep. She’s pretty sick, though. Dr. Nashat will keep her overnight. That should give you some time to search for next of kin. Otherwise, she goes into the system.”
“Did she tell you anything?” Josie asked.
Marcie shook her head. “Nothing more than she told you.”
“What about her friend Pax? Did you ask her about him?”
“I did. She would only say that his dad doesn’t like her mom very much, but that Pax is a friend. I asked her what kinds of things they do together, and she said he brings her fruit, and they play games. I asked if he ever hurt her or anyone in her family, and she said no. I asked her when she last saw him and she didn’t know. She was, however, certain that she had not seen him today.”
“Did she know his last name?” Noah asked. “Or where he lives?”
“She said he would ride his mountain bike to their house. That’s all. But she’s only eight. It’s not unusual that she wouldn’t know details adults take for granted, like his last name.”
Josie sighed. “We’ll see what we can turn up.”
It was late by the time the entire team was assembled at the stationhouse. Their police headquarters was housed in an old, three-story stone building that was on the city’s historic register. It had been converted from the town hall into the police station over sixty-five years ago, and with its double casement arched windows and old bell tower at one end, it resembled a castle. On the second floor was what they called the great room—an open area filled with desks and filing cabinets where the detectives worked and uniformed officers did their paperwork. The Chief’s office was across from the bullpen. Josie, Noah, Gretchen, and Mettner all had their own permanent desks which were pushed up against one another, forming a large rectangle. They all sat at their desks now, waiting for the Chief to arrive. Gretchen typed reports. Josie entered Lorelei’s name and other vital information into a series of databases, trying to find any information she could. Beside her, Noah prepared a warrant for Lorelei’s and Holly’s medical records. Mett scrolled through notes he’d made in his phone.
The only other permanent desk now belonged to their press liaison, Amber Watts. Mettner had brought her to the wedding as his date, and now, perched on the edge of her desk with a tablet in hand, she still wore a low-cut, pale pastel green dress that hugged her svelte figure. Her thick auburn curls cascaded down her back. It wasn’t lost on Josie that every few seconds Mettner’s eyes drifted away from this phone screen toward Amber.
Noah leaned over and whispered in Josie’s ear, “Do you think Mett was really upset about us walking out on our wedding, or upset that we ruined his romantic night with Watts?”
She laughed quietly. Mettner had been smitten with Amber from the day she walked into the stationhouse, but he’d never been quite this obvious about it. Josie wondered if the wedding was their first date or if they’d already been out together.
“Detectives!” hollered Chief Chitwood as he emerged from the stairwell. In his hands he carried a cardboard box filled with food that Josie immediately recognized from the menu offered at their wedding reception. Chitwood placed it in the center of their desks. “Adam Long sent that. It was left over from the reception.”
All four of them dove in, and for the first time that day, Josie realized how hungry she was. She hadn’t eaten in many hours. Chitwood gave them a few minutes to eat before he launched into the briefing. “Any of you talk to Dr. Feist?” he asked. “Either of the autopsies done yet?”
Josie said, “We did. Both are finished.”
She and Noah told the team everything they’d learned from the medical examiner. There was a long moment of uneasy silence as they all took in the savagery of the attacks on Lorelei and her daughter. Then Chitwood turned to Mettner. “What’ve you got, Mett?”
Mettner picked up his phone, scrolling. “Not a hell