"Yes," she nodded, and she seemed glad to be able to remember something that might be important. "He came by after she had missed a couple of Sundays."

"Did you hear what she said to him?"

"No," Dottie answered. "They were in the den, and I wanted to give them some privacy." She seemed to remember something. "He did call back a week later on the telephone, but she told me to say she wasn't in. That must have been a Saturday, because I was home during the daytime. And I remember that she got a couple more calls that day, and didn't take those, either."

"Was this odd?"

"Not by then," she said. "This must have been around February. I remember I was kind of relieved that she didn't want to talk to Mark anymore."

"Did she have some kind of argument with him?"

Dottie shrugged. "All I know is that she hated him. She went from spending most of her time with him to absolutely hating him."

"Hating him the way a girl hates a guy who won't ask her out?"

Dottie sat back, giving Lena a hard look of appraisal. She finally seemed to realize that this interview was being conducted to establish Jenny's guilt, not clear her name.

Lena repeated her question. "She hated Mark because he didn't want to go out with her anymore?"

"No," Dottie snapped, her nasally twang back. "Of course not."

"You're certain?"

"He was arrested around that time," Dottie told her, obviously more comfortable putting Mark in the criminal role. "For assault. He attacked his sister."

Jeffrey cursed himself for not having checked this before. He picked up the phone in the interview room and punched Maria's extension.

"Yep?" Maria asked.

"Pull a file for me," he said, keeping his voice low. "Mark Patterson."

"Kid from last night?"

"Yes."

"Sure thing," she answered, ringing off.

When Jeffrey turned his attention back to the room, the climate had changed drastically. Dottie Weaver sat in her chair, her jaw set in an angry line.

Lena asked, "Would you like something to drink?"

"No, thank you."

"Did you know your daughter's arm was fractured last year?"

Dottie seemed surprised. She asked Sara, "Did she come see you without me?"

"No," Sara answered, not elaborating. She seemed angry, but not at Dottie Weaver.

Lena pressed on. "Was your daughter interested in African or Middle Eastern culture?"

Dottie shook her head, not understanding. "Of course not. Why? What does that have to do with anything?"

Sara asked, "Dottie, do you want to take a break?"

Lena shifted in her seat, keeping the questioning up. "Your daughter also had a stress fracture in her pelvis, Mrs. Weaver. Did you know this?"

Dottie's mouth worked, but she did not answer.

Lena said, "She was probably raped." She paused, then without emotion added the word, "Brutally."

"I don't…" Dottie turned to Sara, then back to Lena. "I don't understand."

"What about the scarring on her arms and legs?" Lena demanded. "What happened there? Why was your daughter cutting herself?"

"Cutting herself?" Dottie demanded. "What are you talking about?"

"There were cuts all over her body Self-inflicted, from the looks of them. You want to tell me how she could do this without you knowing?"

"She was secretive," Dottie countered. "She covered herself up with her clothes. I never-"

Lena interrupted, "Did you know that she'd had surgery in the last six months?"

"Surgery?" Dottie repeated. "What are you talking about?"

"Not surgery," Sara interrupted, putting her hand on Dottie's arm. She said, "Dottie, when I examined Jenny-"

Lena opened the case file. She tossed a picture across the table, then another. From his position, Jeffrey could not make out which ones, but he knew by the expression on Dottie's face exactly what the mother was looking at.

"Oh, my God, my baby." She put her hand to her mouth.

" Lena," Sara warned, putting her hand over the pictures. She tried to move them away, but Dottie stopped her. They struggled for a few seconds with one of the photos before Sara reluctantly let go.

"W-what?" Dottie stuttered. Her hand shook as she held the photo close to her face.

Lena looked smug as she sat back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. She actually turned to the mirror, to Jeffrey, and raised her eyebrows in a sort of triumph.

Sara put her hand to Dottie's back. "Let me have this," she said, trying to take away the photo.

"My God, my God," the woman muttered, sobbing openly. "My baby. Who did this to my baby?"

Sara shot a look at Lena, and Jeffrey could feel the heat from her stare. Lena shrugged, as if to say, "What did you expect?"

"Oh, God, oh, God," Dottie whispered, then stopped abruptly. Her body went limp, and Sara softened the woman's fall as she fainted to the floor.

Jeffrey stood in the hallway outside the briefing room, talking to Lena.

"We'll need to get to the Patterson boy right away," Jeffrey told her. "Sara can do the autopsy briefing by herself."

Lena looked over his shoulder toward the back door. Sara had walked Dottie to her car to make sure the woman was okay, but not before giving a taut warning to Lena that she would be back.

Jeffrey said, "Maria is pulling his address right now. There may be something more to his involvement in this. Hopefully, we'll catch his sister at home, too."

Lena nodded, crossing her arms. "You want me to take the sister and you can do Mark?"

"Let's see how it goes," Jeffrey answered. "I also want to get a look at this preacher."

Something flickered in Lena 's eyes. She said, "He's at my church. Well, not my church, but it's where Hank goes, and I go along with him sometimes." She shrugged. "You know, for something to do. I'm not religious like that or anything."

"Yeah," Jeffrey answered, a little startled that she had offered this information. It was as close to chatty as Lena had gotten since her attack. He thought maybe it was doing her some good to be involved in the case, and Jeffrey was pleased with that.

"I'm gonna call Brad in off patrol," Jeffrey said. "I want to talk to him as soon as I can and see what he says about Fine."

"You think Fine's the one who did this to Jenny?"

Jeffrey tucked his hands into his pockets. He could not imagine anyone harming a child, but the fact remained that someone had. "We need to find out if Fine was on that retreat during Christmas."

"Maybe I could-" Lena stopped as the back door was thrown open with a loud bang.

Jeffrey turned just as Sara closed the door. He could tell from the way she walked up the hall that she was angry as hell.

About ten feet away from them, Sara demanded, "What were you doing in there? How could you do that to her?"

Lena dropped her hands to her side. Jeffrey saw her fists clench as Sara shortened the distance between them.

Lena moved away, so that her back was against the wall. She kept her hands clenched and her voice was strong when she said, "I was doing my job."

"Your job?" Sara shot back, getting in Lena 's face. Sara had a good six inches on Lena, and she was using them to her advantage. "Is it your job to torture a woman who's just lost her kid? Is it your job to show her those pictures?"

Sara's voice cracked on this last word. "How could you do that to her, Lena? How could you make those pictures the last memory she'll ever have of her daughter?"

Jeffrey said, "Sara-" just as Sara leaned in and whispered something in Lena 's ear. He could not hear what she had said, but Lena 's reaction was immediate. Her shoulders dropped, and she reminded Jeffrey of a kitten that had been picked up by the scruff of its neck.

Sara saw this, and he could see the immediate guilt on her face. She put her hand over her mouth, as if she could keep the words in. "I'm sorry," she said to Lena. "I am so sorry."