Later, detectives waited gently for her story. It came in fragments, each word fragile but true. “Daddy left us when I was small. He found me after school, and said mummy was sick,” she whispered. “Gave me candy…said he’d take me to her. It made me sleepy.” Her brow furrowed. “When I woke up, we were in the woods. He got mad when I cried.”
Elena’s throat tightened as the little girl described the “camp”—a tent that smelled of smoke and fear, and a father who yelled. “He said we’d start a new life. I tried to run,” she said. “He was mean to me. I screamed. Then…Rover, that’s what I called him, came, I don’t know from where. He growled loudly. I wasn’t scared anymore.”