I never actually heard Alice Metcalf speak. She was unconscious when I found her, unconscious when I went to the hospital to see her, and then she was gone. But in my imagination, when she’s sitting across from me passing judgment, she sounds exactly like the voice that was just on the other end of the phone.

We had been sent to the sanctuary for a reported death that wasn’t suspicious at the time of the initial call to the police. And in fact, there was no reason on that morning ten years ago to assume that Alice Metcalf or her child was missing. They could have been out grocery shopping, blissfully unaware of the goings-on at the sanctuary. They could have been in the local park. Alice’s cell phone had been called, but by Thomas’s own admission she never remembered to carry it anywhere. And the nature of her work, studying the cognition of elephants, meant that she often disappeared into the far reaches of the property for hours at a time to do observation, often—to her husband’s chagrin—taking her three-year-old with her.

I was hoping she’d turn up with a cup of coffee, back from an early morning Dunkin’ Donuts jaunt, the baby gumming a bagel. The last place I wanted them to be was in the sanctuary, with that seventh elephant still running loose.

I didn’t want to let myself think of what might have already happened to them.

Four hours into the investigation, MCU had collected ten boxes of evidence: husks of squash and tufts of dried grass, leaves black with what might have been dried dung and might have been dried blood. While they worked the scene, we accompanied Nevvie’s body to the main gate of the sanctuary with Gideon. He moved slowly; his voice was as hollow as a drum. As a cop, I’d seen enough tragedy to know he was either truly affected by the death of his mother-in-law or else worthy of an Oscar. “My condolences,” Donny said. “I imagine this is very hard for you.”

Gideon nodded, wiping his eyes. He looked like a man who’d been through hell.

“How long have you worked here?” Donny asked.

“Since the sanctuary opened. And before that, with a circus down South. It’s where I met my wife. Nevvie was the one who got me my first job.” His voice broke on the dead woman’s name.

“Have you ever seen elephants display aggressive behavior?”

“Have I seen it?” Gideon asked. “Sure, at the circus. Here, not a lot. A swat, if a keeper surprises them in a bad way. Once, one of our girls freaked when she heard a cell phone ring that sounded like calliope music. You know how they say elephants never forget? Well, it’s true. But not always in a good way.”

“So it’s possible that something upset one of the … girls … and she knocked down your mother-in-law?”

Gideon looked at the ground. “I guess.”

“You don’t sound very convinced,” I said.

“Nevvie knew her way around an elephant,” Gideon said. “She wasn’t some stupid rookie. This was just … bad timing.”

“What about Alice?” I asked.

“What about her?”

“Does she know her way around an elephant?”

“Alice knows elephants better than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“Did you see her last night?”

He looked at Donny, and then at me. “Off the record?” he said. “She came to me for help.”

“Because the sanctuary was having problems?”

“No, because of Thomas. When the sanctuary started hemorrhaging money, he changed. His mood swings, they’re wild. He’s been spending all his time locked in his study, and last night, he really scared Alice.”

Scared. The word was a red flag.

I got the sense he was holding something back. I wasn’t surprised; he wouldn’t talk out of turn about his boss’s domestic troubles if he wanted to keep his job. “Did she say anything else?” Donny asked.

“She mentioned something about taking Jenna somewhere so she’d be safe.”

“Sounds like she trusts you,” Donny said. “How does that play out with your wife?”

“My wife is gone,” Gideon answered. “Nevvie is all the family I have—had—left.”

I stopped walking as we approached the massive barn. Five elephants milled in the enclosure behind it, shifting beside each other like storm clouds, their quiet rumbles shaking the ground beneath our feet. I had the uncanny sense that they understood every single word we’d been saying.

It made me think of Thomas Metcalf.

Donny faced Gideon. “Is there anyone you can think of who’d want to hurt Nevvie? Anyone human, that is?”

“Elephants, they’re wild animals. They’re not our pets. Anything could have happened.” Gideon reached a hand toward the metal bars of the fence as one of the elephants stuck her trunk through it. She sniffed at his fingers, then picked up a rock and chucked it at my head.

Donny laughed. “Look at that, Virg. She doesn’t like you.”

“They need to be fed.” Gideon slipped inside, and the elephants began to trumpet, knowing what was coming.

Donny shrugged and kept walking. I wondered if I was the only one who noticed that Gideon had not really answered his question.

“Go away, Abby,” I shout; at least I think I’m shouting, because my tongue feels about ten sizes too big for my mouth. “I told you, I’m not drinking.”