I took a deep breath, trying to steady my shaking hands as I looked down at the photos of Madison. They covered the floor like a twisted carpet of paper and ink. 

The pictures showed Madison at the park, drinking coffee and laughing with friends. But it wasn’t the candid snapshots that made my heart race—it was the angry red smears across her smiling face.

My jaw clenched. I felt a heat rising in my chest, a silent scream of anger that someone would invade our lives like ...