How Many

The answer, once the detective's office put out a regional inquiry with Renee's photograph and both known aliases, was worse than any of us had braced for.

Three more families came forward within two weeks — two former nanny placements going back nearly six years, and, more disturbing still, a brief stint as a part-time aide at a daycare center that had let her go quietly rather than deal with a formal complaint, the kind of quiet dismissal that let her simply walk into the next job with a clean-looking résumé and no red flags for anyone to find.

Renee was formally charged with child endangerment and assault, with additional charges from two of the other families still under review. Her lawyer, at the arraignment, no longer mentioned Ryan's travel schedule at all.

The custody evaluation that followed was almost a formality by then. Full custody was awarded to Ryan, with a permanent no-contact order protecting Nora, and — at Carol Henderson's request, once she learned how things had unfolded — an unusual addendum requiring the court to notify a small registry of the other affected families whenever Renee applied for any position involving children in the future.

"It's not a perfect system," our lawyer admitted. "It relies on employers actually checking. But it's more than existed before any of you called us."

Nora started seeing a child therapist twice a week that fall. Some sessions were easy — she'd draw, or talk about school, or ask when she could get a dog. Some sessions left her quiet and clingy for the rest of the evening, unwilling to let Ryan or me out of her sight for long. Dr. Kim told us both to expect that unevenness for a long while yet, and not to mistake a hard week for a step backward.

The trial date, once set, was still eight months away. Whatever justice existed at the end of that road was going to take patience none of us felt we had.