Bree’s gaze snapped around the room and fell on some framed snapshots on a side table. Most of the photos focused on a little blonde girl. Bree’s heart kicked against her ribs. She’d known homicide would be challenging. Instead of the occasional dead body, death would be her focus on a daily basis. She’d come to terms with her new reality, but kids . . . For most cops, it was the child victims who broke them. “Lena is your daughter?” Romano asked. “Yeah.” Kelly jumped to her feet, her eyes wild. “You gotta find her.” Bree studied the photos.“How old is she?” “Five.” Kelly covered her mouth with one hand. She wrapped the other around her own waist. “Is there anyone James could have left Lena with?” Romano’s voice remained calm, but the tone had shifted. There was a layer of urgency under the quiet words. “Maybe his father. That’s who he lives with.” Kelly shoved a hand through her limp hair. She pulled out a phone and jabbed the screen. She turned on the speakerphone and held the cell in front of her mouth. A man answered in an angry voice. “Why are you calling me?” Kelly ignored…