So this recap is incredibly delayed because I had to move all the furniture and vacuum all the cat hair my cats are storing down there in case they wake up bald one day. And then I had to scrub the kitchen floor and do the dishes, run a few loads of laundry and get those put away, tend to the mildew on the bathroom ceiling (such a shame I had to do that -- they had just evolved to the point where they were electing representatives to a sort of mycological Parliament) and shine all the faucets, and then, once I had finished this frenetic bout of housekeeping and could therefore suffer some horrible death without having total strangers rampaging through the house and tut-tutting over my housekeeping skills as a reflection of my fitness as a human being...wait a minute. You mean not everyone has the paranoid fear that once they're brutally murdered, others will jump to conclusions about their mental health based on the cleanliness of their apartment? I don't know where that came from. Let's just get on with the episode, shall we?

We begin with a shot of grassy swampland, then a well-manicured suburb abutting it. It's no doubt named for the very ecosystem it just displaced. We see people going about their business -- two kids carrying surfboards, hired help tending to the lawns, and then a toddler in a bloodstained footy pajama set wandering down the street. Cut to a few different law enforcement vehicles, one of which is disgorging the Child Protector of the Greater Miami-Dade area himself, Horatio. He asks Sevilla what's going on, and she tells him, "Gardener saw a bloody kid out here on her own." We cut to the child in question now on a gurney and being divested of her bloody romper. Caine and Sevilla brainstorm where the child might have come from -- some uniforms are doing door-to-door, but there's nothing to indicate that the wandering waif is local. The two are over by the gurney now, asking the EMT what they've got; the EMT replies, "There's not a scratch on her." The child, however, is understandably irritated and begins crying. Horatio looks at the girl for a minute, then says, "Well, the blood had to come from somewhere, didn't it? My guess is that someone close to this child is either dead or dying."

And then Roger Daltrey screams off-camera, leading me to wonder if someone's covered his footy romper in blood too.

Once we're back, the little girl is looking up at Horatio and crying fiercely; not even Speedle's presence calms her down. I can empathize. Horatio is swabbing her and directing Speedle to take the swabs to Hematrace. He then turns back to the little girl and croons, "Good job. You are a good girl." That shuts her right up. Speedle performs an impromptu field test and discovers -- unsurprisingly -- that the little girl was covered in human blood, and it's not her own. Horatio directs Speedle to take the sleeper to Megan and get DNA and Trace working on it, then goes back to reassuring the toddler, "You are a good girl." He then wanders over to Sevilla and says, "Too much blood for a casual injury." Sevilla wonders how far the toddler could have walked. Horatio muses, "Your average adult has been clocked at two-and-a-half to three miles per hour, but to my knowledge, no toddler has ever been road-tested." For some reason, the idea of road-testing toddlers cracks me up. Horatio then says, "I'm interested in that sunburn on the one side of her face. You have a sunburn on one side of your face, it means you've been walking in a straight line, doesn't it?" The two figure out that the child was traveling due north, so they hop in a car and begin heading south.