The Inquisitor

He’d had no idea what to say to a four-year-old who had just lost her mother in the most brutal way imaginable. And no clue in hell what to do with a two-year-old.

That initial panic had, in the intervening years, given way to more normal concerns like whether or not he was providing all the right things for them. Child-care issues. Keeping up with vaccinations and checkups. Just getting them to bed at a reasonable hour sometimes seemed Herculean.

At least it had before he’d found Maria. And if it all worked out here…

He destroyed the thought, realizing how far from those concerns the one he was currently embarked upon was. How foreign to his problems with childcare.

“Gotta go,” he said, glancing at his watch again.

It was already four-thirty. With traffic, making it to Jenna Kincaid’s office before five would be a close-run thing. And it would mean doing without dinner again.

“But you’ll think about it, won’t you?” Cathy said, bringing his attention back.

“The puppy?”

“No, I know we can’t have a dog. Getting home before Christmas. You’ll try, won’t you?”

“I told you the last time. It just depends on how things go down here.”

“In Birmingham.”

“That’s right.”

“That’s where that killer is, right?”

The question caught at Sean’s gut, twisting it. He hesitated, wondering if someone could possibly have said something to the little girl about those deaths here.

“Who told you that?”

“I saw it on the news. Maria turned it off, but they said ‘Birmingham.’ I’m pretty sure.”

“And it worried you?”

“Yeah. A little.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to me, Princess. You can quit worrying about that.”

There was silence on the other end. It lasted long enough that he felt that same squeeze of dread in his belly.

“You hear me, Princess. I’m taking care of business down here, and then I’ll be home. I swear to you.”

“Okay.”

“You take care of your brother. And save some of that cake for me.”

“Okay.”

The usually bubbly voice was still subdued. Sean closed his eyes, trying to find words that would comfort a child whose world had already been destroyed once.

“Have I ever lied to you?” he demanded.

“No,” she said softly. “At least I don’t think so.”

“What does that mean?”

“Is it him?”

“What him?”

The question was too harsh. He’d guarded them against everything he could possibly think of and still she’d somehow learned what had happened.

“The man who killed Mama.”

There was no way he could deal with this. Not from this distance. Not over the phone.

“I don’t know.”

“But you think so. That’s why you went down there, isn’t it?”

“I thought I could help the cops.”

“Because of what you know about Mama?”

“That’s right.”

His heart rate was beginning to slow. Maybe she’d known all along. Even at four, not much had gotten by her. And he had no idea what the social workers had told her before he’d gotten stateside. He’d never asked, and she hadn’t volunteered the information.

“You promise that’s why you went.”

“I promise.”

There was no response. The silence stretched until he wondered if she’d hung up.

“Princess? You okay?”

“I’m okay. But…I really think that even if you haven’t finished helping them, you need to come home for Christmas. For Ryan’s sake. Tell them everything you know as soon as you can, okay?”

“Just as soon as I can,” Sean promised. “Mind Maria, now. Tell her to give you a kiss for me.”

“I will. I love you.”

“I love you, too. Talk to you soon.”

“Bye, Uncle Sean.”

“Bye, sweetheart.”

The line went dead before he was forced to tell another lie. He punched the off button on the cell and closed it to stick it back into his jacket pocket.