Nothing Sacred

Fortunately, David wasn’t easily put in his “place.” He had the added incentive of needing to help this girl’s mother. And facing doubts about his suspicions where Ellen’s attack was concerned. Not getting any information in Phoenix had been disappointing enough. But he’d been watching that corner out by the highway for more “hitchhikers” as well, and had scored a great big zero there, too.

He should never have told Martha he had some ideas. Should never have raised her hopes.

“Anything you tell me will go no further than this office,” he said. Shelley was entitled to confidentiality.

But she didn’t say anything.

Until she finally muttered, “Can I go now?”

He’d hoped for more. Hadn’t really expected it, but he had hoped.

“No.”

“Why?” Her jaws worked her gum a little harder.

“Because we need to talk about that day I saw you coming out of the desert.”

Her mistake was the brief glance down. It told him far more than she probably realized.

“What day?”

Confident now that he had a problem on his hands, David stood to his six-foot height, towering over her seated frame. Hands in the pockets of his slacks, he rounded the desk, stopping just in front of her chair.

“You know what day, Shelley,” he said, all vestiges of gentleness gone. “You heard me. Both times I called out. The second time you pretended to pick something up from the ground and looked at me under your arm.”

He could have moved. It would’ve been kinder had he sat. He didn’t. He didn’t give her a chance to respond, either.

“The real question is not whether or not you knew I was there or even why you didn’t respond. The question is, what you were doing there in the first place?”

“I don’t have to tell you.”

“What?”

Tough girl that she was, she peered up at him when he spoke, his voice harsh. Which was exactly the reaction he’d wanted.

“I don’t have to tell you that,” she repeated.

He’d heard her the first time.

“No, you’re right, you don’t.” When he looked hard, he could see the sweet girl she’d obviously once been. In spite of the pitch-black, purple-spiked hair. “But I think you should.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to tell your mother if you don’t.”

“So?”

She was one tough cookie. A young girl who’d been hurt beyond her ability to cope successfully.

She’d been this way before Ellen’s attack. What had so badly betrayed her? Or who? Were the defensive walls first constructed because of her father’s defection? Or was it something else?

David really wanted to help her. And thought he had a good chance of doing so if he only knew exactly what he was dealing with. Hurt feelings could be healed. Hurt people could be healed. If they wanted to be….

Frustrated, David wished he could figure out a way to persuade her to talk to him.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Her rude tone didn’t really surprise him. It did disappoint him.

“Get what?”