The constriction was back in her chest. And her throat. She stared at Mark wide-eyed, as though, if she tried hard enough—filled her vision with enough of him—she could block out the memories choking her.
“Who was hurt?”
She shook her head.
“Where were you?”
Here. In Shelter Valley. “Home.”
“Your house caught on fire?”
She nodded.
“Were you in bed?”
Another nod.
“Being five, you wouldn’t have been left home alone.”
She didn’t say anything.
And then his entire being softened. It was as though he reached out, wrapped his arms around her and cushioned her from life’s blows.
As if anyone could do that.
“Were there any other survivors?”
Addy shook her head.
CHAPTER SEVEN
IT WAS LATE. He had to be out of bed at six the next morning so he could prepare breakfast and pretend he wasn’t paying attention to Nonnie’s morning routine as she got herself up and around. Afterward, he’d get ready to leave for class.
But right now, Mark wasn’t about to leave Adele Kennedy. Even though her blank expression told him she didn’t want to talk about what happened on the night of the fire anymore.
He had more questions for her, but they’d have to wait.
“Do you have a DVD player?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you have any movies?”
“I have Netflix.”
He had an account for Nonnie, too. She watched it through the secondhand PlayStation he’d picked up from a guy at the plant the previous Christmas.
“You ever watch Andy Griffith?”
Her smile was mostly dead, but it was there. “Who doesn’t?”
“The town I grew up in is a lot like Mayberry, even now. We have one sheriff and he’s got a couple of deputies and they pretty much keep everyone in line.”
“I have a feeling this town is pretty much the same way.”
“Maybe. How about you? Where’d you grow up?”
“Colorado.”