“North Carolina.”
“Does he still live there?”
She shakes her head. “He’s dead now.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“He had fruit trees, too. Apples, cherries, peaches. His vegetable garden was massive.” Her lips slant into a near-smile. “How long have you lived in this house?”
“About six months. I’ve been slowly fixing it up on weekends. Can’t say I’ve given the garden the attention it deserves.”
“It shows.”
I chuckle, not the least bit put off by her teasing. This little girl can crack jokes at my garden’s expense until sunup if it makes her smile.
There I go again, referring to McKenzie as a little girl. Last night, at the hospital, she told the intake nurse she was eighteen. Shelookseighteen, but there are moments when the girl she used to be shines through, like at the crime scene this afternoon.
My buddy, Cal Larkin, the lead detective on her case, didn’t want the girls at the scene, but McKenzie was determined to be there for the search. I’ve served with grown men who don’t possess half the fortitude this girl carries in her five-foot-three-inch frame. After everything she endured at the hands of a sadistic killer, she wanted to help bring him down.
Needless to say, I was moved.
“You did good today,” I tell her. “Really good.”
“I guess, if crying like a baby in the mud counts as really good.” She runs her finger around the rim of the glass. “Not sure what difference it’ll make in the end.”
When we arrived on the scene, I told the girls to wait by my truck until the cops called for us. But McKenzie didn’t listen. She took off toward the smoking rubble, prompting Holly and me to chase her up the hill.
The only proof of McKenzie’s story, besides the physical evidence gathered at the hospital, had gone up in smoke. It all proved too much for her to take in. She fell to her hands and knees in the mud and wailed.
I came fucking close to gathering her in my arms and taking her straight home. But touching her in that moment, when I’d never touched her before, felt like a step too far. So I knelt in the mud beside her and tried to drum up words of comfort, things you’d say to a child who’d just awoken from a nightmare.
But McKenzie’s nightmare isn’t the kind you wake from. It’s the kind you battle through, and she fought hard to recall the last place she remembered holding her necklace, and the path she took through the woods.
“You were able to prove you were telling the truth,” I say. “You found evidence placing yourself somewhere you had no business being. It corroborates your story.”
She sets the glass on the nightstand and then rests her head on the pillow.
“Why do I feel like I’m going to be telling this story for the rest of my life?” She stares at the ceiling, and I grab this fleeting chance to study her while she’s unaware of my scrutiny. She’s a marvel, this girl. As iron-willed as she is beautiful—and she is beautiful.
Rein it the fuck in, Pope.
I command my gaze to find somewhere to linger that isn’t attached to the girl in my bed. The last thing McKenzie needs is a man’s unwelcome attention when she’s raw, vulnerable, and most importantly, currently seeking shelter in his home. She doesn’t owe me anything for my hospitality.
But someday she won’t be so tender. Someday, when she’s ready...
Forget it.That line of thinking can only lead to one place: nowhere. Her situation is fucked up enough as it is. No need to complicate it further, even if she does look like she belongs in my sheets.
“I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”
She rises onto her elbows. “Could you, um, stay a minute? Just until I fall asleep.”
Bad idea.I glance at the towels in my hand.
She continues, “It’s just that... I’ll fall asleep faster if I think you’re keeping watch.”
“Iamkeeping watch.”
Fuck it.I take a seat on the edge of the bed, as far away from her as I can sit without my ass hitting the floor. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, McKenzie.”