whispered.
Jerry walked out of the room. In the hall, he stopped and took a deep breath. Most of the time he could handle the victims. Raped girls. Abused girls. Girls who had been through crap that would bring a grown man to his knees. He could look into their wounded eyes, promise to do everything he could and accept that he had tried, no matter what happened.
This girl? Something about this girl snagged his guts like fishhooks.
Stretching his neck, he walked down the hall to the station coffee room. The box of doughnuts had been decimated, but there were a couple of glazed and half a jelly left. He loaded them onto a napkin and turned to the coffee maker. Only it wasn’t just a coffee maker, it was one of those super fabulous special coffee makers that required a degree to operate. “Can somebody get in here and make me some coffee?” he yelled.
Barnes strolled in. “How’s the interview going?” He started fiddling with the machine.
“Great. Her name’s Melody, her father’s name is Sallah and she’s three thousand years old.”
“She looks great for her age.”
“Stop fuckin’ around,” Jerry snarled. The sharp scent of coffee should be clearing his head by now. Not really happening. Not yet. Maybe once he got to drink some. Or maybe he should consider pouring it over his head.
Barnes cocked an eyebrow at him. “Didn’t take long for her to get to you.”
“Look, you shoved this off on me. Don’t give me shit about how I handle it.”
“I’m not, but I think you’re getting personally involved really fast.” Barnes set one cup of coffee on the counter and started fooling with the other one. “It’s a year today, isn’t it?”
“That has nothing to do with it.”
“You can’t save everyone, Jerry.”
“I don’t need to.” He gritted his teeth. Liar, liar, pants on fire.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“How could it have been my fault, Tom? Tell me. She had cancer.”
Barnes handed him the two cups of coffee. “The first step to recovery is recognizing that you have a problem.”
Gripping the handles of the cups in one hand, Jerry grabbed the doughnuts and stalked out of the coffee room. Barnes was out of his mind. Melody, daughter of Sallah, wasn’t getting to him because of Amanda. She was getting to him because it was four in the morning and she’d been stuffed in the closet of a dead man for four days for no apparent reason. Outside the interview room he realized he didn’t have a free hand to open the door. He set the coffee on the hall table and opened the door.
Melody sat in the same pose. Maybe her arms weren’t hugging her knees quite as tight. Maybe her face wasn’t as pale. Same pose though, same heart-stopping fear in her eyes. Time to be professional about this. He put the coffee and doughnuts on the table in front of her.
“Sorry, this time of night pickin’s are pretty slim.” He slid one of the cups toward her. “So Melody, do you have any family you’d like me to call? Friends? Anyone who can come get you?”
“I have you.” Her thin hand crept across the table and she picked up one of the glazed and bit into it. “I haven’t eaten a doughnut in years. These are good. Billy had diabetes so we couldn’t have these kinds of things in the house.”
He frowned. “Melody, can you tell me why you were in that closet?”
“I was afraid. Billy wished me free before he died so I didn’t go back in the lamp and I didn’t know what to do. I’ve never been there after my master died before. I always went back in the lamp.”
“Back in the lamp?”
“My lamp.” Melody shoved the last three bites of her doughnut in her mouth and reached for the other one.
“Watch out, you don’t want to–”
Melody opened her mouth like she was trying to puke, but nothing came out.
“Shit.” Jerry leaped around the table, pulled her out of the chair, positioned his fist right under her breastbone and jerked.
Melody hacked a glob of half-chewed
Jerry walked out of the room. In the hall, he stopped and took a deep breath. Most of the time he could handle the victims. Raped girls. Abused girls. Girls who had been through crap that would bring a grown man to his knees. He could look into their wounded eyes, promise to do everything he could and accept that he had tried, no matter what happened.
This girl? Something about this girl snagged his guts like fishhooks.
Stretching his neck, he walked down the hall to the station coffee room. The box of doughnuts had been decimated, but there were a couple of glazed and half a jelly left. He loaded them onto a napkin and turned to the coffee maker. Only it wasn’t just a coffee maker, it was one of those super fabulous special coffee makers that required a degree to operate. “Can somebody get in here and make me some coffee?” he yelled.
Barnes strolled in. “How’s the interview going?” He started fiddling with the machine.
“Great. Her name’s Melody, her father’s name is Sallah and she’s three thousand years old.”
“She looks great for her age.”
“Stop fuckin’ around,” Jerry snarled. The sharp scent of coffee should be clearing his head by now. Not really happening. Not yet. Maybe once he got to drink some. Or maybe he should consider pouring it over his head.
Barnes cocked an eyebrow at him. “Didn’t take long for her to get to you.”
“Look, you shoved this off on me. Don’t give me shit about how I handle it.”
“I’m not, but I think you’re getting personally involved really fast.” Barnes set one cup of coffee on the counter and started fooling with the other one. “It’s a year today, isn’t it?”
“That has nothing to do with it.”
“You can’t save everyone, Jerry.”
“I don’t need to.” He gritted his teeth. Liar, liar, pants on fire.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“How could it have been my fault, Tom? Tell me. She had cancer.”
Barnes handed him the two cups of coffee. “The first step to recovery is recognizing that you have a problem.”
Gripping the handles of the cups in one hand, Jerry grabbed the doughnuts and stalked out of the coffee room. Barnes was out of his mind. Melody, daughter of Sallah, wasn’t getting to him because of Amanda. She was getting to him because it was four in the morning and she’d been stuffed in the closet of a dead man for four days for no apparent reason. Outside the interview room he realized he didn’t have a free hand to open the door. He set the coffee on the hall table and opened the door.
Melody sat in the same pose. Maybe her arms weren’t hugging her knees quite as tight. Maybe her face wasn’t as pale. Same pose though, same heart-stopping fear in her eyes. Time to be professional about this. He put the coffee and doughnuts on the table in front of her.
“Sorry, this time of night pickin’s are pretty slim.” He slid one of the cups toward her. “So Melody, do you have any family you’d like me to call? Friends? Anyone who can come get you?”
“I have you.” Her thin hand crept across the table and she picked up one of the glazed and bit into it. “I haven’t eaten a doughnut in years. These are good. Billy had diabetes so we couldn’t have these kinds of things in the house.”
He frowned. “Melody, can you tell me why you were in that closet?”
“I was afraid. Billy wished me free before he died so I didn’t go back in the lamp and I didn’t know what to do. I’ve never been there after my master died before. I always went back in the lamp.”
“Back in the lamp?”
“My lamp.” Melody shoved the last three bites of her doughnut in her mouth and reached for the other one.
“Watch out, you don’t want to–”
Melody opened her mouth like she was trying to puke, but nothing came out.
“Shit.” Jerry leaped around the table, pulled her out of the chair, positioned his fist right under her breastbone and jerked.
Melody hacked a glob of half-chewed
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