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now.”
    “It’s okay, Livvy. You can tell me. It’s okay to tell me.”
    And it was. She could look into his green eyes and it was all right to say. “It smells bad, and things are broken, and they’re red and wet and nasty. The flowers are on the floor and there’s glass. You don’t walk near glass in your bare feet ‘cause it hurts. I don’t want to step in it. I see Mama, and she’s lying down on the floor, and the red and the wet is all over her. The monster’s with her. He has her scissors in his hand.”
    She held up her own, fingers curled tight and a glazed look in her eye. “ ‘Livvy. God, Livvy,’ “ she said in a horrible mimic of her father’s voice. “I ran away, and he kept calling. He was breaking things and looking for me and crying. I hid in the closet.” Another tear trembled and fell. “I wet my pants.”
    “That’s all right, honey. That doesn’t matter.”
    “Big girls don’t.”
    “You’re a very big girl. And very brave and smart.” When she gave him a watery smile, he prayed he wouldn’t have to put her through that night again. He drew her attention back to her puzzle, made some foolish comment about talking pumpkins that had her giggling. He didn’t want her parting thought of him to be of fear and blood and madness.
    Still, when he turned at the door to glance back, Olivia’s eyes were on him, quietly pleading, and holding that ter-rifyingly adult expression only the very young can manage.
    As he started downstairs, he found his thoughts running with Jamie Melbourne’s. He wanted Sam Tanner’s blood.
    “You were very good with her.” Jamie’s control had almost reached the end of its strength. She wanted to curl up and weep as her mother was. To mire herself in chores and duties as her husband was. Anything, anything but reliving this over again as she had through Olivia’s words.
    “She’s a remarkable girl.”
    “Takes after her mother.”
    He stopped then, turned and looked at Jamie squarely. “I’d say she’s got some of her aunt in her.”
    There was a flicker of surprise over her face, then a sigh. “She had nightmares last night, and I’ll catch her just staring off into space with that—that vacant look in her eyes. Sucking her thumb. She stopped sucking her thumb before she was a year old.”
    “Whatever comforts. Mrs. Melbourne, you’ve got a lot on your mind, and a lot more to deal with. You’re going to want to think about counseling, not just for Olivia, but for all of you.”
    “Yes, I’ll think about it. Right now, I just have to get through the moment. I want to see Sam.”
    “That’s not a good idea.”
    “I want to see the man who murdered my sister. I want to look him in the eye. That’s my therapy, Detective Brady.”
    “I’ll see what I can do. I appreciate your time and cooperation. And again, we’re sorry for your loss.”
    “See that he pays.” She opened the door, braced herself against the calls and shouts of the press, of the curious, crowded in the street.
    “We’ll be in touch” was all Frank said.
    Jamie closed the door, leaned heavily against it. She lost track of how long she stood there, eyes closed, head bent, but she jerked straight when a hand fell on her shoulder.
    “Jamie, you need some rest.” David turned her into his arms. “I want you to take a pill and lie down.”
    “No, no pills. I’m not having my mind or my feelings clouded.” But she laid her head on his shoulder and some of the pressure eased out of her chest. “The two detectives were just here.”
    “You should have called me.”
    “They wanted to talk to me, and to Livvy.”
    “Livvy?” He pulled her back to stare at her. “For God’s sake, Jamie, you didn’t let them interrogate that child?”
    “It wasn’t like that, David.” Resentment wanted to surface, but she was too tired for it. “Detective Brady was very gentle with her, and I stayed the whole time. They needed to know what she’d seen. She’s the only