Page 98 of A Deeper Darkness

“Maggie, calm down,” Xander said, grabbing her hand. “Hal was shot across the street from your house. The minute you found out, you blew town. Of course you’re a suspect. The more important question is—do they know how you know Hal? Your real connection to him and Donovan?”

“Yeah, they do,” Sam said. “That reporter you impersonated? Told us one hell of a story. About your daughter, and who her father really is. Taranto’s dead, by the way.”

Xander whipped his head back to Sam. “What?”

“Right after I met with him. I was followed out of the restaurant, back to Fletcher and Hart, and they shot at us. Hart was hurt badly. Fletcher took a bullet to the arm. Then the killer went and tracked down Taranto, shot him and tossed his body in the Potomac.”

Xander ran his hand over his mouth. “So that’s why Fletcher was in a sling. I am very sorry to hear about Taranto. He was a good man, or at least trying to do the right thing. And I’m happier than ever that you’re up here now, where I can protect you.”

“Protectme?What about Donovan’s family? Susan Donovan is missing, too. For God’s sake, Xander, we can’t just hide away up here pretending everything’s going to be okay. It’s not. It’s not okay—nothing will ever be okay again.” Sam choked back a sob, of frustration, fear, she didn’t know what else, and slammed her chair back from the table. She went to the sink, not giving a damn if they watched her.

One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi. Four.

Slowly, the water and soap calmed her beating heart, helped her get her emotions back in check. She breathed deeply with each perambulation, counting off in her head over and over and over.

One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi. Four.

Simon. Matthew. Madeline. Eddie.

When her mind finally felt quiet enough to stop, she rinsed one last time and dried her hands on a red checked dishcloth.

She turned back to Xander and Maggie, who were politely looking away, staring into their beers.

She joined them at the table.

“I’m sorry. I get…upset. Washing helps.”

Like they care, Sam. Really. You need to stop telling people about your troubles.She’d managed to go nearly two years without anyone commenting on her failings, and now half of D.C. was aware she’d become a hopeless mess. Maybe she did need protecting, after all.

Xander met her eyes, frank and open. “I understand, actually. That’s why I’m up here. I get…upset, too.”

“The war?”

“Among other things. I don’t know how much you know about me, Dr. Owens.”

“Your background. Your parents. That you were a very brave soldier.” She stopped for a moment, then started again, quietly. “I know Eddie Donovan thought the world of you. He trusted you implicitly. He talked about you a lot in his journals. He respected you, in addition to enjoying your company. That’s why I’m here. Eddie trusted you. And now it seems, so must I.”

“Mommy?”

A small, scared voice startled all three of them. Jennifer had climbed out of bed and come down the hall.

“Did you have another nightmare, sweetie?” Maggie asked.

“Yes. The bad one.” The little girl’s face was pink with the effort not to cry.

“Oh, sweetie. Come here.” She gave Sam an apologetic look, and spoke sotto voce. “She’s been having bad dreams since we ran.” Then to her daughter, she said, “Tell me about it.”

The little girl was trying hard to hold it together. “It was the house across the street. Back home. There was a man there. He had a wand. Like Voldemort. He waved at it you, Mommy, and sparks flew out, and you fell down.”

She started to cry in earnest, and Maggie pulled her to her chest and held her, murmuring soothing words of nonsense to help calm her child. Sam fought the nausea that immediately blossomed when she saw the intimacy. She stood and went to the window, looked out in the dark night sky, saw the outline of the trees, their edges shimmering in moonlight.

A repeating nightmare.

The house across the street.

A man with a wand.

Perhaps a childlike interpretation of a gun?