Page 62 of Ace of Spades

Nate moved his chair a few inches closer. “Ask her if she knows him.”

“Do you know the man, Taylor?”

“No, but Mommy has lots of men friends.”

“Ask for a description,” Nate said.

Dr.Gleason nodded. “What does he look like?”

“He’s mad.”

Nate wanted to growl in frustration. “We need a description.”

Dr.Gleason shook his head. “She’ll get to that in her own time.” He turned his attention back to Taylor. “Taylor, why was he mad?”

“He gave my mommy pink tulips. She loves pink tulips, but she doesn’t want them. She threw them at him. He didn’t like that.”

Damn. The pink tulipshadbeen a real trigger for Taylor. Nate barely resisted dragging her onto his lap and putting a stop to this.

“What did he do when he got mad?” Dr.Gleason asked.

Taylor started rocking. “He’s hurting Mommy.” She rocked harder. “Make him stop.”

Dr.Gleason glanced at Nate before saying, “What is he doing to your mother, Taylor?”

“He’s choking her.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “You’re hurting my mommy,” she screamed.

“Blue. Taylor, blue.” Dr.Gleason sat back in his chair, his gaze on Nate once Taylor stopped rocking. “I don’t see any reason to let her see her mother die, so I’m going to skip ahead.”

“Agreed,” Nate said, swallowing hard against the bile in his throat. Although Rosie had said that Taylor had witnessed the murder, hearing it in her little-girl voice was chilling. “I’d like to put a stop to this. If we can get a name or a description from her, that’s all we need.”

Dr.Gleason nodded. “Yellow, Taylor. Where are you?”

“In the bed. I’m scared.”

“Can I talk to her?” Nate quietly said.

“Taylor, remember I told you my friend Nate wanted to talk to you?”

“Uh-huh. You said he was nice.”

“He is. He wants to ask you some questions.”

“Okay.”

“Hello, Taylor. This is Nate.”

“I like your voice.”

“Thank you.” Nate wondered if her subconscious recognized his voice. He hoped so, and that it made her feel safe. “You’re in your bed. Are you by yourself?”

“He’s coming,” she whispered.

Nate hesitated, the urge to stop this almost overwhelming.

“Can you make him go away, Nate?”

“Sweetheart, listen to me. I won’t let him hurt you, I promise. But I need you to tell me what he looks like. Can you do that?”