Page 11 of Caution to the Wind

Her small mouth fell into a pink “O” of shock. “No!”

“You sure?”

She nodded empathetically as if she was worried about my intelligence.

“Huh, well, you look like one,” I told her, smilin’ at her little hiccoughed giggle. “Sometimes people look different than who they actually are, huh?”

“I guess,” she agreed, her small shoulders relaxin’ slightly. She turned into Shelby Yikkers’ chest with a yawn and snuggled closer.

Shelby cupped the back of her head, her wrinkled face lax with sorrow. “She’s just a kid. I try to take care of her as much as I can, Kate too, but Jimmie Page is a dangerous man, and I can only do so much…”

“You found her?” I asked softly, ’cause Cleopatra’s eyes were closed, and a soft snore soon followed.

Shelby dipped her chin to the little girl. “I look after her sometimes when her mum is…busy. She came to get me. Hid in the bathtub while the bastard and his friends did that to Kate.”

Fuck.

How did other people do this? See sufferin’ and endure without excruciatin’ empathy.

“I’ll keep an eye on Ms. Kay and let you know when she wakes,” I promised as if that would do this family any good.

Shelby stared at me with weathered eyes, worn smooth by years of toil and tragedy. “You new here?”

I nodded.

“Ah, well, I suspect we’ll be seeing you again soon.”

And I did.

Katherine Kay was admitted to the hospital six more times over the next eighteen months, and that last time required surgery for the removal of her ruptured uterus, a surgery that made her sterile at the age of twenty-five.

The day after she was discharged, I made her my wife.

“Henning?”

I exploded from sleep like a swimmer from icy waters, gaspin’ and alert the moment I opened my eyes.

“Yeah?”

Dr. Pandey stared down at me with that soft, tragic smile she seemed to wear so often in my presence.

“Mei Zhen Marchand is out of surgery. Her parents have been alerted, and they’re on their way, but I thought you and Cleo…you might like to see her.”

My hand instinctively stroked Cleo’s hair where her head lay on my shoulder, a puddle of cold drool beneath her slack mouth on my tee.

“Yeah, yeah, that’d be good.” My voice was rough as gravel and just as painful passin’ through my throat. “She’s gonna be okay?”

“She is, physically.” Becky Pandey sighed as she looked at Cleo. “But mentally? She watched a woman get murdered, Hen. I doubt she’ll ever recover from that.”

“Yeah,” I grunted, rememberin’ the way she’d clung to Kate’s hand as she lay awkwardly on her broken body at her feet.

Mei was twelve years old, and she’d witnessed a murder.

Cleo was twelve years old, and she’d lost her mother, the only permanent fixture in her crazy, fucked-up life so far.

I pressed a kiss to my daughter’s fragrant hair and wished for the millionth time that I could trade places with my dead wife.

“Henning?” Becky Pandey prompted. “The parents will be here shortly, and I’m not sure they’ll want you to see her after that.”