Page 45 of Little Girls Sleeping

“Surprised to see me?” he said in a low, serious voice. His eyes bored through her, accompanied by a sour expression that made him appear much older. His slightly freckled skin, clean-shaven face, and red hair generally gave him the appearance of a big kid, but now his demeanor was cold, hard, and intimidating.

“Look,” Katie said. “I may not have handled the situation in the best way, but I’m not getting any cooperation from you. I apologize; I let my anger dictate my act.”

“Meaning?” he said, gritting his teeth.

“Meaning we’re both police officers, and whether you like me or not, or whether you like this detail or not, we’re stuck with it for now.”

He sighed loudly and cocked his head as if thinking about the situation.

“I won’t ask you this again. Do you have my back?” She stood her ground, even though she was a good eight inches shorter than the deputy.

“Of course.” He lowered his voice. “What kind of question is that?”

“An important one.”

McGaven took a step back, looking down and nodding his head in agreement.

“Do I have your word?” she pushed.

“Yes of course, Detective.”

Katie tried to hide a smile. She could see herself getting to like the deputy. “Call me Katie,” she said.

“Well now, I’m glad that’s settled,” said a man at the end of the hall. He wore Bermuda shorts, dark sneakers without socks, and a loose Hawaiian shirt that helped to hide the extra twenty pounds packed on around his midsection. He appeared to be ready for a vacation on a tropical island somewhere.

“Excuse me?” Katie said, taken aback.

“Detective Scott, I presume.”

“Yes,” she said warily.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m Dr. Dean, Jeff to most.” He moved toward one of the exam rooms.

Katie tried not to show her surprise at his appearance or his introduction. All she’d known about him prior to this was that he was thorough and dedicated—one of the best.

The doctor stuck his head out the door. “I assume you want to know my findings on the girls?”

“Yes,” Katie said and hurried to the room, McGaven following closely behind her.

The exam room was separate from the autopsy rooms. It was familiar to Katie and she immediately acquired a lump in her throat that restricted her breathing. Her pulse quickened as the flashback rushed into her mind—the moment when she’d had to identify her parents’ bodies—causing her vision to skew and making everything in the room move strangely in a dizzying instant.

She took a concentrated breath and focused on the two gurneys, each covered by a single sheet. Flipping open her field notebook, she noticed that both of her hands trembled slightly. She dropped them to her sides and waited for the doctor’s report, hoping that her unsteadiness would subside.

Dr. Dean moved to the first gurney and peeled back the sheet to expose the frail body of Chelsea Compton. Her face resembled that of a china doll rather than a rambunctious fourth-grader with her entire life ahead of her.

An image of Jenny flashed across Katie’s memory.

Sitting cross-legged on the bed at camp, Katie and Jenny both had their journals open and were sharing stories as well as likes and dislikes.

“No way,” Jenny said. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue.”

“Favorite cereal?”

Katie had to think a moment. She was torn between plain Os and a fruity cereal. Both were super-delicious. “It depends,” she said.

“You have to pick one. I did.”