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Harlan nodded slowly, then turned his gaze to Sam. “He’s okay?” he asked Joel.
“He is, sir. I vouch for him personally. He’s my best friend.”
“All right, then.”
“Mrs.McK?” a small voice asked.
They all turned to find a girl standing in the doorway. Her sandy blond hair was streaked with a rainbow of colors, but her eyes were swollen and red-rimmed. She’d been crying and Sam’s heart hurt to see it.
“Rita,” Betsy said, getting up to put her arm around the girl. “Did you have a good nap?”
“Yeah,” Rita mumbled. “But I missed dinner.”
Betsy kissed the top of the girl’s head. “I saved you some. Have a seat, sweetie. I’ll warm up your plate. What about you boys? Dr.Reeves, you’re looking a little peaked, if I might be so bold.”
“He hasn’t eaten,” Joel said.
Sam opened his mouth to argue, but Betsy was already fixing him a plate, too.
Rita sat, eyeing Sam and Joel cautiously.
“I’m Joel Haley,” Joel said, extending his hand over the table.
Rita shook it, still wary. “The prosecutor on my mom’s case?”
“Yes. I was hoping to set up some time that you can come to my office. We’ll get your formal statement.”
Rita glanced at Harlan, who nodded. “Okay,” she said. “When?”
“Tomorrow, if you can swing it. When are you done with school?”
Rita sucked in a harsh breath, her expression closing. “Today.”
Harlan sighed. “We might be in a homeschool situation. We’ll see.”
Rita had dropped her gaze to her hands. At some point she’d pulled a small carving from a pocket because she was holding it in one hand and stroking it with the other. It was an oyster, wide open with a pearl inside.
“That’s a pretty carving,” Sam commented quietly. “I’ve never seen one like it.”
Again the girl’s gaze shifted to Harlan. “Mr.McK made it for me. My name means ‘pearl.’ ”
Sam smiled at her. “Then it’s a priceless gift.”
Harlan stroked a big hand over the girl’s hair. “Just like our Rita.”
Rita dropped her gaze again, and Harlan’s eyes grew sad. This child’s pain was palpable, and Sam wanted to help her but wasn’t sure what to say.
“Let me call Kit and we’ll sort this out.” Harlan excused himself into the living room, leaving the table quiet.
Rita started in on the plate Betsy put in front of her, pausing when a standard poodle sauntered in like it owned the place. “Snick,” Rita said reprovingly. “You’re not supposed to be in the kitchen.”
“Only when I’m cooking,” Betsy said. “She can come in when you’re eating unless you don’t want her to.”
Rita’s free hand found the dog’s curly head. “No. She can stay.”
“Snick?” Sam asked.
“Short for Snickerdoodle,” Betsy said. “Kit’s dog. Left her here last night because Snick had fallen asleep with Rita.”
