Page 23 of The Fixer

Eliza's face pinched and she scooted toward the end of the bed. I took a step toward her and she froze. “Why do you keep asking me this?”

I got down on my knees. Shuffled toward her with slow movements, hands raised to my sides to show her I was no threat. When I was close, when my body begged me to get closer but hers screamed for me to get back, I stopped.

“Eliza, Mr. Jingles was poisoned.”

“What?” She sucked in a sharp breath, hands drawing to her lips.

Reaching for her wrists, I pulled her hands down to her lap. Held her there as I searched out the hidden golden specks. “She was poisoned. All that vomit, the mess she was in.... There was enough arsenic in her to kill a full-sized man.”

“No,” she whimpered, tears collecting in her eyes. Her shoulders curled in and there was nothing in the world strong enough to keep me from pulling her into my arms.

My voice was a murmur, my lips at her ear as she wound herself around me, her cheek pressed to mine. “I’m trying to figure out what happened. And I’m sorry that I snapped at you earlier, Eliza. I’m sorry if I frightened you. When you told me how you found your cat, I knew something was wrong.”

“How?” she asked, just a whisper.

“It’s what I do.” It was vague, and I was an asshole for giving her an answer like that. But somehow, she accepted the only thing I could give her, holding on to me as she cried.

* * *

Both coffee and sunshine pulled me from my too-short slumber. The rich scent tickled my nose as the sun doused my face in light. I stretched my aching back, scrubbed my hands down my face. When I opened my eyes, I was met with melted chocolate speckled with gold.

“You’re awake.”

The girl shrugged her shoulders, then raised her coffee mug to her lips. “You stayed,” she said as I sat up, then rose to go to her side.

In the chair beside her at the kitchen table, I etched the worry lines on her face into my memory. “I didn’t want to leave. Not if you might need me.”

She watched the dark coffee swirl around in her cup. I wanted to know if the shyness she showed came naturally, or if it had been ingrained in her at some point in her life.

“You’re out of creamer.”

She nodded and the dimple in her right cheek caved in. “You remembered.”

“Mmm.” My fingers curled around her jaw, my thumb grazing her dimpled skin as I raised her face until her eyes found mine. “A hint of cream. Caramel syrup would make you happy as a clam.”

Eliza’s eyes dropped to my lips, and I tongued the corner of my mouth, wiping away the sticky web of lies that clung to every word I never said.

“Shall we get you some? You have no food in the house.” I released her chin and felt her gaze as it dripped down my chest to the pair of athletic shorts that were the only thing I wore.

“You’re not dressed.”

“But I can be.” I motioned to my bag beside the couch. “And I’m starving.”

“What do you want?”

Her question was as innocent as they come, but my mind swirled down a dark hole of indecent thoughts. “Cinnamon sugar cookies.”

Quiet laughter rang like bells, and she pushed her too-black coffee onto the table beside her. “Christmas is still months away.”

“I’m a patient man.” I stood, and I hated the way she shrank as I towered over her. I extended my hand to take hers and pull her to her feet. “Go get dressed. There’s somewhere we need to be.”

“Does it involve coffee?”

“And breakfast. You need to eat so you can keep your mind sharp.”

An earnest nod bobbed her head. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

With the girl closed in her bedroom to change, I dumped her bitter brew down the sink before washing the mug, then grabbed my go bag off the floor. I’d tugged on my shirt, was standing to pull my pants up my legs, when Eliza’s door swung open and her head popped out.