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“I know. I’m sorry.”
“I crawled through the blood.” Eyes huge and glassy, she held out her smeared hands. “Blood.”
“Are you hurt, Nixie? Did they see you? Did they hurt you?”
“They killed, they killed—” When Peabody turned into the room, Nixie screamed as if she’d been stabbed. And launched herself into Eve’s arms.
Peabody stopped short, kept her voice very calm, very quiet. “I’ll call Child Protection. Is she injured?”
“Not that I can see. Shocky, though.”
It felt awkward holding a child, but Eve wrapped her arms around Nixie and got to her feet. “She saw it. We’ve got not only a survivor, but an eye witness.”
“We’ve got a nine-year-old kid who saw—” Peabody spoke in undertones as Nixie wept on Eve’s shoulder, and jerked her head toward the bedroom.
“I know. Here, take her and—” But when Eve tried to peel Nixie away, the child only wrapped herself tighter.
“I think you’re going to have to.”
“Hell. Call CPS, get somebody over here. Start a record, room by room. I’ll be back in a minute.”
She’d hoped to pass the kid to one of the uniforms, but Nixie seemed glued to her now. Resigned, and wary, she carted Nixie down to the first floor, looked for a neutral spot, and settled on what looked like a playroom.
“I want my mom. I want my mom.”
“Yeah, I got that. But here’s the thing: You’ve got to let go. I’m not going to leave you, but you gotta loosen the grip.”
“Are they gone?” Nixie pushed her face into Eve’s shoulder. “Are the shadows gone?”
“Yes. You have to let go, sit down here. I have to do a couple of things. I need to talk to you.”
“What if they come back?”
“I won’t let them. I know this is hard. The hardest.” At wit’s end, she sat on the floor with Nixie still clinging to her. “I need to do a job, that’s how I can help. I need to . . .” Jesus. “I need to get a sample from your hand, and then you can clean up. You’d feel better if you got cleaned up, right?”
“I got their blood . . .”
“I know. Here, this is my field kit. I’m just going to take a swab for evidence. And I need to take a recording. Then you can go to the washroom over there and clean up. Record on,” Eve said, quietly, then eased Nixie back. “You’re Nixie Swisher, right? You live here?”
“Yeah, I want—”
“And I’m Lieutenant Dallas. I’m going to swab your hand here, so you can clean up. It won’t hurt.”
“They killed my mom and my dad.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Did you see who they were? How many there were?”
“I have their blood on me.”
Sealing the swab, Eve looked at the child. She remembered what it was to be a little girl, covered in blood not her own. “How about you wash up?”
“I can’t.”
“I’ll help you. Maybe you want a drink or something. I can—” And when Nixie burst into tears, Eve’s eyes began to ache.
“What? What?”
“Orange Fizzy.”
