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She nodded. “Griffin—he told me to call him Griffin—he has big hands. He’s warm and solid. I think he’s a nice man, but I don’t know yet if he’s as tough as I am.”
“Griffin’s as tough as my beagle’s old chew rope. Do you feel relaxed? Safe?”
She felt Griffin’s fingers lightly stroke the back of her hand.
“Yes.” Her voice was slow and easy.
Dr. Hicks leaned close. “I want you to remember that night, Kirra, I want you to relive what happened. No, don’t stiffen up. Never forget, everything you remember happened a long time ago. Those men can’t hurt you. We’ll keep you safe. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I understand.”
Dr. Hicks nodded to Griffin. Griffin said, “Kirra, I want you to go back. It’s July, and you’re twelve years old. It was a hot day, a hot night. Tell me about that day, start at the beginning.”
Her voice began to subtly change, lighten. Stranger yet, her voice was younger. “Mom braided my hair so it wouldn’t be hot on my neck. I was watching TV when Dad told me to put on my sneakers. He wanted to show me something outside.” Her breathing hitched.
He gently squeezed her hand, let her settle. “What did you do then?”
“I went outside, but I didn’t see my dad. I went back into the house to look for him. I heard him and Mom talking in the kitchen. They were talking real quiet, like they were sharing secrets, and I moved closer. I heard Dad tell Mom not to worry, to trust him. He said he knew what he was doing, that he’d have the money they needed so she could have her operation and be just fine. But I heard Mom’s worry voice. I sneaked a peek around the door. Mom was standing by the stove wringing her hands and there were lines between her eyes, worry lines.” Kirra raised her fingers and touched the skin between her eyebrows. “I didn’t understand. Mom needed an operation? What operation did my mother need? But they didn’t say.”
“Did your dad tell your mother where he was getting the money?”
She shook her head. “I heard Mom coming so I ran back outside. Later, I—I was afraid to ask my dad what it was all about, he’d know I was eavesdropping.”
Her parents were murdered on the very same day she’d overheard them talking? She hadn’t told Griffin that. Is that why the men had tried to kill her, too, because of what she might have known?
Griffin said, “It’s late now. You’re in your bed.”
“Yes, it’s really hot so I’d opened the window. I’m wearing my favorite pink sleep shorts and top mom bought me at Target.”
Griffin kept his voice low and calm. “You wake up. Why?”
“I have to go to the bathroom.”
“You come back to bed. You’re nearly asleep when you hear something?”
She began to twist in the chair, shaking her head, looked ready to leap out of it and hide. Griffin again squeezed her hand. “Kirra, this happened a long time ago, fourteen years ago. You’re here with me now and with Dr. Hicks. You’re safe. These are only memories. Don’t be afraid.”
She swallowed. A child’s voice said, “I hear footsteps on the stairs, coming up, not going down, so I know it’s not my parents. I can tell they’re trying to be quiet but some of the stairs creak.”
“You know it’s more than one person on the stairs?”
“Yes. There’s one creak then a second later there’s another creak on the same stair.” She moaned, shook her head. Griffin stroked her hand, spoke low to her. “You’re safe, I promise you’re safe. What do you do?”
She became still again. The girl whispered, “I get up. My heart’s pounding and I want to puke. My door’s open and I ease it wider, I don’t want to, but I have to—and I see them, two large shadows. They’re holding their arms out in front of them and I see the guns, the guns are leading them. I see them go toward my parents’ bedroom. I turn back into my bedroom, grab my cell phone and dial 911, and then I hear two popping sounds and I know what they are, what it means. I want to yell and I nearly scream. I slap my hand over my mouth to keep it in. I want to run to my parents’ bedroom, but I know there’s nothing I can do. I tell the 911 man what’s happened and he tells me to get out of the house and run and hide. The world’s crazy-spinning, it’s exploding. I climb out my bedroom window and down the big oak tree. I hear a man’s voice from above me. He’s leaning out the window. There’s a popping sound and I feel a sharp pain in my head that nearly knocks me off the limb, but I know I can’t stop or I’ll be dead like my mom and dad. I’m crying and nearly fall, but I don’t. I hurt my arm, I don’t know how. All I know is my head and my arm are bleeding. I jump to the ground and run toward the woods.
“I know my parents are dead, deep down, I know. It’s hot, but I’m shivering, my teeth are chattering.” Kirra began to rub her head where she’d been shot, keening now, a helpless, wounded young girl, in shock.
“You were very brave, Kirra,” Griffin said. “Jeter found you in your cave?”
Her young voice sounded infinitely weary, pain leaching through it. “I’m so afraid when this strange man crawls into the cave. I think he’s there to kill me, but he didn’t, he saved me. Jeter saved me. I owe him my life.”
He very probably had saved her life. Griffin said, “Go back a moment. When you’re climbing down the oak tree, do you hear another voice?”
“Yes, a horrible, vicious voice. I still hear it sometimes, but then it fades away. I see the little bitch. Let me do her.”
“When this man says those words, does he sound old, young, foreign?”
“It’s not a man.”
