his blond hair graying. His partner, in contrast, had to be over six feet and was strongly built. His skin was bronzed, whether from sun or genetics, and he had black hair and dark eyes.
His eyes as well as Risvold’s latched on to Chloe with an intensity that made Trina want to shrink back. Her arms tightened protectively.
“I already talked to the arson investigator,” she said. “I’m sure he’ll give you his report.”
Detective Risvold slid one of the plastic chairs to face hers, and sat down with a sigh. Deperro hung back. Good cop, bad cop?
“I’m sure he will, but his job has a different focus than ours,” Risvold said. “So I’d like you to tell us what you saw and heard.”
“Just a minute.” She stood up with Chloe in her arms and left the cubicle. Several people glanced up from where they sat at the nurses’ station. “Excuse me. The police are here to talk to me. Is there any chance someone could hold Chloe for a few minutes so she doesn’t have to be there?”
A motherly looking nurse leaped up and volunteered.
“You won’t take your eyes off her for a second?”
“Promise.”
Fortunately, the little girl was still asleep, a deadweight when Trina transferred her to the other woman’s arms.
Then she returned to the cubicle, where she repeated her story briefly.
“You hadn’t seen anyone hanging around?” Risvold asked. “No car parked on your block that didn’t look familiar? Think hard, Ms. Marr.”
She was really tempted to remind him that she was actually Dr. Marr. Not something she usually insisted on, but this man’s condescension raised her hackles. “The answer is no. I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.”
“The faster we’re able to hear what, er, Chloe saw, the sooner you’ll both be safe.”
Hurting, scared and mad, Trina said, “If I were you, I wouldn’t make her your focus right now. For one thing, it’s obvious your wandering crazy is off the table as a suspect.”
“What do you mean?” Gee, Detective Deperro spoke.
“I mean, would he have it together enough to understand that a small child might be able to identify him? And know where she was staying? Oh, and set the fire without a soul seeing him?”
Deperro’s jaw tightened.
She leaned toward them. “Try looking at your own department, why don’t you? It’s been nearly a month since the murders. Chloe and I have been fine. The day before yesterday, I told you she’d begun to speak, that I thought it wouldn’t be long before we could try asking her questions. Then tonight someone set my house on fire when the two of us were asleep inside. How many people knew what I told you? Who did they talk to?”
“Miss Marr... Katrina.” To his credit, Detective Deperro looked worried. “What about her day care? Is there anyone there who would have talked?”
“No,” she said flatly. “And since even you don’t know where she is, how would the killer have known who to cozy up to for news about Chloe?”
“I’m authorized to give you twenty-four-hour protection,” Risvold offered.
Even without a plan, Trina said, “Thank you, but no.”
He frowned. “But where will you go?”
Long-term? The correct answer was I have no idea. But she only shook her head.
Not two minutes after the cops had left her alone, Trina knew what she to do.
Call her brother. Three years older than her, Joseph had never let her down, any more than she would him if he ever needed her. He’d be mad if she didn’t turn to him.
Unfortunately, he’d take at least a day to reach her, but she and Chloe could surely stay with the Doughtens that long. Trina went out to check on Chloe, but the nurse smiled and rocked gently. “If you need to do anything else, she’s fine,” she whispered.
“Then I’ll make a call,” she said gratefully, and returned to her cubicle.
Her brother’s phone rang once, twice, three times. It wouldn’t be the middle of the night for him, or even the crack of dawn. Georgia was three hours ahead, which made it...eight o’clock there.
“Trina?” he said sharply.
She started to cry. She hadn’t yet but couldn’t seem to help herself now. Lifting the hem of the faded blue scrub top to wipe damp cheeks, she said, “Joseph? My house burned down.”
“What? How?”
“It was—” She had to breathe deeply to be able to finish. “Arson. It was arson.”
He swore. “Do the cops think it’s random? There’s no reason you’d be a target, is there?”
She took a deep breath. “It’s a long story.”
“Tell me,” Joseph demanded.
The story didn’t take all that long, after all. He had already known that she was now a foster mom, although she hadn’t explained the background. Now she did.
At the end, she said tentatively, “I don’t know what to do. I was hoping...” She hesitated.
“I’d come?”
The tension she heard told her the answer would be no.
“You know I want to be on the next flight to the West Coast. But I don’t see how I can. We’re wheels up tonight, Trina.”
He was the one who’d shortened her name, to their parents’ frustration. They’d been determined she would be Katrina, but ultimately even they had started dropping the first syllable.
She could call them...but she couldn’t put them in danger, either. Joseph... Joseph was different. He could handle any threat.
“I’ll wire you some money,” her brother said.
“Thanks, but... I have money. I just have to get some ID so I can claim it.”
“Okay.” He was silent long enough that she was about to open her mouth when he said in a distracted way, “I’m thinking. I can ask for an emergency leave.”
“You’d have said that in the first place if it was so easy.”
“Yeah, it’s not. We’ve been training and studying intel on this op for the last month. The major won’t be happy.”
He wasn’t supposed to have told her as much as he had. Her heart sank, but she knew what she had to say. “Then...then I’ll think of something else. I could hire a
