the little girl, Maddy clung to her father, tightening her grip around his neck. Sam gave his mother an apologetic look and kissed her forehead, then crossed to Kristen and Foley. “I thought you’d still be at the house.”
“We were hoping to talk to the girls,” Foley said.
“Cissy’s still unconscious. They’ve called in a helicopter to take her to Birmingham.” Sam’s eyes darkened with anger. “If I ever get my hands on the son of a bitch who did this—”
“What about your daughter?” Foley pressed.
Sam looked at Kristen rather than Foley. “Can’t it wait?”
She wanted to say yes. The last thing she wanted to do was spend any more time with Sam Cooper’s little girl. But questions had to be asked, and for better or worse, she and Foley were the ones who’d been assigned to ask them. “I think the sooner we can talk to her, the more we’ll get from her, while it’s fresh in her mind.”
He looked at her for a long moment, his expression hard to read. It softened a bit, finally, and he gave a short nod.
Foley glanced at Kristen, a question in his eyes.
“I’ll talk to the family,” she said. “You handle the kid.”
Sam Cooper looked at Kristen through narrowed eyes, his irritation evident. “Don’t like children?”
“They don’t like me,” Kristen answered shortly, wondering why his clear disapproval bothered her so much. “Foley has kids. He knows how to handle them.”
Sam’s expression darkened further, but his next words were directed at his daughter. “Maddy, this is Detective Foley. He wants to ask you some questions.”
Maddy buried her face in her father’s neck and shook her head. “No, Daddy!”
“Look, why don’t we wait until tomorrow—” Sam began.
“The sooner we do this, the more she’ll remember,” Foley said. He took a step toward Maddy, softening his voice. “Maddy, sweetheart? I have a little girl just your age. Do you want to see a picture of her?”
“No!” Maddy’s voice was muffled by her father’s collar.
Foley looked at Kristen, his expression helpless. “You give it a try.”
“No,” Kristen said in unison with Sam.
Foley arched one eyebrow.
“She doesn’t like kids.” Sam’s voice tightened.
“They don’t like me,” Kristen repeated, annoyed.
“Maddy, will you talk to Detective Tandy?” Foley asked, ignoring them both.
Maddy turned her head slightly, peeking out from under her father’s chin at Kristen. “Her?”
Foley nodded.
Maddy pressed her face against her father’s throat again, to Kristen’s relief. But a moment later, the little girl nodded, and Kristen’s heart sank. No way to avoid it now.
With resignation, she gestured toward the emergency room waiting area. “Let’s find a quiet corner.”
Sam Cooper gave her a warning look, as if he suspected the sole purpose of the requested interview was to further traumatize his daughter. She ignored his clear discomfort and led the way to the chairs tucked into the corner of the waiting room. Sam settled into one of the chairs, Maddy curled on his lap. Kristen pulled her chair around to face them. Maddy gazed back at her with solemn green eyes, her face still pink from crying. Teardrops glittered on her long lashes like diamonds.
“You saw the bad man who hurt Cissy, didn’t you, Maddy?”
She heard Sam’s soft inhalation but ignored it, keeping her eyes on the little girl. Slowly, Maddy nodded.
“Was he tall like your daddy?”
Maddy shook her head. She lifted one thumb to her mouth and laid it on her lower lip but didn’t start sucking it. She craned her head to look up at her father.
The look of heartbroken love Sam Cooper gave his daughter made Kristen’s breath catch. She looked away, a phantom pain jabbing her under her rib cage like a knife. Licking her lips, she pressed on. “So he wasn’t tall. Was he short like me?” She stood up so Maddy could see her height.
The little girl considered the question for a moment, then shook her head again. “Bigger.”
“Was he skinny like Uncle J.D.?” Sam asked.
“No, Daddy. Like Uncle Aaron.”
Sam met Kristen’s eyes over the top of his daughter’s head. “My brother Aaron. You may know him—he’s a Chickasaw County Sheriff’s Deputy. A little taller than me, built like a bulldog. Played football at ’Bama till he blew out his knee.”
“Yeah, I’ve met him before,” Kristen said. She turned her attention back to Maddy. “So he’s shorter than your daddy and about your Uncle Aaron’s size. Did you see his hair color?”
She shook her head. “Had a daddy hat.”
Kristen looked to Sam for translation.
He gave a helpless shrug. “I guess she means a baseball cap. That’s the only kind of hat I ever wear.”
Maddy looked up at her father again, her eyes welling up with new tears. “He made Cissy cry, Daddy.”
Sam’s eyes glittered as he stroked his daughter’s dark curls. “I know, baby. That’s why we need to find out who he is and make sure he doesn’t ever do that again.” He looked at Kristen. “I don’t think she remembers much about it.”
“Did you notice anything special about him? Did he have freckles or moles or scars—?” With a bracing breath, Kristen held out her right hand and showed it to Maddy. “This is a scar, Maddy. See that?”
Maddy looked solemnly at the burned skin on the back of Kristen’s hand, then up at Kristen. “Does it hurt?”
“Not anymore.” She avoided Sam’s gaze. “Did the man have anything like this?”
Maddy shook her head.
“What happened?” Sam’s gaze lingered on the scar burned into her hand.
She looked up, surprised. He didn’t know? She forced her gaze back to Maddy, ignoring Sam’s question. “How did you get into the closet, Maddy?”
“Cissy told me to run so I runned.” Her little brow furrowed. “I couldn’t get the back door to open.”
“Locked,” Sam said. “She doesn’t know how to unlock it.”
“So I runned up to the secret place.”
A chill darted up Kristen’s spine, scattering goose bumps along her back and arms. Her stomach twisted,
