were probably none. It was more likely her own paranoia, always on the prowl. She usually could hold it at bay, but there were times when it simply took over and she was powerless to do anything but feel its paralyzing grip.
She wished fervently, like she always did, that she could change the past, but it was impossible. Sheâd lost her mother and huge parts of her lifeâdays, weeks, months, yearsâand there was no getting them back. She could still remember the policemanâs probing questions after sheâd woken from her trauma-induced coma. She was in a hospital with its bad smells and gray walls.
âDid you see anything when you were in the kitchen?â heâd demanded. She didnât know he was a policeman at first. He didnât have the clothes of a policeman.
âI saw Mama.â She forced the words out. Her lips quivered uncontrollably.
âAnything else? Something?â He threw an impatient look toward the woman whoâd come with him. A social worker of some kind, she knew now, but she hadnât understood at the time.
Livvieâs quivering lips were replaced by out-and-out sobs.
âUseless,â he muttered.
âSheâs just a child,â the woman responded tautly.
He turned back to Livvie. âThe back door was open. Did you notice that?â
She nodded jerkily.
âDid you walk outside? Look outside?â
âNOOOOOOOO!â
âCalm down,â he told her. âWas there anyoneâanyoneâaround?â
âH-Hague was in his bed,â she stuttered, plucking at the covers. âHeâhe started crying. . . .â
âAny adults! â His mouth was smashed together like he was holding back something mean to say.
She felt the tears rain down and the woman walked over to her, patted her hand, glared at the man and said, âLet the poor child be!â
âMaybe her mother killed herself because she knew something about those dead women out in the field behind her house.â
âShhhh.â The womanâs mouth was a flat line, too, but Livvie was glad to see it, understanding that it was for him, not her.
âOr, maybe somebody thought she knew something and decided to take care of her himself ?â
The woman marched right over to him and said in a low voice, âThis child found her mother! It was suicide, and it was tragic, and sheâs been terribly traumatized. Try to remember that.â
He gave her a mean, mean look, and said, âIâm trying to catch a killer. You should try and remember that .â
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With the hindsight of age Liv now realized the man had been a plainclothes policeman with the small Rock Springs police force and completely out of his realm working with children. But that didnât excuse him. And he hadnât given up after that first interview. Oh, no. Heâd come back to the house as soon as sheâd gotten out of the hospital. By that time she and Hague had a neighbor woman taking care of them but Liv would not go into the kitchen. She was in the den when the officer came to interview her, and this time she was on her own with him . . . and the panic started to rise.
He tried a little harder, but Liv had lost trust completely.
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âTry to think back to the night your mom died,â he told her, smiling at her through his teeth. She recognized that he was trying to be kind, but his smile just creeped her out all the more.
âOkay,â she said in a small voice.
âDonât think about your mom. Think about the kitchen.â
Panic swelled. She saw the table and the sink and the window. âIt was really dark. The outside was coming in,â she said.
âYes. The back door was open,â the officer said, nodding. âDo you know who went out the door?â
âMy dad?â
âYou think your dad went through the door?â
âMama was holding her face.â
âYour dad told me they had