“He’s in the shower.” Olivia climbed to the top of one of the bar stools at the counter’s edge, the blanket falling from her small shoulders. Bruising darkened in thick patches across the girl’s pale skin, the stitches across the laceration in her head somehow more pronounced now. It’d been ten hours since Olivia and her twin brother had been kidnapped. Leaving only fourteen to get him back. “He doesn’t know I’m awake, but I didn’t want to sleep anymore.”
“I see.” After pulling the dry ingredients from the pantry, a few eggs and butter from the fridge, Ana set them out on the granite-topped island. Offering Olivia a whisk, she set about measuring the ingredients into a large bowl. “Well, I won’t tell him you’re out of bed when you’re supposed to be resting if you don’t tell him how much of this dough will actually be made into cookies. Deal?”
“Deal.” Olivia took the whisk from her and attacked the ingredients as fast as she could. Flour, egg and sugar flew over the edges of the bowl onto the countertop, her laugh rising over the sounds of the metal whisk scraping against the bottom of the bowl.
“Okay. Take it slow. Slower.” Ana automatically shot her hands out to save what was left of the batter. But after a few seconds nearly the entire contents of the bowl were spread across Olivia’s stained pajamas, the countertop, and flecked into Ana’s hair. Just witnessing the brightness in the girl’s eyes after she’d had to suffer so much hurt lightened the persisting knot coiling tighter at the base of Ana’s spine. In the next second the girl pulled the whisk up straight, big globs of unmixed ingredients dripping over as her smile flashed wide. Warning exploded through Ana’s system. “No, no, no, no. I don’t think so. Olivia, I swear, if you fling that at me, you’re going to be in so much trouble—”
With a flick of Olivia’s wrist, the batter flew straight across the island.
Gooey pieces of egg and dried blobs of batter slammed into Ana’s face, then dropped down onto her clean shirt and the floor. Santa madre de... An exaggerated growl tore from her throat as she dashed through the kitchen to the other side of the counter. Feigned seriousness tainted her words. “I’m going to get you for that. I just changed into this shirt!”
Faster than she thought possible, Olivia jumped from the stool and ran to escape, the whisk still in her hand. Grabbing a spatula from the countertop, Ana scooped a chunk of cookie mix onto the utensil, then flung it across the kitchen. Olivia froze, her eyes and mouth wide. “Bull’s-eye.”
The next few minutes passed in a blur of flying cookie dough and laughs until both of them were too tired to move. Settling onto the floor, their backs against the island cabinets, Ana positioned the bowl of finished dough between them with two spoons. She fought to catch her breath. Over eight hundred hours of physically demanding firearms training and tactical operations, and she’d been worn out by a six-year-old with a penchant for mystery novels. Chunks of dough fell from cabinets across from them, but there would be plenty of time to clean up. Later. Right now they’d enjoy the sugar rush. The stitches in her side ached as her lungs struggled to keep up with her heart. “Whew. You, my friend, are a worthy opponent. I think you hit me way more times than I hit you.”
Olivia scooped a spoonful of dough into her mouth. “I always win when me and Owen play Nerf guns. I’m a way better shooter than he is.”
Ana set down her spoon. She’d been trained in child forensic interview techniques, the protocols running through her head. When it came to questioning children who’d been part of a crime or witnessed a crime, it was best to take it slow. She’d already developed a rapport with the girl, but there was a chance that not only wouldn’t Olivia want to remember what’d happened to her brother but also couldn’t because of the head trauma she’d sustained. Just as her doctors had diagnosed. “Can we talk about your brother? About what happened after that man took you away from your dad?”
The girl’s chewing slowed, those bright blue eyes that matched her dad’s losing a bit of light. Sliding her heels toward her rear, Olivia went back in for another scoop of dough, but something had changed. Could she have remembered something? Hesitation and nervousness played strong across her expression. Her heart-shaped lips rolled between her teeth. “I don’t remember anything.”
“Okay.” But it certainly looked like Olivia was keeping something to herself. “But you know not even your favorite Sherlock Holmes can solve a case unless she has all the information she needs. I would really like to find your brother for you, Olivia. For you and your dad. Isn’t that what you want?”
“No!” The girl shoved to her feet, throwing the spoon as hard as she could across the kitchen. Those ringlet curls bounced off her shoulders as she dashed across the house.
“Olivia, wait!” Ana ran after her.
“Olivia, what are you doing out of bed?” Benning’s soothing voice preceded the rest of him. His damp, glistening bare chest reflected the droplets of water dripping from his shoulder-length hair. He lowered into a crouch to catch his daughter around the waist, dressed in nothing but a pair of jeans, and Ana’s heart threatened to beat out of her chest. Familiar blue eyes, immediately darker in that instant, locked on her. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
Sobs racked through Olivia’s body as the girl buried her head between Benning’s neck and shoulder, and Ana
