Page 1

Chapter 1

JO

* * *

Remy Daniels sat on the edge of the beanbag chair, sneakers barely touching the carpet, hands folded so tightly her knuckles had gone pale.

She’d been like that the whole session. Polite. Careful. Watching me.

“You can pick any marker you want,” I said gently, sliding the box closer. “There’s no wrong one.”

She glanced at the door, then back at the markers. After a moment, she chose purple. She smiled slightly and just looked at the marker for a moment.

Progress.

My office at the elementary school was small and warm—neutral walls, low shelves with toys, soft lighting. Nothing clinical. There were some funny cartoons on the walls.

I sat cross-legged on the floor across from her, notebook on my knee. Remy drew slowly. A house, then a tree. Behind the normal, a dark plume of smoke curled into the sky. Her anxiety was right there.

I chose a pink pencil and started sketching a flower, then a sun, then a silly dog with his butt in the air. I let Remy see it, but said nothing.

Silence is uncomfortable for adults. Kids need it.

“My dad says the fires are done,” she said finally.

I nodded but continued to sketch. “That’s right. The fire is completely out now.”

She glanced at me. “They might come back.”

I shrugged a little. “They might. But they might not, too. Sometimes when something scary happens, our brains stay on alert. Even when it’s quiet around us.”

She pressed harder with the marker. “I don’t like sleeping.”

“Because of the dreams?”

She nodded.

I motioned to the feelings chart. “Can you point to the one that fits best when you’re in bed at night?”

Her finger hovered, then landed on scared.

“Thank you for telling me. That takes courage.”

Her shoulders relaxed slightly.

There was a knock at the door. My eyes flicked to the clock. He was five minutes early. I drew in a steadying breath.

“Come in.”

Deputy Lane Daniels stepped inside.

He filled the doorway—tall and lean. He was at least a couple of inches over six feet, and his tan uniform fit him like it was sewn on. If there was no bullet-proof vest, she had a feeling she would be able to see every ab muscle through the fabric. He removed the tan cowboy hat from his head when he entered the room, and the dark brown hair beneath was crimped a little where the brim had rested. The badge on his chest caught the light.

His expression was neutral, but his gaze went straight to Remy.

“Daddy.” She jumped up immediately. Seeing him always made her the most animated.

He crouched to her level without a word. “Hey, peanut.”