Gingerbread Man

I'll have someone get you some tea, huh? Chamomile is supposed to be calming—"
    "Chamomile?" To her own ears her voice sounded brittle. But she couldn't help that. "Jesus Christ, Vince, my worst nightmare just rose up from the dead to smack me in the face. Chamomile isn't gonna cut it. I'm not sure fucking Thorazine would cut it, but I'm willing to give it a shot."
    His hands closed on her arms, and he hauled her to her feet so fast her head snapped backward. His hands on her arms were hard. His face, harder. "Don't you bail on me now, goddamn it."
    "Why the hell not? You knew I would. You wouldn't let yourself feel anything for me because you knew I would. Remember? You couldn't handle getting involved with a fucked-up female. A headcase like me who might need you too much. Remember, Vince? Turns out your instincts were right. You ought to be celebrating."
    "I would be. If I'd listened to them." He let her go.
    She sank onto the sofa, landing heavily. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
    "You figure it out. You clear the cobwebs out of your head, stand up like you ought to, stop acting like a victim, and figure it out." He retrieved the empty cup he'd dropped on the sofa beside her, moved past her to the coffee pot and filled it. Then he turned and headed back through the reception area toward the cell in the back where he'd left the chief with Reggie D'Voe. At the doorway, though, he stopped and looked back at her. "Stop focusing on yourself Holly. Think about Val Stevens. Think about Bethany, for Christ's sake. There are other people here in far worse shape than you are right now. Take a look around."
    She watched him go. Then she glanced at the waiting room around her. She had thought herself alone. She wasn't. Might as well have been, though. Amanda sat sideways in a chair in the corner, knees curled up, arms wrapped around them. Her eyes were vacant. As if she hadn't heard a damned thing.
    Beyond the doorway, Vince, Jerry, and the chief were questioning Reggie. Holly leaned forward a little, and she could see them at the far end of the hall in the cell there. The cell door was open. Inside it, on a hard chair, Reggie was pale and trembling.
    The sound of Ivy's screams had been echoing in Holly's ears more loudly than they ever had for over an hour. But now empathy for what Amanda and her uncle were going through crept into its place. The screams faded into the past where they belonged. Holly got to her feet and her knees gave. She caught herself on the arm of the sofa, pushed herself up again, snapped her knees straight. With one hand, she swiped the tears from her cheeks. It stung when she wiped her eyes. She'd cried so much they were raw. "Okay," she whispered. "Okay, I have to try." Her feet wanted to scuff the floor when she walked. They felt so heavy. She forced her legs to move, to propel her forward. Into the back, into the storage closet. She took out blankets, two of them. She carried one to the cell. The door was open. She shook the folds out of the blanket, and draped it over Reggie's shoulders the way she had seen his devoted niece do so often.
    He glanced up at her once. Gratitude flickered briefly from behind the mask of horror he wore. She didn't look at Vince. She didn't want to see him and be reminded how badly she had probably blown things with him by falling apart the way she had. Turning, she made her way back to the reception room. She tucked the second blanket around Amanda.
    "Can I get you anything?"
    Amanda kept rocking, but she did pull the blanket close around her, burrowing into it as if for protection. It occurred to Holly that she might be the one in need of some magic pills right now.
    "Amanda?" Holly shook her gently.
    Amanda's distracted gaze flickered, darted toward Holly. "We have to find that little girl," she said softly, urgently. "We have to. We have to."
    "I know, Amanda. We will." Holly lowered her gaze. "Dr. Graycloud will be coming by soon. He took Val Stevens to the hospital. But he'll be here once he gets her settled in."
    Amanda shook her head slowly. "He can't help."
    "No? Then, who can? I mean, if you want to talk through it..."
    She closed her eyes. Nodded hard. "Yes."
    Holly felt stronger when she looked at the woman in the chair, how fragile and on the edge she seemed. More so than Holly had been. Maybe Vince was right. Maybe she could at least
pretend
to be the strong one here— because there was no one else to do it. And someone had to. There were