The Target

pediatrician. Her fingers were crossed when, after introductions were made, Dr. Loo turned to Emma. She just smiled at her, then said, "Let me sit down, Emma. My leg makes me a bit awkward and the cast is heavy. At least it doesn't hurt much anymore. I broke it skiing. It was a beautiful fall, right off a twelve-foot cliff. Everyone said I looked so graceful sailing off that cliff. I don't suppose you ski?"

    "My mama does. I'm learning." Emma didn't move, just stood there between Ramsey and Molly.

    "You've had three lessons, kiddo," Molly said. "You're going to be very good. Maybe you'll be lucky and not go sailing off a cliff, but it happens. Remember when I strained the ligaments in my right knee?"

    "Yes, Mama. You had to have physical therapy."

    "Me too," said Dr. Loo. "I'll ski again, but not for another year. I miss it. Now, Emma, why don't you come over here and sit by me?"

    Emma didn't move. She tightened her hold on Ramsey's hand.

    Ramsey said easily, "Tell you what, Dr. Loo, why don't I just let Emma sit on my lap for a while. Is that all right?"

    "Sure thing. I understand that you're a very smart girl, Emma. Your mama told me that you escaped from this bad man all by yourself, that you thought it all through and figured out what to do."

    Emma was frozen. Ramsey couldn't even hear her breathe. But he forced himself to keep quiet, to wait. He supposed he'd expected the shrink to go easier, to ease into Emma's experience, not just dive in, face first.

    Dr. Loo said, "How did you figure out how to escape?"

    Emma licked her lips. It was the first movement she'd made. Ramsey wanted so much to pull her against him and cover her with his arms, protect her, but he knew there was no protection when the wound was raw and deep, all on the inside. He looked at Molly. Her face was white and set. She was trying to look relaxed, but she wasn't succeeding. Her hands were fists on the chair arms.

    Emma said in a small reflective voice, "I thought and thought."

    Ramsey felt as if he'd been punched in the gut. Emma's voice was a whisper of sound. He was surprised any of them even heard her words.

    Dr. Loo waited for more, but Emma didn't say any more. Dr. Loo said then, "You thought well. How long did you think about it?"

    "All that day. But I didn't know how I could get the string off my hands, and then he forgot. He just forgot and went outside to smoke."

    "Then what did you do?"

    Emma was pressed so tightly against his chest that Ramsey wondered if he shouldn't intervene. He was on the point of opening his mouth when Emma said in that same whispery soft little voice, "I jumped off the bed. It was real dirty. He wasn't wearing his glasses. When he came back he thought the pillow was me. I crawled out the front door."

    "You were barefoot?"

    Emma thought. "No, I knew I had to run, so I put on my sneakers. I put them on after I was outside."

    "Did he drink very much?"

    "I counted four empty bottles. I didn't have anything to do, so I counted them. They were really big."

    "How long did it take him to drink those four bottles?"

    "Five days."

    "That's how many days it was until you escaped?"

    "Yes," Emma said, her voice not quite so choked now.

    "Were there certain times of the day or night that he drank out of those bottles?"

    It was loud, that mewling sound that ripped Ramsey's guts. She was trembling, wheezing for breath, making those awful sounds. "No, no, sweetheart," Ramsey said, pressing his cheek to hers, holding her tightly, rocking her, keeping her close and closer still. "It's all right. You're safe now, with me and your mama. If Dr. Loo had been there I bet she would have kicked that miserable man in his butt."

    "That's right, Em. She would have kicked him with her cast. That would really hurt."

    The mewling sounds stopped.

    "Emma?" It was Dr. Loo. Emma didn't say anything, just pressed closer to Ramsey's chest. "I would have kicked him really hard. Count on it."

    Emma jerked. Then, slowly, she raised her head. She looked at her mother, at Ramsey, then at Dr. Loo. "Mama wanted to shoot him," she said at last. "She might have shot Ramsey if I hadn't said something."

    "You did well, kiddo," Molly said. "You did really well."

    "Can you answer another question for me, Emma?"

    The little girl looked at her clearly now. "I don't want to but I know that my mama wants me to, and Ramsey."

    "Yes, but only if it doesn't make you sick afraid. Okay?"

    "Okay."

    "Was this man who kept you at the