All right - I'm going to give this another go. I had it up, but took it down because I wasn't satisfied with it.
This is an expanded-upon deleted scene from Of Nightmares and Pinkie-Swears. I removed it from the plotline when I got stuck writing it. It takes place after Chapter 8.
I hope you enjoy!
Nick pulled up to Emily's house for his Saturday visit to find an LVPD cruiser parked in the driveway. When he walked inside, Officer Akers was in Emily's kitchen and the two were talking. Cassie and Susan sat at the table, one scowling, the other with distrustful eyes locked on the officer.
"Hello," he said in greeting, keeping his tone light.
"Hey, Stokes," said Akers, his brow furrowed. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm just visiting my friend Cassie," Nick replied. "Everything all right?"
"Seems to be," replied Akers. "A couple of the boys said they heard some commotion at the front door; when they got there the door was open but no one was around. Cassie says she saw a man stumble through the kitchen and run out the back door."
"I did see it!" she snapped angrily from her seat next to Susan. "So did Susan!"
"Enough, Cassie," said Emily in a firm tone. She looked away, continuing to scowl.
Akers handed Emily his card. "If you hear or see anything more, call 911. But if anything else about this incident comes up, give me a call," he said. "There's not much more I can do. I'll take a drive around the neighborhood and chat with a few people. Sounds like the kids are safe, so I'd say you're all right."
Emily nodded and thanked him, and then showed him out. When they left the kitchen, Nick expected Cassie to begin on her story, but she continued to scowl at the table, her arms crossed, half turned away from Susan.
"You girls fightin' again?" he asked, the answer pretty obvious.
"She always believes Susan." Cassie's voice was even and controlled, but she didn't look up at Nick. "She always takes Susan's side. When Susan takes my baseball glove, it's my fault for not keeping it safe. When Susan teases me for reading, it's my fault because I should find somewhere else to read. And now I'm telling the truth and Susan's lying, and she knows she's lying, but Miss Emily says I have an over-active imagination. It's not fair."
Nick, who knew how it felt to argue with a sibling – he had six of them – walked over and ran his hand over her dark blonde head. "Believe me, princess," he said, and she looked up at his affectionate tone, "I know exactly how you feel . . . I'm sorry."
"Can we go somewhere today?"
He nodded. "Sure."
Without another word she rose from the table and left the kitchen. Susan glared at Nick until he followed.
The moment he climbed into the truck, she handed him what looked like blank index cards. "Susan lied to that officer. She said she didn't touch the door but I saw her do it."
He could tell she was still agitated, and encouraged her to be more clear. "Why don't you tell me what happened, Cass."
"Me and Susan were in the dining room and there was really loud banging on the front door so we got up to see what it was and Robbie said someone left the door open, but Susan went to the kitchen and I followed her and there was a man with a gray ponytail. Susan saw him because she said he was drunk, and he was mumbling something but I couldn't tell what it was. He walked through the kitchen and out the back door."
"Did he see you?"
"No, we were behind him."
"What did Susan do?"
"When the man was out of the house she ran over to the door and closed and locked it. Then Miss Emily came into the kitchen and I told her what happened but Susan said there was nobody and she never touched the door but it's not true. He was walking funny and he put his hand on the counter and the door so he wouldn't fall over. I saw him and so did she and she lied to Miss Emily and that officer and they believe her and not me." She paused to catch her breath. "So while they were outside looking around and waiting for the police to come, I took the cocoa powder out of the cupboard and I lifted these." She gestured to the index cards in Nick's hands.
Nick turned them over. On the backs of the cards were several sloppily lifted fingerprints. "Cassie . . . ."
"You can do something, right? The officer laughed at me and said they don't call the CSIs for everything and he said this was a minor incident. But you can find out who was in the house by looking up these prints, can't you?"
He didn't know what to tell her. His knee-jerk reaction was to say yes, to run the prints himself, but the prints were sloppy and more than likely he wouldn't get anything. People would question why he was running prints in the first place – Mandy especially would be suspicious, since she knew how much he hated running prints. Then there was the fact that he'd need a case number and that even if they did turn up a match, the prints would be useless. Aside from the whole chain of custody mess, Cassie lived in the house, which made her a victim.
"Can't you, Nick?"
He looked up at her. Her eyes were round and worried, and held such hope and faith it almost made him wince.
"Do you feel unsafe, Cassie?"
"There was a weird guy in our house and he just walked in! How'm I supposed to feel safe?"
He caved instantly. "Okay . . . okay. I'll see what I can do. But I need you to understand some things about how these things work in real cases." As Nick drove on autopilot toward the lab he explained his concerns to Cassie and set the expectation for her that it might take a long time and ultimately he might find nothing. Cassie was dissatisfied with his answer, but at least knew that Nick was being honest with her.
With Cassie behind him, Nick knocked on Brass' office door. The police captain looked up from his desk.
"I thought you were done for the day," he said as Nick entered.
"I am," said Nick. "I need your help, though."
Brass' eyes drifted to Cassie, and then back to Nick. "She's a bit young for you."
Nick rolled his eyes, but smiled anyway. "Brass, this is my friend Cassie. Cassie, this is Captain Brass."
Brass rose and shook Cassie's little hand. "Cassie. . . . I've heard about you. How you doin', sweetheart?"
"I'm okay," replied Cassie, smiling back.
"Well, have a seat," said the captain, gesturing to the chairs in front of his desk. "What can I help you with, Nicky?"
With a deep breath, Nick plunged into an explanation of what had happened at Emily's house, and then said, "The problem is that Cassie lifted the prints, so even if I run them and find someone, there's nothing anyone can do."
"Well, that is a problem," admitted Brass. "I'm afraid the only thing to do is to get your friend to come in and talk to us."
"But she won't even admit that she saw him and I know she saw him," protested Cassie. "I don't want some creepy old man coming into our house. What if he was looking for something? What if he comes back?"
Brass was not unsympathetic, and thought for a moment, looking over the little girl. "Not feeling very safe, are you, Cassie?"
"No," she replied, shaking her head.
Brass sighed. "I can have a squad out that way check in a couple times a day at the house. I mean, it's not much . . . but for now, it'll have to do. You," he said, pointing at Nick, "will have to find a way to get Susan to come talk to us. If she doesn't, our hands are tied."
Nick nodded and looked down at Cassie. "I wish we could do more, Cass."
Her eyes filled, and she looked from Nick to Brass and back again. "I'm scared," she said in a small voice.
Nick reached over to take her hand. "Hey – you know Emily will keep you safe," he said. "She's got that house locked up so tight I don't even think Superman could get in."
She nodded and wiped away her tears. "Yeah . . . I know. I'll be okay."
"You're safe," repeated Nick. "Don't worry, okay?" She nodded and smiled bravely at him. "How 'bout we go catch a movie, get your mind off all this?"
She nodded again. "That sounds like fun."
Nick rose from his seat. "Thanks, Jim – I'll let you know if I get anywhere with Susan."
Brass nodded. "All right. Say, Cassie . . . would you let me have a minute to talk about a different case with Nick? It'll just take a second."
"Sure," she said. "Thanks, Captain Brass."
"Hey, no problem," said Brass with a smile. "Nick's right, you shouldn't worry. We'll do everything we can."
"I know," she replied, smiling. Then she went to the hallway to wait for Nick.
Once she had gone, Brass turned to Nick and said in a low voice, "You know as well as I do that whoever was in that house wants somethin' from it."
Nick agreed. "Emily says Cassie has an overactive imagination, but she doesn't make stuff up. I think Susan recognized him. I think she knows who it is."
"I'm gonna guess she's not in that foster home just because she's an orphan."
"Honestly, I don't know why she's there," said Nick. "But I do know statistics, and I know how she behaves."
Brass nodded and looked away, thinking a moment. "I think you better have Webster run those prints," he said, looking back up at Nick. "Have her keep it off the record. No guarantee that we find anything, but if we do, we at least have someone to keep tabs on."
"Will do," said Nick, looking over the sloppy prints. "I'll keep you posted."
That evening, just as he returned from a crime scene, he was accosted by an irate Mandy Webster in the hallway.
"Stokes! Is this a joke?"
In her hand she held the manila envelope into which he'd placed Cassie's prints, with a note. He shook his head, ready to explain, but she cut him off.
She shook the envelope, scowling hard at him. "Is this cocoa powder? Are you having Sanders do your dirty work again?"
He scowled back and tried to shush her. "No, just listen a minute. They were lifted by a ten year old-"
"The aforementioned Sanders?" she snapped. "You better say Sanders lifted these, Nick, because I do not have time to do kids' science experiments!"
"Settle the hell down!" he exclaimed, and then pulled her back into her print lab, where there was mercifully no one to overhear her. "Are you listening?"
Mandy took a deep breath and closed her eyes a minute. "Yes, I'm listening," she said. "Sorry, Nick – I'm just really overwhelmed right now; day shift's not pulling their weight."
"It's all right," he said. "Did you read the note?"
"'Keep it on the D. L.'?" she quoted.
He nodded. "Yeah. Just for a while you have to stay quiet about this one." Nick then gave Mandy an abbreviated explanation who Susan was, and then told her what had happened at Emily's house the previous day.
"But if Cassie lifted the prints. . . ." began Mandy.
Nick nodded in understanding. "It's a complication, but I talked to Brass about it and he's willing to keep an eye out, if you can find a match. In the meantime I have to find a way to get Susan to come in and talk to someone about what she saw."
Mandy looked over the prints again, shaking her head. "They're pretty rough, Nick."
"I know. Just do what you can, okay?"
"Okay," she agreed, and looked up at him. "Sorry for blowing up – I'll work on these tonight."
"Thanks, Mandy. I owe you one."
She smiled and headed for her equipment, ready to work. "Yes, you do, Stokes."
It was just past ten in the morning when Nick saw Mandy again, bent over a microscope in the print lab working side by side with one of the two day shift print lab techs. He knocked on the door frame, and her head popped up.
"You got my text," she said.
"I did," he replied. "You got somethin'?"
Mandy invited the day shift tech to indulge in a coffee break, and once he was gone, she pulled a folder from under a pile. "I do. Most of the prints were useless, but your friend Cassie got a pretty clear pinkie, and I got a hit in AFIS." She handed him a printout.
"Allen Bedortha," he read. "Battery, sexual assault, various drug charges. . . ." He looked up at Mandy, confused. "But I know that name, Bedortha . . . why do I know that name?" And as his eyes looked back at the paper, at the mug shot of Allen Bedortha, with his long gray ponytail, and he read the rest of the charges, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he remembered Emily's voice.
"Susan Bedortha, get a hold of yourself!"
It had been the night Cassie had a terrible nightmare, and he'd gotten a call from Emily to come calm her down. He'd carried her up to her bedroom, which she shared with Cassie, and Susan had all but attacked him when he brought her in and knelt by her bed.
A chill went through his body, and he felt a little sick. She must've thought I was there to hurt Cassie, he thought. He thought he'd understood at the time, but now it was much more clear.
"Child abuse and sex trafficking of a minor," he finished. "I'd be more than willing to bet that minor is Susan."
Mandy physically shivered. "That's horrifying."
"Yeah, you got that right."
"Why is he not in prison?"
Nick looked up at Mandy again. "Looks like he was recently released . . . I'll have to do some more checking on him. But, now that we know who we're dealing with, we can move forward. Thanks, Mandy."
"You got it, dude," she replied.
"Hey – lunch is on me today, all right? I'm just gonna wrap this up with Brass; be ready in about a half hour."
"You're on," she said with a smile as he left the print lab.
Allen Bedortha, as it turned out, was in fact Susan's father. He had been sentenced to twenty years in prison for pimping out his daughter for drug money, but he'd only served three, thanks to a rehab program and good behavior. There was a restraining order issued against his him, meant to keep Susan safe.
"But he violated that," said Nick to Brass a few moments later. "If I can get Susan to admit she saw her father walk through Emily's house, can we put him back behind bars?"
"Yeah, that's pretty clear cut. Any violation of his parole will put him back. But Nicky . . . how you gonna get a terrified girl to admit she saw him?"
Nick shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted. "I'll have to think of something, I guess."
"Keep me posted," said Brass, and Nick went on to finish out his shift.
At his earliest opportunity, he paid an unplanned visit to Blue Diamond, where Emily's house was. He brought his baseball glove and Bomb Pops, and Emily was suspicious the moment she laid eyes on him.
After dinner, when Cassie and Susan were cleaning up the kitchen, he caught up with Emily in the living room, where she was reading a book. She looked up at him, her expression blank as always. "I thought you were going to play catch with the kids."
"I will," he replied. "I wanted to talk to you first."
"I kinda thought you would. What is it?" She closed her book.
"About Susan," he said. "About what happened the other day. Has she mentioned anything?"
"No," said Emily. "Although . . . she's been awfully skittish. But sometimes, she just gets that way."
Nick nodded in agreement, and then took a breath. "It was her dad, Emily."
The color drained immediately from Emily's cheeks, and she tossed her book aside and stood. "What do you mean, it was her dad?"
"I mean Cassie was telling you the truth when she said she saw a man with a gray ponytail walk through the kitchen and out the back door."
Emily started to look green. "How do you know? How do you know it was him?"
"You remember I taught Cassie how to lift fingerprints for her science project?" Emily nodded. "And you remember Cassie said she saw him catch himself on the counter and on the door." Again, Emily nodded. "She lifted his fingerprints from the counter. I had my friend at the lab run them. Were you notified that he was released from prison a few weeks ago?"
She nodded. "I didn't tell her. She just gets upset, and she's made such good progress in therapy lately. Besides there's a restraining order. . . . He can't be within 50 miles."
"He was in this house," said Nick. "He was lookin' for her. Based on what Cassie said, he was drunk – not using his best judgment – but if he did it once, he'll do it again."
"How would he even find out where she is?"
"I don't know," said Nick honestly. "But if he's been looking for her – Emily, he knows how old she is and what grade she's in . . . it really wouldn't take much to call around to some elementary schools until he asked the right person the right question. Or hang around them until he saw her board a bus."
Emily looked frantically around the kitchen, her face still pasty white with her fingertips on her lips. "I'll have to keep the door locked all the time. . . . I don't understand. . . ." Then she looked up at Nick, and for the first time since he'd known her, he saw something new mixed in with the usual irritation and anger in her face. It was fear. "What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to keep her safe?"
Nick shook his head. "The way things stand, you can't do anything," he said. "I can't do anything either. Susan told Officer Akers she didn't see anyone, and you told Officer Akers that Cassie, who did see him, has an overactive imagination."
"But what about the fingerprints?"
"The fingerprints were lifted by a ten year old resident of the house," he explained. "That's a chain of custody problem. . . . She's technically a victim. I can't use what she lifted from the counter, and I'm sure you've wiped the counter down a couple of times now anyway."
"So what do I do?" Emily demanded.
"It's not about what you can do right now, Emily," said Nick, with more patience than he felt. "This is in Susan's hands. This is all about what she can do for herself. If you can get her to come in and talk to us, we can pick him up and question him. We can come out and print the door. He'll be put back in prison to serve the rest of his sentence. I can make sure they're female CSIs and female detectives if it'll make Susan more comfortable, but I can't do anything until she decides to talk."
"She's absolutely terrified of him," said Emily.
"I saw his rap sheet. I don't blame her."
She let out a breath and then met his eyes. "I'll do what I can," she promised. Nick nodded and thanked her, and then went out to play catch with Emily's kids.
Nick visited Cassie, as usual, on the following Saturday. Emily only said she hadn't gotten anywhere with Susan, and didn't seem to want to discuss it further. Cassie seemed supremely irritated with both Susan and Emily, so he took her to play mini golf and then they went to the library. Nick was glad to be able to put a smile on her face.
On Sunday night, at about ten o'clock, Nick was getting ready to leave his house for the lab when his cell phone rang. He was surprised to see that it was Emily calling.
"Hi Emily," he said, as calmly as he could, as he laid the phone to his ear. He was still getting used to the nervous quivering he felt whenever he thought something might be wrong with Cassie.
"Susan wants to talk."
He brightened. "Oh, good," he said. "Do you want to bring her by in the morning?"
"No," said Emily. "I'm at the police station. With Susan."
"Oh," was all he said for a moment. "She wants to talk right now."
"If I wait until the morning she might not want to talk," said Emily. "I have a colleague at the house for the other kids."
"All right," said Nick. "I'm on my way in; I'll meet you there in about twenty minutes."
When he got there, he found Emily and Susan in the lobby. He was surprised that Cassie with them, holding tight to Susan's hand. Cassie smiled at him.
He smiled back and squeezed her arm, and then turned to Susan. "I think you're doing the right thing," he began.
Susan held her usual scowl. "I'm not going anywhere without Emily and Cassie."
Nick nodded. "That won't be a problem, Susan. I'm going to go find a room, and then see who I can track down to take your statement."
She eyed him as distrustfully as she ever had, but nodded, and he left them for a moment in the lobby. Once he'd found a room he escorted them to it, and then he went in search of a female officer to take her statement.
The problem was that he couldn't find any. He knew that there weren't many female officers on the force to begin with, but he'd thought he could at least scare one up. He even talked to dispatch to see if any were out and could come in, to no avail. Catherine was off that day; Sara and Sofia were at a crime scene. He trudged back to the room where he'd situated Emily and the girls, and stood outside the door and crooked a finger at her.
Emily, however, steadfastly shook her head. "I promised Susan I wouldn't leave her."
Nick sighed. "Okay. Well – here's the problem." He turned to Susan. "There aren't any female officers that can take your statement. Cassie and Emily can stay with you, but you'll have to talk to a male officer."
Susan's eyes hardened, and he expected her to shout, but she didn't. "No," she said, and her eyes filled with tears. "I can't – I don't want to."
"Can't you do it, Stokes?"
"It's not a good idea," he said, looking up at Emily. "I'm too close . . . as clear-cut as this is, I don't want to take any chances."
"I can't do it," said Susan, and she rose. "I don't want to do this anymore."
Cassie caught her hand. "Susan, wait – please. We said we'd stay with you. Nick said it's okay – and remember what I said."
This seemed to still Susan, and she peered at Cassie through her dark tresses, which had fallen over her teary eyes. "You said not all men are bad. But I don't believe you."
"I know you don't," replied Cassie. "But it doesn't matter. You're scared and I'm scared and we're not going to stop being scared until he's back in prison and only you can put him there."
Nick's eyes shifted from Cassie to Susan, who had stopped crying. He was impressed with Cassie for being so frank with Susan, and he could see it working. Susan was pursing her lips and then relaxing them, like she was getting ready to talk; she darted her glare from Cassie to Nick and back again.
"This is all under your control, Susan," he said gently. "You tell me what you want me to do, okay? You're in charge."
She took a deep breath, and turned to Cassie. "Who was that officer you talked to?" she asked.
"Captain Brass," she answered. "He was nice."
"I want to talk to Captain Brass," she told Nick.
Nick nodded. "Okay. I'll go get him-"
"No, you won't," she snapped. "You'll take me to him."
His eyebrows rose in surprise, but he complied. "Okay. Follow me." He held out his hand; Susan ignored it, but Cassie took it.
A few moments later, Nick knocked at Brass' office door. "Got a minute, Jim?"
"Sure, Nicky. What's up?"
Nick stepped into the office a little further, trailing Cassie and then Susan. Emily followed. "This is Susan Bedortha and Emily Patterson," he said by way of introduction. "Susan, this is Captain Jim Brass."
"Hello," said Brass, rising.
"Susan wants to talk about what happened at the house last week," continued Nick.
"I'm in charge," she was quick to inform the captain with her ususal scowl.
Brass nodded, unruffled. "All right," he conceded. "I can certainly take your statement, if you'd like."
"That's what I'd like."
"All right," said Brass, and he sat down. Susan sat on the opposite side of his desk, her hand still nestled in Cassie's. Brass fumbled in a desk drawer for a tape recorder and held it up. "Is it okay if I record your statement?"
"Do I have to say yes?" asked Susan.
"No," said Brass. "We have to ask you if it's okay. We like to record statements sometimes so that we don't forget or misinterpret things people say - including officers, like me. Kind of like writing down your shopping list."
"But I don't have to do it."
Brass shook his head. "No, you don't."
Susan thought a moment, and then nodded. "It's okay if you record it."
Brass nodded and set the recorder down on the desktop, and extracted a pen and notebook. "Ready?"
Susan considered the question a moment, and then said, "I want to sit in your chair."
The Captain nodded and stood, gesturing to his seat. Susan rose and moved to sit in the chair; Cassie, whose hand she had not yet relinquished, stood next to her faithfully. Then Brass moved to sit in a visitor's chair. "Nick doesn't have to stay," he informed her, pointing behind him with his pen, where Nick stood with his arms crossed over his chest.
"He should stay," said Susan, shooting a glare at the CSI. "I don't want him out of my sight." Then she looked around Brass's desk and asked for a pen and notebook of her own. When she was given it, she looked up at Brass. "I'm ready. You can start recording now."
Brass nodded and turned on the recorder. He stated the date, his own name, and Susan's name, and other things he was required to record, then set it on the desk between himself and Susan. "Okay, Susan. Go ahead and tell me what happened at your house."
She nodded and took a deep breath, brushing her dark hair out of her face. She shot another glare at Nick. "This is what happened," she began. "Me and Cassie were in the dining room. We heard banging on the front door, and I heard the door open. We went to the front of the house and when we got to the front door, Robbie was there and he was closing the door. I asked him if someone came in and he said he didn't think so, someone just left the door open, but I knew I heard the door open. So then we walked through the living room to the kitchen."
She stopped, and Nick feared for a moment that she'd stop there. He knew that was the point at which Cassie had seen the gray ponytailed man, and he could see the fear, and the tears, in Susan's eyes.
She took another deep breath. "And I – I saw . . . I saw. . . ."
Cassie leaned in to squeeze her shoulders. "You can do this, Susan."
Susan's face turned angry as she looked up at Jim Brass. "I saw my dad!" she shouted suddenly, her voice trembling. "I saw him walk through the kitchen. I saw him! He was drunk and stumbling and he stopped in the kitchen. He leaned on a counter and mumbled – he said my name – and then he went out the back door." She paused to wipe her tears roughly from her face and sniffle. "He's not supposed to know where I am!" she shouted angrily, and the tears fell from her eyes again. Brass just listened as she said what she needed to say. "He hit my mom – he made her cry all the time! And then she died and he hit me instead! And then he let men come into my room at night and they did disgusting things to me, and when I told him he just hit me and told me to shut up! He's not supposed to know where I am!" Then she abandoned Cassie's hand and ran to Emily, who sat in the empty visitor's chair and let her cry into her shoulder.
Nick, whose stomach was twisting but whose face was kept carefully under control, held out his hand to Cassie. She walked over to him and took it, and he pulled her in close.
Brass waited patiently for Susan to calm down; when she did, he offered her tissues. She took them and blotted her face.
"I'm sorry he's out of prison," said Brass. "And I'm sorry he knows where you are. But now that we know, we can look for him. We can pick him up and put him back. There won't be any chance he could be paroled again."
Susan nodded. "I don't have anything else to say," she informed him.
"I just have one question for you, Susan," said Brass gently. "Why did you tell Officer Akers that you didn't see anyone?"
Susan looked like she might not answer. Her brows twitched as though they wanted to form their usual scowl, but she softened a little. "I was scared," she replied. "I knew it was my dad . . . but he did . . . he was horrible. I just wanted him to go away. I didn't realize it made Cassie scared too."
Brass nodded. "All right. Thank you for coming in and talking to us," said Brass, and he turned off the recorder. "I've got some work to do now – I have to get the warrant issued and get a detective on the case. And we'll need to have one of our CSIs come out and fingerprint the front and back doors."
Susan looked backward at Nick. "Not him, right?"
Brass smiled at Nick, who rolled his eyes. "No . . . we'll send someone else. Sidle, I think." Nick nodded his approval, and Brass looked back at Susan. "Sara Sidle - you'll like her."
Emily looked up at Brass. "I need to get these kids to bed," she told him. "Thank you for your time, Captain."
Brass nodded. "We'll be in touch."
Nick thanked the Captain, and led Emily, Cassie, and Susan out of Brass' office to the lobby. "You were great in there, you know, Susan," he told her sincerely. "Lots of people are too afraid to do what you did. I'm glad you did what you needed to do to protect yourself."
Susan was back to glaring, and she eyed him a moment. "Are we done?" she asked.
He nodded. "Yeah, you can go," he said. Susan turned and walked out the door, with Emily following.
Next to him, Cassie let out a huge sigh. He laughed and reached over to hug her. He held on a while, and then knelt down to look into her big blue eyes. "You convinced her to come in, didn't you?"
Cassie shrugged. "I don't know. I guess so. She kept saying she's not brave like me, but. . . . She is. And I kept bugging her."
Nick nodded and cleared his throat. "Do you understand what she said about what happened at her dad's house?"
"Yeah," said Cassie with a nod. "She was talking about sex."
"Yeah," confirmed Nick, "but . . . not like how it's supposed to be."
Cassie nodded. "I know," she said. "She went through a lot. I think she's brave."
"She is," said Nick with a smile. "Kind of like how when you testified at Luke's trial . . . you thought you weren't brave because you were scared."
She was about to agree, but a fierce yawn caught her, and she giggled when it was over. "Sorry. I'm really tired."
He gave her one more hug, and then they walked hand in hand out to Emily's car.
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