On his next day off, Nick drove out to Blue Diamond. He purposely went unannounced. A handful of Emily's kids were outside playing; he didn't see Cassie among them. He climbed the steps and knocked on the screen door.

Emily approached and opened the door, but didn't allow him to enter the house. "You know, some people think it's weird – a grown man with so much interest in a little girl."

Nick removed his sunglasses, suppressing the anger that bubbled at her accusation. "So you don't trust me."

"No."

"Contacting my supervisor like that is harassment. You want me to call yours?"

"It's my job to protect her, Mr. Stokes. I can't afford to trust people I don't know."

Nick was about to reply that all she had to do was open her mouth and ask a few questions, but Cassie approached, so he kept quiet. She stood next to her foster mother and tentatively said, "Miss Emily, you can trust Nick. He's a good guy."

"It's rude to eavesdrop, Cassie," she snapped in reply.

Cassie took a step backward. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"There isn't any need for that kind of tone," objected Nick, who knew he had that mean, angry look on his face.

"Miss Emily," said Cassie quickly, as though to stem the argument she could sense brewing between them, "my homework's done and my room's clean. I cleaned Susan's side of the room, too . . . only I didn't know where to put her clothes, so I put them on her bed. May I please go with Nick?"

Emily glared at Nick. "I want to know where she is every hour, and I want her back here in one piece in time for supper. I will have your ass if she's not."

Nick held his hand out to Cassie, who took it. "Have it your way." Without another word, he turned around and led Cassie to his truck. He helped her into the front seat and then climbed in himself, sighing as he sat back and turned over the engine.

As the truck roared to life, Cassie turned to look at him. "Are you mad?"

He instantly softened his features as he looked back at her in surprise. "No, I'm not mad, kiddo," he replied. "Miss Emily's just trying to protect you, that's all." He rubbed the top of her head and smiled a little. "You all right?"

She gave him a half-hearted smile. "I'm better now."

"Let's go get some lunch. We'll see if we can put a real smile on that face." Cassie just nodded and rested her head against the seat. Nick's heart broke for her, and his decision was made in that moment. "It's gonna be okay, Cass," he said quietly, beginning to rack his brain for the names of attorneys he knew who could help him. He held out his hand and hoped she'd take it.

She did. "Thanks for coming to visit," she replied. Nick squeezed her fingers and drove away from Emily's house.

Cassie was still quiet when they arrived in Las Vegas. He picked a quiet, out-of-the-way restaurant and held her hand as they walked in. The waitress settled them into a booth and handed them menus. Nick ordered a cup of coffee; Cassie declined anything but water.

Nick creased his brow. "You don't want a Coke or something?" he asked when the waitress walked away.

She shook her head. "No, it's okay," she replied. "You don't need to buy me lunch, either."

"Did you already eat lunch?"

"No, but you don't have to buy it for me. I like you already."

Taken aback by this, Nick paused to carefully formulate his reply. "Cassie . . . what makes you think that I want to bribe you into liking me?"

She seemed to ponder his question a moment. "Well . . . Susan says that if you don't have parents, adults only buy you things to make you like them. She says that's just the way most grown-ups are. She said that's why you bought me the baseball glove." Actually, Susan had said a lot more on the subject of her gift from Nick, but she wasn't about to repeat it.

"That's not true," he said gently. "I bought you that baseball glove because I wanted you to have it."

"But Susan knows a lot of adults," countered Cassie. "She said they all do it – even like her therapists and stuff. And David, he's nine, and Marie, she's thirteen, they said-"

Nick cut her off by holding up a hand. "Hold on, now," he began. "I know a lot of adults . . . and you know what? There are adults who try to make people like them by doing them favors or by buying them gifts. But those people are dishonest, and I'm not one of them. I'm sorry that Susan knows so many dishonest people."

"I know you're not dishonest, Nick," she replied quietly. "It's just . . . I don't know anyone anymore . . . I don't have any good friends anymore . . . I used to be able to talk to anyone, but I can't anymore. I just want people to like me, but they don't." She put her hand across the scar on her throat and looked out the window, lowering her voice. "I think something's wrong with me – like everyone can tell that something bad happened to me and they should stay away."

Nick's throat tightened. "There's nothing wrong with you, Cass. You've been through a lot. It just takes time to make good friends."

"That's what everyone says, but people don't treat me the same anymore. I wish I didn't have this big ugly scar. I wish people would just treat me like a normal kid."

"I try, Cassie," he said, and when she looked up at him her big blue eyes were swimming with unshed tears. He wondered if he had done enough. "I try to be your friend . . . you know me, and I'm not going anywhere."

Cassie looked across the table at him, grateful that he was there. "I know." She swept the tears from her eyes with a blink, and then a smile started to creep across her face. "Thanks for being my friend, Nickelbee."

His eyes crinkled at the corners. "There's a real smile. That's much better."

The waitress came back with Nick's coffee and Cassie's water, and asked if they were ready to order. Before Nick could respond that they'd need a little more time, Cassie piped up. "Can I have a Dr. Pepper, please?"

The waitress nodded. "Sure, doll. What do you want to eat?"

She stole a glance at Nick. "Can I have a grilled cheese sandwich?"

"Sure."

"With tomato?"

"Sure."

"And bacon?"

"Sure," said the waitress, smiling. "Do you want any chips or fries?"

"No, thanks."

She turned to Nick. "And what can I get for you?"

He smilingly ordered his lunch and handed back their menus. When the waitress was gone, he turned back to Cassie. "There's something I wanted to talk to you about . . . it's pretty serious, so I want you to think about it before you answer me."

Her eyes big and curious, she nodded. "Okay."

Nick cleared his throat before beginning. "I was thinking . . . how would you like . . . I mean, how would you feel about maybe . . . maybe coming to live with me?"

She looked at him sideways. "You mean, like . . . you'd adopt me?"

He nodded. "Yeah . . . I'd like to."

"You can do that?"

"Well sure, Cass. Why not?"

"But you're not married. I thought you have to be married."

He shook his head. "No . . . you don't have to be married. You . . . have to be responsible, and you have to have a job . . . and you can't be in any trouble with the law . . . and you have to be a good person . . . that's all."

"But why would you want to adopt me if you're not married?"

He cleared his throat again, not really knowing what to say. "I don't know," he said, floundering a little. "Seems like you and I get along pretty well . . . you need a permanent home, and I have room . . . you know, I grew up with all kinds of people in the house all the time, but here in Vegas . . . I really don't have anyone." He paused a little and hoped that what he was saying made sense to her. "Your mom and dad would want you to have a good home, and I think I can give you one. They'd want you to be happy, and I can see that you're not. I just want to help you be a happy kid again."

"Why?"

He wondered how much neglect Cassie had really been subject to, but replied differently. "Because I like you," he said simply, "and because I want someone to care about."

Cassie turned to look out the window. "Would I have to call you Dad?"

"No," he softly replied. "I don't want to replace your family, Cassie. I just want to take care of you."

"What would you have to do?" She turned back to him, adjusting her eyes from the bright sun.

"I don't know yet," he replied. "I thought I'd talk to you first . . . I wanted to know what you thought about it first."

"What do I have to do?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. Except it would mean that you'd have to move again, and you'd have to start all over at a new school again. For right now, I just want you to think about it . . . about everything that moving again would mean. Vegas is a lot different than little Pioche, or even Blue Diamond. There might be a lot to get used to."

Nick was unprepared for her next question. "Would I be happy there?"

His heart broke a little more. "I hope so," was all he could really say.

She turned to look out the window again. "Do you know anything about having kids?"

With a smirk, he shook his head. "I sure don't, Cassie. But you know, when people have babies, they don't know much, either. They might take a couple of classes and learn how to change a diaper, but for the most part, they just learn as they go. You and me could do that. I promised to be honest with you, and you promised to be honest with me, so that should get us through the rough spots all right. And besides, you can already talk and walk and feed yourself. Technically I'm a leg up on most people." She giggled a little; it made him smile. "You think about it, princess. Tell me what you want to do, and I'll make it happen."

She nodded. "Okay."

"Now," he continued, as their food was served to them, "what do you want to do until I have to bring you back to Miss Emily?"

She took a sip of her soda and thought for a minute. "Why don't you tell me about you?" she suggested. "You know all about me, but I don't know much about you."

"Oh." Nick rumpled his brow. "I guess I never thought of that. Where do you want me to start?"

"Well . . . ." She blushed a little and looked at her plate. "I guess I always wondered where your accent's from."

He grinned. "Texas," he said proudly. "I grew up in Dallas."

"Cool. Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"I do," he replied, his lips curling into a smile. "I have one brother and five sisters."

"That's a lot of sisters," she said with a smile. "What are their names?"

"My brother is Billy, after my dad – he's William the third, so Billy's the fourth. Then I have Kathleen, Lauren, Audra, Helen, and Becky for sisters. All my siblings are triplets."

"How can they be triplets if one of 'em's a boy?" she asked dubiously.

"Triplets and twins aren't always identical – you'll probably learn that in biology this year. Billy, Kathleen, and Lauren were born first, then Audra, Helen, and Becky. Then me."

"That's cool," she said with a smile. "Do they have kids?"

"Buckets of kids," he replied, eating his lunch. "Let's see . . . there's Kathleen's two daughters Laura and Maria – their dad is Mexican so you have to say their names right – then, Lauren's got a son named Eddie, and Audra has triplet girls, Anna, Sammie, and Grace. She's also got twin boys, David and Aaron. Helen has two sets of twin boys – Mikey and John, and Richie and Kevin. And then Becky has Chelsea and Jimmy. So that's . . . fourteen?"

Cassie laughed. "That's the biggest family I ever heard of," she said as she picked up her sandwich.

"It's the only kind of family I ever had," he replied. "Now what else can I tell you about? Oh, my mom and dad," he decided.

"Yeah – what did they do before they retired?"

"Well, my dad's not retired. He's still working. He's a supreme court justice in Texas."

She looked truly impressed by this news. "So he'd be, like, above Judge Kaisershot, if he was in Nevada?"

He nodded. "You could say that. Now, my mom, she was a district attorney for a long time."

"Oh, like Elizabeth," Cassie noted. "She must be really smart, too."

Nick smiled. "She sure is."

"Does everyone still live in Texas?" Nick nodded, chewing. "Why do you live here?"

"That's kind of complicated. I wanted to get away from my family . . . not my family, really, but the expectations everyone had because of who my parents were."

"Do you like it here?"

"I do," he replied, "although, I miss home a lot sometimes."

"I know how you feel," she said. "I used to do my homework in my mom's coffee shop. I miss that."

He smiled. "I bet you do. Do you remember me telling you I was always sick as a kid?"

She nodded, smiling. "You said your sisters called you Sicky Nicky."

"That's right," he said with a grin. "I was born two months early and until I was about ten I got sick really easily. It was tough because I had to watch my brother do things like play baseball, and I wasn't allowed to. But my mom makes the best brownies in all of Texas, and whenever I got upset about it, she'd surprise me with them or we'd make them together. Some days I wish I could go home and just smell brownies baking."

Cassie smiled; Nick really did understand. "You know what I like about you, Nick?"

He met her eyes and raised an eyebrow to prompt her to continue.

"When I talk about my parents or my brother, you don't go all weird."

He smiled comfortingly at her. "It's tough for people to hear about the dead," he explained. "It makes them uncomfortable – especially if they died from something other than old age. It reminds people that some day, they'll die too. People in Pioche were probably uncomfortable because nothing like what happened to your family ever happened there. Kids at Miss Emily's probably are uncomfortable because they don't know how you'll react to questions about what happened."

"Do you have to deal with dead people all the time?" she asked.

"No, not all the time. We investigate any crime that happens. But even when we do investigate deaths, it's not as gruesome as it sounds. A lot of times, it's an accident or no one really knows what happened, and that can be frustrating. But it helps to remember that people who've died had families and lives, and they deserve justice, and closure, and the truth."

She was quiet for a minute, chewing her food. "Is that why you worked so hard to find me?"

Nick stopped and met her eyes shrewdly. He put down his fork and placed his hands in his lap; his appetite was suddenly lost. He gazed at her silently, and then said, "I pinkie-swore that I'd always be honest with you."

"Yeah."

"I don't want to tell you why I worked so hard to find you."

"How come?"

"It's too much," he replied, his voice thick. "It's too much for me to tell; too much for you to hear." If she pressed him, he would tell her because she deserved to know, but he knew he wouldn't be able to keep his composure.

Cassie simply assumed this meant that someone had hurt him and he wasn't quite over it yet. She remembered that her dad and Jeremy didn't like to talk about their feelings; she'd had more than one frustrated conversation with her mother about that. "Will you tell me some day?"

Relief shot through his body in a cool blast, and he smiled gratefully. "Yes," he said. "I'll pinkie-swear to that, too." He held out his pinkie.

She reached across the table to grasp it with her own. "Promise?"

"Promise." He pulled. They smiled at each other for a minute, and then Nick suggested a movie. Cassie, not having been to a movie in a very long time, readily agreed, and they enjoyed the remainder of their afternoon.

(c) 2008 J. H. Thompson