Maggie hung up the phone and massaged her temples. A throbbing invaded her head, reaching down into her neck and shoulder blades. She had spent the last twenty minutes arguing with the doctor assigned to her mother’s case. He had graduated at the top of his class, the arrogant, little bastard had reassured her. Fresh out of medical school and he thought he knew it all. Well, he didn’t know her mother. He hadn’t even looked at her history yet. When Maggie recommended he call her mother’s therapist, he sounded relieved, even grateful when she gave him the name and phone number. She wondered how many people kept the name and phone number of their mother’s therapist in their memory bank.

They did agree that Maggie shouldn’t hop on the next plane to Richmond. Her mother was screaming for attention, but Maggie dropping everything and rushing to her side only seemed to reinforce the behavior. Or at least it had the last five times. Dear God, Maggie thought, one of these times her mother would succeed, if only by sheer accident. And although she agreed with Greg that razor blades were a serious advancement, the cuts—according to Dr. Boy Wonder—were horizontal, not vertical.

Maggie sank her throbbing head into the soft leather back of the chair and closed her eyes. She had been taking care of her mother since she was twelve. And what did a twelve-year-old girl, who had just lost her father, know about taking care of anyone? Sometimes she felt as though she had let her mother down, until she remembered that it was her mother who had abandoned her with her drunken stupors.

There was a soft tap on the frosted glass of the office door. Without prompting, the door eased open just enough for Morrelli to peek in.

“O’Dell, you okay in here?”

She remained paralyzed, her body scrunched down in the chair. Suddenly, legs, arms, everything seemed too heavy to move. “I’m fine,” she managed to say, but knew immediately that she didn’t sound or look very convincing.

His brow furrowed, and soft blue eyes showed concern. He hesitated, then came into the office slowly, cautiously. He set a can of Diet Pepsi in front of her. The cold condensation dripped down the side, and she wondered how long he had stood outside his own office before getting the nerve to come in.

“Thanks.” She still made no effort to move, and it obviously made Morrelli uncomfortable. He stood with arms crossed, then shoved his hands into his pockets.

“You look like hell,” he finally said.

“Thanks a lot, Morrelli.” But she smiled.

“Listen, could you do me a favor? Call me Nick. Every time you call me Morrelli or Sheriff Morrelli, I start looking around for my dad.”

“Okay, I’ll try.” Even her eyelids felt heavy. If she closed her eyes right this minute, would she finally sleep?

“Lucy is ordering lunch up from Wanda’s. What can I get for you? Blue plate special on Monday is meat loaf, but I’d recommend the chicken-fried steak sandwich.”

“I’m really not very hungry.”

“I’ve been with you since two this morning, and you haven’t eaten a thing. You need to eat, O’Dell. I’m not going to be responsible for you whittling away that cute little…” He caught himself, but it was too late. The embarrassment washed over his face. He wiped a hand across his jaw as if to erase it. “I’m ordering a ham and cheese sandwich for you.” He turned to leave.

“On rye?”

He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Okay.”

“And with hot mustard?”

Now he smiled, and there were definitely dimples. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that, O’Dell?”

“Hey, Nick.” She stopped him again.

“What now?”

“Call me Maggie.”