Silent Witness. Diane Burke

Both Kate and Dave had been only children. No relatives to lay claim to the boy. So, what was going to happen to him?

      Liz didn’t have the heart to place him with Child Protective Services—not yet, anyway. Being autistic, she knew Jeremy would never understand what was happening to him. He’d been through so much already. He needed placement with a family trained to handle special-needs children and, unfortunately, she didn’t think there would be much to choose from here in Country Corners.

      Besides, Jeremy was a material witness for their murder case. Child Protective Services would have no means to protect him.

      Liz stared out the window but didn’t focus on anything she saw.

      “What did you see, Jeremy?” Liz spoke the words aloud, almost as if the walls could talk and might provide the answers she desperately needed. She ran through the crime scene in her mind for what was probably the hundredth time.

      If he had seen the killer, would he be able to identify the person from a photo lineup of suspects? If and when they ever came up with a suspect, that is.

      She knew she had to try not to be so impatient. It had only been three days. They’d find something. They had to.

      Liz stood up and looked through the blinds of her office window.

      Great! Just what I need.

      Two reporters from the local newspaper were buzzing about in the parking lot. How was she going to keep the situation under control if the national media picked up the story and ran with it? She could picture the sensationalized headlines.

      Double Homicide in Small Town. Little Boy Only Survivor.

      As soon as the press broadcast the existence of a sole survivor and possible witness, would the killer return to tie up loose ends?

      A tight, painful knot formed in the pit of her stomach.

      She glanced one more time at the clock. Jeremy had to be awake by now. Well, no more waiting. She grabbed her purse and muttered a string of unflattering descriptions of Dr. Adam Morgan for not calling her with an update. But why should he? Not calling her was his specialty.

      * * *

      Adam, standing in the hall in front of Jeremy’s room, had an unobstructed view of Liz Bradford storming down the hall in his direction. If she could breathe fire and shoot lasers, he would be under attack at any moment. He knew he should keep a cool, calm, professional facade but he couldn’t help himself. After all, this was Lizzie. When they were kids he had always gotten great pleasure out of pushing her buttons and watching her explode.

      “It’s about time you showed up,” he said as soon as she was within earshot. “I was beginning to think you didn’t care a hoot about this boy.”

      She came to such an abrupt halt it looked like she’d slammed into an invisible force field. Her eyes widened and her expression clearly showed she thought that he’d lost his mind. When she saw the grin on his face, she exploded right on cue.

      “What are you talking about? I’ve been waiting to hear from you. Why haven’t you called me with an update?”

      Adam laughed out loud. “Calm down, Lizzie. I was just about to call you. I’ve been tied up with the boy.”

      His explanation seemed to appease her for the moment. When he took one step too close to her personal space, however, the warm fuzzies were gone and she stepped back.

      She shifted beneath his gaze, and the sparks of anger he’d seen when she’d first approached quickly faded to something else—a wariness, almost like an animal that had been hurt and wasn’t sure if it was going to be hurt again.

      “I told you. Nobody calls me Lizzie.”

      “I do.”

      That’s how he’d always think of her…Lizzie…tall, lanky, spirited, beautiful Lizzie. She looked up at him, and he thought he might drown in the pale blue of her eyes.

      “Just tell me about Jeremy, please.” Liz chewed on her bottom lip and waited for his answer.

      “Okay…Sheriff.” He nodded in deference to her request. “The boy is doing as well as can be expected under the circumstances. I was just about to call you. I need to know how much longer the house will be off-limits.”

      “Why?” She eyed him warily. “If you need clothes or toys or something, I would be happy to pick them up for you.”

      “That’s not what I’m asking. I want to know if you’ve finished gathering evidence for the forensic portion of your investigation.”

      Liz studied him like a specimen under a microscope. “It’s been three days. To my knowledge, we’ve already gathered all the forensic evidence. I’ll have to check with Detective Davenport and verify that he’s finished with the premises but the house will probably be available sometime tomorrow. Why?”

      “Because I want to take Jeremy home.”

      “Home? To his home? You can’t be serious.” Her shocked expression was almost painful to see. “We haven’t even had a team in there to clean the place!”

      “I have already arranged for a cleaning service from Poplar Bluff that specializes in difficult stains and hazardous materials to go in and sanitize the house. They’re on standby. As soon as you give me the go-ahead, I’ll call them. The place will be spotless before we arrive.”

      She planted her hands on her hips. This time he could actually feel the heat from the laser look she shot him.

      “The worst thing you can do is take him back into that house after everything that has happened. He’s been traumatized. He doesn’t need to be reminded of it.”

      “That’s one school of thought.” Adam kept his voice soft and calm so he didn’t upset her more. “Some psychiatrists will tell you to avoid the place where a trauma occurred. I don’t necessarily agree.”

      “Of course not,” Liz hissed. “You’re just like your father, aren’t you? Following in the same footsteps like a clone instead of being your own person.”

      Adam felt a flush of anger warm his neck and cheeks at her biting barb. He realized he wasn’t the only one who knew which buttons to push to get a rise.

      “Don’t do this, Adam. Please. You know what living in a place where a terrible tragedy occurred can do to the survivors. You saw the devastation up close and personal.” The pleading tone in her voice verified his assumptions. This wasn’t just about Jeremy. This was also about Luke.

      “Jeremy has been through a major traumatic event. He needs to start to heal,” he said.

      “You think I don’t know that?”

      “Autistic children, on the whole, do not function well with sudden change. They require structure and repetition in their lives.”

      “Well, go ahead and provide him with structure and repetition—someplace else. You can’t expect him to live in that house. Not now. Not since his family…”

      Adam noted the near hysteria in her voice, the tense body language. Liz fought to remain calm and logical but she was losing the battle. The thought of returning Jeremy to the crime scene was obviously plunging her back in time…Luke and Jeremy…past and present…all swirling around in a painful mess and coloring her decisions. He knew he had to tread as lightly as possible but he also knew that he couldn’t budge on this issue regardless.

      “Liz, I understand your concerns. I do.” He reached out a hand to comfort her. She moved away before he could connect and a shaft of pain hit his heart. He understood her desire to steer clear of him. He deserved it. He’d treated her abominably and he didn’t deserve her kindness or forgiveness. But it hurt just the same.

      He pulled his hand back, ran it through his hair and sighed heavily.

      “I believe that being in familiar surroundings is the best thing for Jeremy.