up nice and safe. She’d disabled the airbag earlier and
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SINS OF THE HEART
picked up this cloth contraption that wrapped around
the seat belt to modify it for the kid’s small size. Because she took her work seriously. Do it right or don’t
do it at all. “She’ll be hugging you in about four hours.”
Roxy didn’t expect a reply, but Dana surprised her.
“How long is four hours?”
Damn. Smart kid.
Roxy opened her mouth. Closed it. Glanced at the
clock in the dash. She pointed at the number on the left.
“Do you know what this is?”
“A one,” Dana whispered.
“Do you know what a five looks like?”
The kid stared at her, then slowly held up one hand,
fingers extended.
“Yeah, that’s, um, good. But do you know what the
numberfive looks like?”
Dana leaned forward and pressed the tip of her
finger to the number on the far right. A five. It was 1:35
a.m.
“Okay, then. When the one turns into a five, your
mom will be there to give you a hug.”
“Okay, then,” Dana parroted, and she closed her
eyes and promptly fell asleep.
Roxy stared at her for a minute, nonplussed. Then
she tossed the phone into a sorry-looking clump of
bushes, gave a quick scan of the perimeter and rounded
the hood. The breeze ruffled her hair. She froze, skin
prickling, wariness scratching at her. Slowly, she turned.