silence, in which Cal can do nothing but wait. Then Lena says, “Right. I’ll be down to you in ten minutes.” She hangs up before he can say anything more.
Trey jumps violently at the sound of Cal coming back in. “Just me,” he says. “I got a friend of mine coming over who’s good at caring for hurt animals. I figure a hurt kid can’t be too different.”
“Who?”
“Lena. Noreen’s sister. You don’t need to worry about her. Out of everyone around here, she’s the best person I know for keeping her mouth shut.”
“What’ll she do?”
“Just take a look at you. Clean up your face—she’ll do it gentler than I can. Maybe stick on one of those fancy Band-Aids that look like stitches.”
Trey clearly wants to argue, but she’s got nothing left in her to do it with. The warmth from the coverings and the fire has eased her shaking, leaving her limp and slumped. She looks like she barely has the strength to keep holding the towel to her mouth.
Cal pulls over one of the kitchen chairs, so he can sit by her and catch it if she drops it. Her eye has got worse, plum-black and swollen so big that the skin is tight and shiny.
“Let’s see how that cut’s doing,” he says. Trey doesn’t react. Cal reaches out one finger and moves her hand away from her mouth. The bleeding has slackened, just slow bright drops welling up. Her teeth are all still there. “Better,” he says. “How’s it feel?”
Trey moves one shoulder. She hasn’t looked straight at him once. When she tries, her eye skids away like his hurt her.
She needs to rinse out that cut with salt water, and someone needs to take a close look and see if it needs stitches. Cal has done first aid on babies, junkies and everyone in between, but he can’t do it here. He can’t take the risk that he’ll put a finger wrong and break the kid. Just being this near to her makes his whole body sing with nerves.
“Kid,” he says. “Listen to me. I can’t make sure this situation goes nice and smooth unless I know what it is I’m dealing with. I’m not gonna say a word to anyone without your leave, but I need to know who did this to you.”
Trey’s head moves against the back of the chair. She says, “My mam.”
The fury hits Cal so intensely that for a second he can’t see. When it clears a little, he says, “How come?”
“They told her to. Said do it or we will.”
“Who told her to?”
“Dunno. I was out. Got home and she said to come out back ’cause she hadta talk to me.”
“Uh-huh,” Cal says. He makes sure he has his cop face and his cop voice in place, peaceful and interested. “What’d she use?”
“Belt. And hit me. Kicked me a coupla times.”
“Well, that’s not good,” Cal says. He wants Lena to get here so badly that he can hardly sit still. “You got any idea why?”
Trey makes a ragged twitch that Cal recognizes as a shrug.
“You been stealing from anyone who might take offense?”
“Nah.”
“You’ve been asking questions about Brendan,” Cal says. “Haven’t you?”
Trey nods. She doesn’t have the wherewithal to lie.
“Dammit, kid,” Cal begins, and then bites it back. “OK. Who’ve you been asking?”
“Went to see Donie.”
“When?”
It takes her a while to figure that out. “Day before yesterday.”
“He give you anything?”
“He just told me to fuck off. Laughed at me.” Her words are sloppy and widely spaced, but she’s making sense. Her mind is OK, depending on your definition of OK. “He said watch yourself or you’ll end up like Bren.”
“Well, Donie can say anything he likes,” Cal says. “Doesn’t make it so.” The talking has opened up her lip again; a thin trickle of blood is making its way down her chin. “Hush, now. I’ll take care of that part. All you gotta do is stay still.”
Wind slams against the windows and sings furiously in the chimney, setting the fire fluttering and sending curls of rich-smelling smoke into the room. Firewood cracks and pops. Cal checks Trey’s lip every now and then. When the bleeding stops again, he stands up.
The movement sends a jolt of panic through Trey. “What’re you doing?”
“Getting you some ice to put on that eye, and that lip. That’s all. Bring down the swelling, and ease the pain a little bit.”
He’s at the sink, popping ice cubes into a fresh towel, when he sees the sweep of