Malone crouched down so she wasn’t looking up at him anymore, though he still blocked her view of everything else. She saw his momentary surprise and knew he’d noticed her eyes. The reaction was always the same.
“What’s your name, kiddo?” he asked softly.
“Dani Flanagan.” Again, the echo, and now she couldn’t feel her toes. Her feet were cold and her chest was hot.
“I’m Officer Malone, Dani. We won’t go far. Just out the back door. So we aren’t underfoot.”
“Will you tell her I’m here?” she said and clapped her hands over her ears. Something was wrong with her. Something was wrong with Mother and Daddy. The heat in her chest was rising to her eyes, and the ache in her toes was climbing up her legs. She didn’t know if she could walk.
“Jaysus, Malone. Get her out of here,” the first policeman yelled, and Officer Malone’s mouth tightened. She didn’t think he liked the big policeman.
“Come with me now, Dani,” Malone urged.
She tried to move her feet, but she couldn’t.
“Malone!”
Without another word, Malone scooped her up and stomped out into the cold night. When he reached the backyard, he stopped and looked around for some place to set her down.
“Here you go, Dani Flanagan,” he said, and placed her on the bench where Daddy smoked.
She was stiff and cold on the outside, but inside she was on fire, and the fire was crackling and hissing like the logs in the stove. She began to shake, and Malone sat down beside her and shrugged out of his overcoat and wrapped it around her. He didn’t tell her she was okay. He didn’t pat her back or stroke the curls on her head the way Daddy did when she was upset. But his coat was warm and big, and it distracted her from the darkness in and all around her.
“Where were you?” he asked. “Before you came home. Where were you?”
“I w-walked down to O’Brien’s. B-but I didn’t go in. There are some k-k-kitties in a b-box in the alley behind the store. They’re so cute. I was just going to visit them for a minute, but I stayed too long. Mother must be wondering w-where I am. She must b-be scared. She’s been scared a lot lately.”
“When you left . . . where was your mother?”
“She was asleep.”
“And your pop? Where was your dad?”
“He wasn’t home. He just left this morning with Uncle Darby and wasn’t supposed to be back for a few days. He was going to miss my birthday, but he told me I could have one of the kittens when he got home. He said he’d talk to Mother.”
“When’s your birthday?”
“Tomorrow. I’m going to be ten.”
She thought he swore, but the word was soft, and she wasn’t sure.
“Have you picked one out? Do you know which one you want?”
“Yes. It’s a little boy cat. Daddy said no girl cats allowed because we only need one. The boy cat can’t have babies. But he was my favorite anyway. His eyes are like mine. One is brown. One is blue. It’s very rare, Daddy says. Very rare and very special.”
“What are you going to name him?”
“Charlie.”
“That’s a good name.”
“They’re dead, aren’t they?” she asked. She didn’t want to talk about Charlie. She wanted her mother. She wanted Daddy to come out and tell Malone and all the other policemen to go home.
Malone swore again, and this time she heard it. He crossed himself and looked down at her, and his eyes were shiny, and his lips wobbled.
“Yes, Dani. They are. I’m so sorry.”
People died. Their hearts stopped. The breath rattled from their lips, and the light went out. It wasn’t like a car stalling or a bulb flickering, though it was, in a way. Movement, motion, presence . . . and then nothing. A soiled glove in the road, the blown-off boot of a legless soldier. Michael Malone had seen more than his share of limbless men. Death was so unforgiving. So unforgiving. He had yet to see someone come back from it.
The soul was quick to flee. If there was a soul—whatever that strange phenomenon called consciousness was—it didn’t linger with the body. It raced away. And death, gray-faced and foul-smelling, immediately claimed the flesh. He’d seen it a thousand times.
When he was young, he’d imagined he could see souls. He’d even told his mother about the colors that hovered like watercolor paints around some people’s heads and shoulders. Pink and lavender, white and yellow, he saw them quite clearly, and he saw the light that shadowed him when he caught his reflection from the corner of his eye. His mother had believed him, and said it was a gift. His light had been warm once, but it’d been years since he’d seen it. His mother’s light was warm too, and he’d watched it fade. Maybe his mother took his gift when she went away.