When a man came in with a big McDonald's takeout bag, the smell of burgers and fries had her stomach jittering with sudden and acute hunger.

He smiled at her, glanced at Carter, then came over to sit beside Phoebe on the bed. "Thought you might be hungry. Don't know about you, but I'd rather skip the hospital food. I'm Dave."

She knew she stared, knew it was rude. But she'd expected Dave to be old-older anyway. He looked barely older than the high school boys Phoebe liked to sigh over in secret. His hair was a light brown with a lot of curl to it, his eyes shades lighter and blue. He wore a dark blue shirt, open at the collar. And he smelled just a little sweaty.

He held out his hand, but when Phoebe offered hers, he didn't shake it. He held it, firm, just the way his eyes held hers. "I'm really happy to meet you, Phoebe. Really happy to see you."

"I'm glad to meet you, too."

Then she did what she hadn't done in all the hours inside the hot little house, in all the time she'd waited while her brother slept. She cried.

Dave sat, held her hand. He didn't say a thing. At one point he got up, dug up a box of tissues and put them in her lap. When her tears slowed, he pulled the Quarter Pounders and fries out of the bag. "My mama," Phoebe began.

"She's going to be fine. I checked on her, and I asked if I could have a little time with you before they took you and your brother to her, or brought her to you. Looks like he could use some sleep anyway."

"I guess."

"I know you were scared, but you were smart, too, and you were brave."

"I wasn't brave. I was mad." She picked up the burger, bit in. Her stomach clenched as if deciding whether or not it would accept the food. Then it relaxed again. "Carter was brave for climbing out the window."

"He said you told him to, that you said you'd slap him stupid if he didn't do it."

She flushed a little because she was forbidden to hit her brother.

Even though there were occasions she judged he'd earned it enough for her to break the rule.

"I guess I did."

"Why?"

"Reuben would've hurt him. He'd've hurt him bad before he hurt me, or even Mama again. Because he's the baby, and Reuben knows Mama loves him more than anything."

"You'd already put the pills in the food before you told Carter to climb out the window."

"I should've put more in. I wasn't sure how many. You knew what I was trying to tell you, right away." She picked up a fry. "I felt better when I was talking to you."

"It was smart of you to find a way to tell me you put something in his food. It bought me just a little more time."

"How come you didn't turn the electric back on? He got so mad about that."

"Well, you know how you talked him into letting you go to the bathroom before you fixed his food? It's kind of like that. You try to get something back, like an exchange. Fact was, I was about to when we spotted Carter climbing out the window. I wanted to keep Reuben talking-or let you talk-while we got Carter to safety and figured out the new situation. Did you knock over the bottle to distract him, so he'd be mad at you and forget about Carter?"

"I figured he'd hit me, but I didn't know he'd get that mad. I think he'd have shot me if Mama hadn't jumped on him. I should've given him more pills, is what. Then it wouldn't have taken so long for him to pass out. Mama wouldn't've had the pills if it wasn't for him. That's irony." She smiled a little when Dave laughed. "I learned about irony in English class. She got the pills because he made her so upset and nervous. He pretended to be nice when he met her, when they started going out. But he started picking on her, and us, and pushing his weight around. He slapped her once, right across the face."

"She had a restraining order on him."

Phoebe nodded. "She told him she wouldn't see him anymore and to go away. But he kept coming around, or going to her work. Following her in his car. I think more than that, but she wouldn't tell me. He came to the house one night, too, drunk, and she called the police. They made him go away, but that's all they did."

"I'm sorry we didn't do more."

"They told her she could get that restraining order, so she did. I don't see how it helped her any."

"No. I'm sorry about that, too. It seems to me, Phoebe, your mother did everything right, everything she could do to protect herself and her family."

Phoebe stared down at the paper napkin balled in her fist. "Why didn't he just go away when she said she didn't want him?"

"I don't know."

It wasn't the answer she wanted, Phoebe decided. Worse, it was kin to a lie. She hated when grown-ups lied because they didn't think you could understand.

Phoebe ate more fries and shook her head. "Maybe you don't know exactly, but you sort of do. You just think I won't understand 'cause I'm only twelve-almost twelve. But I understand lots of things."

He studied her another moment, as if he could read something on her face like the words in a book. "Okay, I do sort of know, or I have an opinion. I think he's mean, he's a bully, and he didn't like the idea of anyone telling him what to do, or what he could have, especially a woman like your mother. So he tried to scare her and intimidate her, and he got madder and madder because it wasn't working the way he wanted. I think he wanted to hurt her, to show her he was the boss, and it got out of hand, even for him."

Phoebe ate another fry. "I think he's a son of a bitch."

"Yeah, that, too. Now he's going to be a son of a bitch in jail, for a long time."

She thought about this as she sucked on the Coke he'd brought her. "On TV, they usually shoot the bad guy. The SWAT team shoots him."

"I like it better when nobody gets shot. What you did in there? It helped it work out so nobody died. Dying's a short end, Phoebe. I know you're tired, and you want to see your mother." He stood, then pulled a card out of his pocket. "I want you to know you can call me anytime.

You need to talk about all this again, or ask questions, or you need help with anything, you just call me."

She took the card and read: Detective David McVee. "Carter, too? And Mama?"

"Absolutely. Anything, Phoebe, anytime."

"Okay, thanks. Thanks for the burger and fries."

"My pleasure, that's a fact." This time when he offered his hand, he shook hers. "You take care of yourself, and your family."

"I will."

When he left, Phoebe put his card in her pocket. She rolled up the takeout bag to help keep the food Dave had brought for Carter warm, shoved the trash in the waste bin.

She crossed to the window to look out. The sun had come up. She didn't know when dawn had broken or how long it had been light. But she knew the dark hours were over.

When the door opened and her mother stood there, her arms open wide, Phoebe all but flew into them.

"Mama, Mama, Mama."

"My sweet girl. My baby girl."

"Your face. Mama-"

"It's all right. I'm all right."

How could it be all right with that line of stitches running down her mother's lovely cheek, marring her soft, soft skin? When her sparkling blue eyes were dull and the bruising crawled out around them?

But Essie put her hands on Phoebe's shoulders. "It's nothing. We're safe, we're all safe. That's everything. Oh God, Phoebe, I'm so sorry."

"Not you. Not you." Tears spilled again as Essie brushed kisses over the bruise on Phoebe's jaw. "Mama, it wasn't your fault. Dave even said so."

"I let Reuben into our lives. I opened the door to him. That much, at least, is my fault." She stepped away to walk over, to lean over Carter and rest her cheek on his head. "God, God, if anything had happened to you, to either of you, I don't know what I'd do. You got him out," she murmured. "You got Carter out of the house. It's more than I did."