She blinked. “My father’s name was Sallah.”
“Okay.” Jerry made another note, fighting the urge to gather her in his arms and swear to protect her against all comers. “Can you tell me how old you are?”
“I don’t know.”
How long had Welsh been keeping this girl in his closet?
“About three thousand years.”
Too long. “Okay. You need some coffee? Something to eat?” He stood. “I’ll get you some coffee and a doughnut.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Jerry walked out of the room. In the hall, he stopped and took a deep breath. Most of the time he could handle the victims. Raped girls. Abused girls. Girls who had been through crap that would bring a grown man to his knees. He could look into their wounded eyes, promise to do everything he could and accept that he had tried, no matter what happened.
This girl? Something about this girl snagged his guts like fishhooks.
Stretching his neck, he walked down the hall to the station coffee room. The box of doughnuts had been decimated, but there were a couple of glazed and half a jelly left. He loaded them onto a napkin and turned to the coffee maker. Only it wasn’t just a coffee maker, it was one of those super fabulous special coffee makers that required a degree to operate. “Can somebody get in here and make me some coffee?” he yelled.
Barnes strolled in. “How’s the interview going?” He started fiddling with the machine.
“Great. Her name’s Melody, her father’s name is Sallah and she’s three thousand years old.”
“She looks great for her age.”
“Stop fuckin’ around,” Jerry snarled. The sharp scent of coffee should be clearing his head by now. Not really happening. Not yet. Maybe once he got to drink some. Or maybe he should consider pouring it over his head.
Barnes cocked an eyebrow at him. “Didn’t take long for her to get to you.”
“Look, you shoved this off on me. Don’t give me shit about how I handle it.”
“I’m not, but I think you’re getting personally involved really fast.” Barnes set one cup of coffee on the counter and started fooling with the other one. “It’s a year today, isn’t it?”
“That has nothing to do with it.”
“You can’t save everyone, Jerry.”
“I don’t need to.” He gritted his teeth. Liar, liar, pants on fire.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“How could it have been my fault, Tom? Tell me. She had cancer.”
Barnes handed him the two cups of coffee. “The first step to recovery is recognizing that you have a problem.”
Gripping the handles of the cups in one hand, Jerry grabbed the doughnuts and stalked out of the coffee room. Barnes was out of his mind. Melody, daughter of Sallah, wasn’t getting to him because of Amanda. She was getting to him because it was four in the morning and she’d been stuffed in the closet of a dead man for four days for no apparent reason. Outside the interview room he realized he didn’t have a free hand to open the door. He set the coffee on the hall table and opened the door.
Melody sat in the same pose. Maybe her arms weren’t hugging her knees quite as tight. Maybe her face wasn’t as pale. Same pose though, same heart-stopping fear in her eyes. Time to be professional about this. He put the coffee and doughnuts on the table in front of her.
“Sorry, this time of night pickin’s are pretty slim.” He slid one of the cups toward her. “So Melody, do you have any family you’d like me to call? Friends? Anyone who can come get you?”
“I have you.” Her thin hand crept across the table and she picked up one of the glazed and bit into it. “I haven’t eaten a doughnut in years. These are good. Billy had diabetes so we couldn’t have these kinds of things in the house.”
He frowned. “Melody, can you tell me why you were in that closet?”
“I was afraid. Billy wished me free before he died so I didn’t go back in the lamp and I didn’t know what to do. I’ve never been there after my master died before. I always went back in the lamp.”
“Back in the lamp?”
“My lamp.” Melody shoved the last three bites of her doughnut in her mouth and reached for the other one.
“Watch out, you don’t want to–”
Melody opened her mouth like she was trying to puke, but nothing came out.
“Shit.” Jerry leaped around the table, pulled her out of the chair, positioned his fist right under her breastbone and jerked.
Melody hacked a glob of half-chewed doughnut onto the table. Then she sucked in a huge breath and started coughing. Jerry held onto her as she recovered, the shock of the choking episode fading away as something else took its place. He liked the way her body fit against his and was a little creeped out by the fact that it was turning him on. She had some nice curves going on under that shirt. The kind that probably sang desert songs when she walked.
This was wrong. So wrong. So very, very wrong. What kind of a monster was he? She was a victim of some as-yet-undetermined crime who had just nearly bought it, thanks to a doughnut he’d given her, and he was turned on?
“You okay?” Jerry let her go and backed up before his body betrayed him.
Melody spun around and threw her arms around his neck. She smelled like spice and some dense, dark perfume. “You saved me.”
“It’s my job.” Jerry put his hands on her hips, intending to push her away, and liked it too much to do it right away. Her flesh was soft without being sloppy. She fit in his hands like a dream. When he did summon the willpower, he found that she had a stranglehold on him. “Melody, you need to let me go.”
“I don’t want to. Please, I don’t have anywhere to go.” She started sobbing.
Oh crap. Jerry patted her back. “There, there. There, there.” He always felt like a tool when women started crying. She needed a hot meal, a warm bed and a psych evaluation. None of those were things he could provide. “Go ahead and cry. You’ll feel better.” One of them should feel better. He was just going to keep feeling like a heel for thinking about her soft body under that shirt.
* * * *
Melody peered through the glass in the door of the interview room. Jerry had left her alone a long time ago. He’d held her for a quite a while when she’d cried. Then he’d put her back in her chair and left her alone with the coffee and the doughnuts.
He’d been aroused. That pleased her. Even though she wasn’t a genie anymore, she could still make a man want her. Jerry was nice. He was very strong and kind. Young too. He would live a long time. Attractive, even. Tall and lean, the way she liked them. Blond hair and blue eyes. Being in his arms had felt good but being under him would feel better. He would be a good master.
Except she didn’t need to accept whatever master she got. Melody frowned. She wasn’t a genie anymore, and things had changed since she was a human woman last. Even if her mother wasn’t long dead, she wouldn’t be choosing Melody’s next master or husband and neither would Fate by dropping her lamp into someone’s path. Freedom meant she could pick her own master. Billy had freed her just like he always promised. Was it wise to choose the first one who came along?
But she liked Jerry. He was kind and gentle. He brought doughnuts. Her stomach growled.
Doughnuts. The doughnuts and coffee Jerry brought her were tasty, but not very satisfying. Especially after all that time in the closet. She peered out the door again. If Jerry would just come back, he could take her home and she could cook him a nice meal and then satisfy him.