A Measure of Blood by Kathleen George

“Mom?” He smooths his hand over her arm. “Mom?” She doesn’t moan, nothing. “Can she hear me?” Matt looks to the doctor.
    â€œNo, I’m sorry,” the doctor says. “She can’t.”
    Finally, he lets them take him away.
    The detective says, “You must be getting tired.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWe’d like to get you to bed.”
    Matt sits down in the conference room again. He wonders why they have a TV if isn’t on. She breathed and then she didn’t. They said she didn’t. They said …
    MATT WAS ASLEEP.
    Christie lifted him. “It’s okay. I’ll take him in my car. If I don’t remember how to lift a sleeping kid, I don’t remember anything.”
    â€œYours are that age?” Oopale asked.
    â€œNo. Older now.” He lifted the boy and carried him out to the hallway. Colleen followed behind. She was on her phone. He said to Oopale, “I’ll follow you, I’ll carry him into your place.”
    â€œThanks. Thank you.”
    They kept walking down the sterile hallway where a janitor paused, watching them to be sure he could bear witness if they were characters up to no good.
    They got outside to the car.
    Oopale pointed to a small red Nissan. “That’s mine.”
    Christie laid the boy in the backseat of his car. Colleen caught up with him. She was looking at her watch. It was something close to one.
    â€œGo home,” he said.
    â€œI said I’d start at five tomorrow.”
    He heard her asking for sleep. “Make it seven. This case has two aspects. Find the murderer. Take care of the kid. If we spend a lot of time on the second, it … can’t be helped.”
    Christie calculated. He’d get the boy to bed and then he’d call Jan and Arthur. He needed to tell them before they heard it from some other source that the boy had run away but was now found.
    THE BUILDING THAT OOPALE LIVED IN WITH HER FAMILY, and that Maggie Brown had lived in with her son, had a front door that didn’t use a security lock or a phone system. Christie was glad to see a cop on duty at the entrance. “I probably need you inside, outside the apartment door,” he grunted while holding Matt in the sack-of-potatoes position over his shoulder.
    â€œWe have another officer upstairs for that.”
    â€œOh. Good, good.” This kid wasn’t getting out tonight. Christie mounted the stairs to the second floor.
    â€œAre you all right?” Oopale asked.
    â€œAlmost there,” he said.
    She fumbled for a key while he looked at the police-taped door of Maggie Brown’s place. Finally Oopale opened the door to the Panikkar apartment.
    Sasha hadn’t asked to take Matt nor had Grady’s or Jade’s parents. Well, maybe they all thought he was spoken for. Oopale led him to the room that Matt had run away from. It was colorful, pretty, and had a sweet smell. But it was also a smothering sort of room, not something a boy would like.
    â€œShould we try to undress him?” she asked.
    â€œI think he’ll be happier if we leave him as he is. The room is hot.”
    â€œYes. I think my parents turned off the air conditioner to save money. I’ll put it back on.” She did so and pulled one thin layer of cover up over Matt. And then they left him.
    â€œWould you like something to eat?”
    The spices he smelled alarmed him. His stomach couldn’t take exotic foods. “No, thank you. I live just ten minutes away.”
    â€œSure?”
    He was almost dizzy with hunger. “Okay. Just a piece of toast.”
    â€œToast?”
    â€œIf possible.”
    The elder Panikkars poked their heads out of a doorway.
    Oopale said, “It’s okay. Go to bed. It’s the detective. He brought Matt back.”
    â€œGive him something to eat,” her father croaked.
    â€œI will, I will. Don’t worry.”
    The parents went back to bed.
    â€œWe have