In Harm's Way by Ridley Pearson

played in the background.
    “Lock the doors. Pull the blinds. And leave the phone on while you’re doing it.”
    “What’s going on?”
    “Just do it! Right now! There’s a . . . bear,” she said. “I think there was a bear outside my window just now.”
    “No way!”
    “Kira. Now!”
    “Okay, okay.”
    She heard the girl moving through the rooms, pulling drapes and dropping blinds. Then footfalls returned toward the phone.
    “I don’t see how pulling blinds is going to make any difference to a bear,” Kira said.
    “Are the doors locked?”
    “Yes.”
    “Okay.”
    “You sound so . . . freaked out.”
    “Do I? Sorry. It just scared me, was all.”
    It can’t be . Not again .
    “I think it’s cool. I wouldn’t mind seeing a bear for real.”
    “Do not go near the doors or windows.”
    “Jeez . . . Chill.”
    “You have the baseball bat?”
    “P . . . le . . . ase,” Kira said, drawing the word out dramatically.
    “I’m coming over. Get the bat and stand by the front door and get ready to unlock it for me.”
    “What? Seriously? Why? You don’t need to do that, Fiona. I’m fine. I don’t need a babysitter.”
    “I know you don’t,” Fiona said. She paused, looking near the front door for her running shoes. “But I think I do.”

8
    T he young man wasn’t prepared for the formality of the interview room, just as Walt had hoped. He was accompanied by his father, who was fit and ruggedly handsome, and his attorney, Terry, for whom Walt had a great deal of respect. The boy shared his father’s good looks, broad shoulders, and deep voice, though the combination belied his boyish, naïve eyes.
    Terry Hogue, a sizable, well-dressed man with a commanding presence, displayed the calmness of an academic. “As to the nature of the inquiry, Sheriff, I’d like to restate that my client, Mr. Donaldson, is here of his own volition, that is, voluntarily, and has not been charged with any crime.”
    “That’s correct, Terry.”
    “That Mr. Donaldson is willing to cooperate with your investigation, if any, and that nothing said here today is being recorded and may not be used against him.”
    “Agreed.”
    “That said,” Hogue continued, “I’ve asked my client to clear his answers with me before responding, so he may seek my advice, which I’m here to give. We apologize in advance for any delays that may cause.”
    “Understood.”
    “It’s all yours,” Hogue said.
    “Mr. Donaldson . . . may I call you Brian? Brian, are you in a relationship with Dionne Fancelli, of eighteen Alturas Drive?”
    The nervous boy looked to Hogue, who nodded his assent.
    “Yeah. Me and Di are boyfriend, girlfriend.”
    “And we’re all aware of Ms. Fancelli’s medical condition,” Walt said. “That is, that she’s pregnant, with child.”
    The boy nodded regretfully, without checking with Hogue. The father fidgeted in his chair.
    “Sheriff,” Hogue said, “let’s be clear that acknowledging the young woman’s medical condition by no means implies my client’s role in that matter.”
    “Which is why we’re here, Terry. Right?”
    “We’re here as a result of your invitation,” Hogue clarified.
    “Have you had sexual intercourse with Ms. Fancelli?” Walt asked the boy.
    The boy looked to Hogue, who spoke for him. “My client will not comment on the physical nature of his and Ms. Fancelli’s friendship.”
    “I assume we’re all aware that Ms. Fancelli is claiming the child is your client’s,” Walt said to the attorney, since Hogue was the one answering.
    “We’re aware of the claim,” Hogue said, “but again, we are making no statement about the physical or sexual nature of their relationship.”
    “We’re also all aware that Ms. Fancelli is fifteen.”
    Silence.
    “I will assume Mr. Hogue has briefed you on the quirky nature of Idaho law,” Walt said to the boy. “Idaho accepts sexual relationships between adolescents of similar ages. But you must be at least eighteen years old