Wicked Brew by Amanda M. Lee

even have a case here. We have an abandoned child who was found wandering around the countryside in a state she doesn’t legally reside in.”
    “I think something else is going on,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.
    “What?” Clove asked.
    “I don’t know,” I said. “I just think Annie is struggling with something, and we have to give her the chance to tell us what it is. She needs time.”
    “She doesn’t have time,” Chief Terry said. “Her grandparents are going to be here for her tomorrow. She’s going to be put into their custody.”
    “NO!”
    We all jolted at the sound of the voice. Annie was standing in the archway between the kitchen and dining room, and her green eyes were wide and filled with terror as she stared at us.
    I took a step toward her. “You talked.”
    Annie’s face crumpled as she dissolved into tears.
    “It’s okay,” I said, reaching for her so I could draw her in for a hug. “It’s good to talk.”
    Annie shook her head. Her body was trembling. I turned to Marcus for help. He immediately swooped in and gathered her up in his arms. He sat down on one of the open chairs at the table and rocked her while she cried.
    “It’s okay,” he said. “We won’t let anyone hurt you.”
    “He’s right,” I said. “Everyone here wants to help you. We need you to speak if we’re going to do it, though.”
    “That’s right, Basil,” Aunt Tillie said, touching the top of the girl’s head as Marcus swayed with her in his arms. “Tell us what happened.”
    It’s funny. I don’t remember Aunt Tillie being particularly sweet when we were children. There were times, though, and it was usually when we’d done something wrong and were in trouble with our mothers. She was the one who swooped in with a hug – and usually a reward – to make us feel better. What can I say? The woman does like her mayhem. She was often the one who encouraged us to be naughty. Now? Now Aunt Tillie was bolstering Annie the best way she knew how, and I couldn’t help but be thankful for it.
    “So, Basil, tell us what you remember,” Aunt Tillie prodded.
    “I don’t like the name Basil,” Annie said.
    “Well, if you want me to stop using it, you have to tell me what you remember,” Aunt Tillie said. She was back to being herself, and I couldn’t help but be thankful for that, too. If anyone could push Annie into talking, it was her.
    “I don’t know what I remember,” Annie admitted, her lower lip trembling. “I … it’s all fuzzy.”
    “Okay,” I said, keeping my voice level. “Let’s talk about home. Do you remember being home with your mother?”
    Annie nodded.
    “What’s the last thing you remember about home?” I asked.
    “I remember Mommy picking me up from school,” Annie said. “She seemed sad. She said we were leaving. She said we were going to move to a new place. She had a bunch of my stuff in the car.”
    “That’s good,” I encouraged her.
    Marcus rubbed her back. He was still rocking her, but the movements were deliberate and slight. He was lulling her into a feeling of safety.
    “Did you drive straight here?” Landon asked.
    “We drove a long time,” Annie said. “We had a new house. It was by itself.”
    “By itself?”
    “There were no other houses around like before,” Annie said. “It was just our house.”
    “How big was the house?” Chief Terry asked.
    Annie shrugged.
    “Was it as big as this house?” I asked.
    Annie shook her head.
    “Was it a lot smaller?”
    “There were only two bedrooms,” Annie said. “One for me, and one for Mommy.”
    “How long were you in the house?” Bay asked.
    “I don’t know,” Annie said.
    “Did you spend a few nights there?” Bay tried again.
    “Yes,” Annie said. “I was scared because of the trees by the house. Mommy slept in my room with me.”
    “That sounds like a good mommy,” I said.
    “I want my mommy,” Annie said, breaking off into another crying jag.
    I licked my lips. We