She seemed to have no reticence with strangers. But then her mother had been a very social person with a lot of friends who had come into Haley’s life on a regular basis. She had probably never had a reason to fear adults—until now. Vince wondered if that would change for her once the memories of what had happened came back to her. Probably.

“Will you play with me?” she asked.

“Sure,” Vince said. “What are we playing?”

“We’re playing you’re the daddy and I’m the little girl.”

“Okay. What do I have to do?”

“Read me and Honey-Bunny a story.”

“All right. You go pick out a book.”

She went to a basket full of toys and books Franny had brought over on loan and pulled one out, then came back and scrambled up in the chair with him, settling herself comfortably into the crook of his arm.

“Do you like to read stories?” Vince asked.

“I can’t read,” she told him. “I’m just little.”

“Does your real daddy read you stories?” He winced a little at the mental image of Anne kicking him in the shins for that.

Haley paid no attention to him as she opened the cover of the story-book.

“What about Zander?” he asked. “Does Zander ever read you stories?”

“Zander is weird,” she said without looking up.

“Weird how?”

She shrugged. “Just weird. He doesn’t like to touch anything. Isn’t that funny? Mommy says he’s fraggle.”

“What does fraggle mean?”

“I don’t know. Why does your shirt have a horse on it?” she asked, scratching at the purple Ralph Lauren logo on the black polo shirt.

“That’s a symbol for the company that made it,” he said. Fraggle? What the heck was fraggle?

“I like horses,” Haley said. “I’m gonna get a pony when I’m five.” She held up her small hand, fingers splayed wide to show him she knew how much five was.

Fraggle? Fragile?

“Did your mommy say fragile?”

Haley nodded. “Fraggle. What does that mean?”

“When someone is fragile it’s easy to upset them or hurt their feelings.”

Haley had already lost interest in the subject and was turning the pages of the book.

“Does Zander ever scare you, honey?” Vince asked.

She frowned but didn’t answer. “Do you know Zander?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Isn’t he weird?”

“Yeah, I’d have to say so,” Vince admitted.

“Read the story!” Haley said impatiently.

“Does your mommy read you stories?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes she makes up stories. She makes me books sometimes and paints the pictures in them.”

“That’s very special,” Vince said. “Are you missing your mommy?”

A faraway look came into her eyes and she said nothing for a moment. Finally, she said quietly, “My mommy fell down and got hurt.”

“I know,” Vince said softly. Anne was going to kill him. “Were you there when your mommy got hurt, sweetheart?”