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did this. I’m going to get this guy no matter what.”
    Adam nodded his understanding and empathized with her. A person capable of destroying a family as though they were without value or worth did not belong on the streets.
    “Was the boy a witness?” Adam asked.
    “I don’t know. I think so, but I’m not sure. We found him hiding in the back of his mother’s closet beneath some folded blankets and clutching his teddy bear. His hair was plastered to his head with sweat and his clothes…” She took a deep breath. “His pajamas were splattered with…” She tried to shake the image out of her head and sighed heavily. “After we found him, we took a second hard look at the crime scene. Some of the smears could have been his footprints near his mother’s body and, again, in the kitchen by his father.”
    Adam looked at the sleeping child and his heart constricted. It would be hard enough to help a small boy rid himself of the fear of monsters after the experience he’d had. An autistic boy would present a bigger challenge. Anger simmered right beneath the surface. In his profession, no matter how often he’d come in contact with the face of evil, it still never ceased to surprise him. “Did he say anything when you found him?”
    Liz shook her head. “Sal and I found him. He took one look at our uniforms and got hysterical. Remembering what Kate had told me about uniforms, I slipped on one of his mother’s blouses. I told Sal to call the paramedics and to go into Dave Henderson’s closet and find shirts, hopefully large enough, for everyone to wear until we could get the child calmed down.
    “But Jeremy continued to scream and thrash about so much I had to forcibly hold him down until the paramedics arrived so he wouldn’t hurt himself. I wrapped my arms around him and held him against me as tightly as I could. After a few moments, it seemed to calm him.”
    Adam nodded. “You did the right thing. Many autistic children can’t tolerate light touch but crave deep pressure. Just like we swaddle infants in blankets to provide them with a sense of security, sometimes autistic children experience sensory overload and need swaddling as well to help them calm themselves.”
    She washed a hand over her face and Adam realized just how exhausted she was.
    He walked around the bed and stood beside her. He had to fight the urge to pull her into his arms and comfort her. But after what he’d done, the poor choices, the mistakes, he didn’t deserve her friendship or her forgiveness—yet. But that wasn’t going to stop him from trying. What he needed was time to prove he had changed and convince her that he was worth a second chance.
    Instead, he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You need to go home, Lizzie, and get some sleep. Doctor’s orders.” He grinned, trying to lighten the somber mood.
    “I can’t. I have to get to the office. I’m sure the state boys have arrived by now. We have to form a task force and discuss investigation strategies.”
    “Call your office on the way home. Delegate tasks to other people.” He clasped her forearms and gently pulled her up to face him. “I’ve heard you are a good sheriff, Lizzie Bradford. Rumor has it that you are a great sheriff. But an exhausted, dead-on-her-feet sheriff isn’t going to get the job done. Go home. Grab a couple of hours’ sleep. The state police will still be here when you wake up.”
    “You’re right.” She smiled at him and there it was again, that bolt of sunshine hitting him in the face. Her smiles had always had that effect on him. They looked into each other’s eyes. Slowly, a tension, an awareness of past relationships, past hurts surfaced between them and he watched again as memories stole her smile away. She broke eye contact, glanced over her shoulder at the boy and said, “Please take good care of him, Dr. Morgan.”
    She crossed the room and paused in the doorway. “And Adam…” When she had his attention, she