Concern shot through me. Was she dying? Did she have a disease? Or worse, cancer?

“Can I at least try?” I asked. “I’m really good at helping people.”

“You’ll think it’s stupid and send me back.”

“Back?”

She bit down and slumped in her chair. “To the home. I’m number ten. I’m next, and I’m going to die soon.”

13

I’m fairly certain that, given a cape and a nice tiara, I could save the world.

—TRUE FACT

I guess I should’ve been thankful we were getting somewhere, but her imminent death was a tad disturbing. Did she have access to an assassin’s hit list? A serial killer’s project board? A psychopath’s scrapbook? How could she know such a thing?

“What makes you say that, hon?”

Her fist tightened around her fork, and I could only hope she wasn’t the violent sort. I eased back just in case. I liked the number of holes in my face at the moment.

“It’s the curse,” she said, coughing again. “I got sick like all the others.”

“The others?” I asked. This was going nowhere good.

“I live in a children’s home. Nine other kids have gotten sick and died. Nine in the last seven years. And now I have the same symptoms. That’s why I ran away.” Tears threatened to push past her thick lashes. “We call it the Harbor House Curse, and I’m next, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.” She looked up at me. “Not even you.”

Fear so palpable, I could taste it pour out of her. I reached out and put my hand over hers. She didn’t pull away, which surprised me.

“There are three things wrong with your theory.”

She pulled away after all. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me. Adults never do.”

“First,” I said, reaching out to bring her back to me, “remember the whole superpower thing? I know you’re not lying.”

I didn’t mention the fact that I could only sense when someone knew they were lying. If she believed she was cursed, right or wrong, she wouldn’t be lying.

“Second,” I said, letting go of her hand but staying close, “you’ve never met me. You have no idea what I am capable of.” Hell, I didn’t know myself, so I was fairly certain she didn’t. “I have a way of finding out how to solve the most impossible of problems. Even the ones that nobody believes they can do anything about.”

For the first time since she sat down, hope shone on her pretty face.

“And third,” I said, lifting her chin until her gaze met mine again, “whoever thinks they can put curses on kids and get away with it has never met me, either.”

She swallowed hard and asked, “You really think you can stop it?”

“I will do everything in my power to stop it, and I have a lot of power.”

She smiled and sat back in her chair, her future suddenly not as dire as she’d previously thought.

“I mean, I can’t fly or anything. Or stop a bullet. Though I did stop a knife once. With my leg. I still have the scars if you wanna see.”

That finally got another giggle out of her. Soft and hoarse, much too raspy. I really wanted her checked out by a doctor, but I wasn’t sure how to go about it without drawing unwanted attention. Surely, there were alerts out all over the state.

And no way could I leave her to fend for herself. Nor could I take her to the station. They’d send her back to the home before the ink dried on my arrest papers because then I’d have to kidnap her. Not an option.

Until I had time to look into her story, she was not going back to Harbor House, which sounded like the setting for a horror movie. Why was it all the evil places in horror movies had such promising, uplifting names?

But all this raised the question of where to put her. With the case we already had and everything going on with Cookie and Amber and the ex, I didn’t want to burden Cook any more than was absolutely necessary. A runaway could not be good for the stress levels, no matter how sweet.

Then it hit me, and a slow smile spread across my face. “Will you trust me?” I asked her.

“I already do. That’s dumb, huh? I don’t even know you.”

“Not dumb at all. I just want you to stay with a friend of mine. She’s a bit quirky and keeps odd hours.”

“I like quirky,” she said, putting on a brave face but jumping at the chance to get off the streets. I should have known. She was scared and alone.

“Perfect,” I said, already going over my to-do list where Heather was concerned. “But first, what do you say we split one of their infamous sweet rolls?”