She had been hurt.

The evidence of it was plain on her face and on her thin wrists, and it was, to anyone with working eyes, the evidence of someone who had been held down and struck, not of someone who had launched an attack.

A paramedic was crouched in front of her, gentle, murmuring.

When she saw me, her composure broke all over again.

“Valerie.”

I crossed the room in two steps and went down on one knee in front of her and took both her cold hands in both of mine.