I laid her on the shaded back seat, kept the door open for access, and positioned myself between her and the direct sun.

Her fingers curled around one of mine.

The boy made a small sound from the box.

“I’ve got you too.”

I reached down for him and saw something pinned beneath the edge of his shirt.

A rusted safety pin held a torn piece of lined paper against the fabric.

I stopped only long enough to make sure the pin was closed and would not catch his skin.

Then I lifted him with the paper still attached.