“Tessa’s with a nurse,” he told me.

“My sister’s there now.

She’s being treated.

They want to watch her eyes and skin overnight.”

I tried to make sense of the words.

Overnight meant she was alive.

Being treated meant someone knew what to do.

My relief came in a painful rush, followed immediately by the question I couldn’t stop asking.

“Did she ask for me?”

“Every ten minutes.”

I almost folded.

Brian caught my elbow, but I pulled away.

I could not bear to be comforted by anyone until I knew why he had let Harold stand in our living room after months of warnings.

Ruiz moved carefully around the table.