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hospital—” Vaughn tried to say.
    “No! Home.”
    “Okay, okay, take it easy. I’ll send the ambulance away when it gets here and take you home myself.”
    She recognized the panic in her voice and warned herself to remain calm. She took a breath, then another, put a little weight on the injured ankle, then let the foot take all the pressure. The pain was bad but not unbearable. “I’ll go home now,” she said.
    “I’ll drive you. Sean will follow in your car.”
    “No, not…” Claire started to say, but she was suddenly overcome with fatigue. “Oh, all right. Where’s my package?”
    “Right here.” Sean wiggled it before her.
    She wanted to demand he hand it over but instead allowed them each to take an arm and help her to the police cruiser. With them at her sides, she didn’t have to put much weight on the ankle and it hardly hurt at all.
    The sound of a siren loomed in the distance. “No hospital.”
    “It’s okay. You can just sign a paper that says you don’t want treatment. But I still think you should go.” Vaughn’s voice was soothing, his grip calm and steady. He threw open the front door of the SUV and helped her inside. He’d left the motor running and it was toasty warm. He patted Claire’s arm. “I’ll go talk to the ambulance guys. Be right back.”
    Claire leaned back on the headrest, the throbbing pulse of her ankle reverberating all the way into her ears. She closed her eyes and willed her brain to ignore it. How easy it would be to fall asleep in this warm, safe haven. Away from her problems.
    Her eyes shot open as Vaughn opened the door. She blinked guiltily; she had indeed fallen asleep. He didn’t seem to notice, just shoved a clipboard in front of her and placed a pen in her right hand. Claire switched it to her left and skimmed down the page looking for the signature line, not bothering to read any of the typewritten words. She scrawled her name and the date and handed the things back to him.
    Rain pounded down, echoing inside the SUV like a tunnel. The windshield wipers were on full speed and still she couldn’t see the road ahead. Vaughn drove so slowly she thought she could have walked faster. If she could walk, that is. Then it dawned on her that she wouldn’t be walking much at all for the next few days, possibly weeks. Claire said a quick prayer the ankle wasn’t broken. She hadn’t heard anything snap. She’d read that when women reached a certain age, their bones tended to be a little more brittle and wondered if she’d reached that age yet. She was only forty-three and had taken good care of herself: mammograms, vitamins, the works.
    Vaughn pulled the police SUV to a stop and cast a concerned glance at her. He opened his mouth to speak but clapped it shut when she shot him an icy glare. Sean swung her little car through the river of rain at the side of the road and into her driveway. She tried not to let her emotions reach her face as he raced toward them.
    Vaughn ran around to open her door. “Give me your house keys.”
    “He’s got them,” she said.
    “Okay, swivel on the seat and put your feet on the sidewalk.”
    Claire banged her foot on the door, and a stab of pain went up her leg, but she didn’t flinch. Wouldn’t. Both feet were on the ground. She reached out for something solid and felt herself grasped on each side by strong hands. They practically carried her across the sidewalk, up her recently swept walkway and onto her nice dry front porch. Home. On her right side, Sean’s hands burned through the jacket, cotton blouse, and into her upper arm. Each finger etched into her like torches.
    The key rattled in the old lock. Sean wiggled it, then rattled it again. She was just about to jerk the keys from his hands when the door sailed open. A blast of warm chocolate scented air rushed outside.
    “Mmm.” Sean put his nose in the air and sniffed, like a wolf scenting out a rabbit. “Do I smell one of your famous chocolate cakes?”
    “It’s