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jacket. The terror, the pain and fear – all of it seemed to collapse. She hugged the jacket against her chest, burying her face in the fabric and rocking back and forth, back and forth.
    The ambulance was here now. It had pulled up to the bottom of the driveway without the sirens or spinning red lights. Thank God for small favors.
    ‘You really found a way out?’ the woman asked.
    ‘I did. And I’m going to take you out with me.’
    Every part of Darby’s body screamed at her not to do it, but she ignored the warning and held out her hand.
    The woman gripped it fiercely. Two of her fingers had been recently broken and had healed at sharp, painful angles. Splinters covered her arms.
    The woman was watching the ceiling again.
    ‘There’s nothing to be afraid of anymore,’ Darby said. ‘You’re going to hold my hand and we’re going to walk out this door together. You’re safe.’

Chapter 10
    Much to Darby’s surprise (and her considerable relief), the woman didn’t scream or put up a fight when she stepped out into the driveway of blinking lights. She squeezed Darby’s hand.
    ‘Nobody here is going to hurt you,’ Darby said, reaching for her umbrella. She didn’t want to risk having the rain wash away any potential evidence. ‘Nobody here is going to hurt you, I promise.’
    The woman pressed the jacket against her face and started sobbing. Darby slipped an arm around the woman’s waist. Her bones felt as frail and as delicate as a bird’s.
    Taking slow, careful steps, she guided the woman toward the waiting ambulance. Standing by the front doors were two EMTs. One of them was holding a syringe.
    There was no way around this part. They had to sedate her. Best to do it out here, in the open, in case things turned nasty again. It would be harder to confine her inside the ambulance’s tight space.
    Both EMTs circled behind the woman. Cops were hovering close by, ready to intervene, if necessary.
    ‘We’re almost there,’ Darby whispered. ‘Just keep holding my hand, and everything will be fine.’
    The EMT sunk the needle into the woman’s buttock. Darby tensed, bracing herself for the worst. The woman didn’t flinch.
    When the woman’s eyes fluttered, the EMTs took over.
    ‘Don’t strap her in yet,’ Darby said. I’m going to need her shirt and to take some pictures.’
    Coop was already standing outside with his kit. There wasn’t much space to work in the ambulance. Darby, small and petite, got inside while Coop stood near the back doors. They wore masks to help with the odor. The woman’s sick, raspy breathing could be heard over the rain pelting the ambulance roof.
    Mary Beth handed Darby the camera. She took pictures of the woman lying on her back, then closeups of the tear marks on the black T-shirt.
    Using a pair of scissors, Darby cut a straight line up the T-shirt’s neckline, and then made two more cuts, one to each armpit. She slid the T-shirt off the woman’s body, exposing her chest. The pale skin, marred with thick scars and sores and cuts that hadn’t healed, had sunken far below the ribs.
    ‘It’s a miracle she didn’t die of heart arrhythmia,’ Mary Beth said.
    Darby moved the woman onto her side. She folded the T-shirt and dropped it inside the evidence bag Coop was holding.
    ‘Let’s get fingernail scrapings,’ Darby said.
    Darby did an oral swab on the insides of the woman’s cheeks. Coop used a wooden toothpick under the woman’s thumbnail. It tore in half and started to bleed.
    ‘What the hell happened to her?’ Coop asked.
    I wish to God I knew. ‘Let’s get her fingerprinted,’ Darby said.

Chapter 11
    The Serology Lab is a long and airy rectangular room of black-slab countertops often referred to as benches. The high windows overlook some green hills, twin basketball courts and, directly below them, a concrete promenade with picnic tables where people ate lunch in the nice weather.
    Leland Pratt, the lab director, was waiting for Darby by the door. He