“Trent,” he barked. “I want to talk to your partner right now. Go get her. We’re taking her to the station.”

Will shot Amanda a look as she navigated the rickety stairs in her high heels. She shook her head once. There was nothing more she could do.

To his surprise, it was Sara who saved them. “I have to examine her first.”

Geary wasn’t pleased to be met with resistance. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m a trauma doc from the Grady ER.” Sara deftly left out her name. “I’m here to evaluate Agent Mitchell so that any testimony she gives will be admissible.” She tilted her head to the side. “I’m sure it’s not your policy to take statements under duress.”

Geary snorted. “She’s not under duress.”

Sara raised an eyebrow. “Is that your official position? Because I would hate to have to testify that you conducted a coercive interrogation against medical advice.”

Confusion clouded in on Geary’s anger. Doctors were usually more than willing to help the police, but they had the power to shut down any interview if they thought it would jeopardize their patient. Still, Geary tried. “What kind of medical treatment does she need?”

Sara didn’t back down. “I can’t tell you that until I evaluate her. She could be in shock. She could be injured. She could need hospitalization. Maybe I should just transfer her to the hospital right now and start running tests.” Sara turned around to call to the EMTs.

“Wait.” Geary hissed out a curse, telling Amanda, “Your bullshit stalling tactics are being noted, Deputy Director.”

Her smile was fake sweetness and light. “It’s always nice to be recognized for something.”

Geary announced, “I want her blood drawn and taken to an independent lab for a full tox screen. You think you can do that, Doctor?”

Sara nodded. “Of course.”

Will put his hand back under Sara’s arm and led her toward the neighbor’s house. As soon as they were out of earshot, he said, “Thank you.”

Again, she pulled away from him as they walked up the driveway. By the time they reached the front porch, she was several feet ahead, though the distance between them felt more like a chasm. This wasn’t the Sara from half an hour ago. Maybe it was the crime scene, though Will had seen her on a crime scene before. Sara had been a coroner at one time. She was far from out of her element. Will didn’t know what to do about the change. He had spent a lifetime gauging the moods of other people, but getting a read on this particular woman was beyond his abilities.

The door opened and Mrs. Levy peered at them from behind her thick glasses. She was wearing a yellow housedress that was frayed at the collar. A white apron with baby geese waddling around the hem was wrapped around her thin waist. Her heels hung out of the back of her matching yellow bedroom slippers. She was somewhere north of eighty, but her mind was sharp and she clearly cared for Faith. “Is this the doctor? I was told to only let a doctor in.”

Sara answered, “Yes, ma’am. I’m the doctor.”

“Well, aren’t you pretty? Come on in. What a crazy day this has been.” Mrs. Levy stepped aside, throwing wide the door so they could come into the foyer. Her breath whistled through her false teeth. “I’ve had more visitors this afternoon than I’ve had all year.”

The living room was sunken a few steps and furnished much as it probably had been when Mrs. Levy first bought the house. Harvest gold wall-to-wall shag carpet was flattened to the floor. The couch was a tightly cushioned, mustard-colored sectional. The only update to the décor was a recliner that looked like the kind that had a mechanical lift to make it easier to get in and out of. The only light in the room came from the flickering console television set. Faith was slumped on the couch with Emma held to her shoulder. All of the talk had drained out of her. Her spirit seemed to have gone with it. This was more what Will had been expecting when he’d heard that Faith was involved in a shooting. She tended to go quiet when she was really upset. But this wasn’t quite right, either.

She was too quiet.

“Faith?” he said. “Dr. Linton is here.”

She stared at the muted television, not answering. In some ways, Faith looked worse than she had before. Her lips were as white as her skin. Sweat gave her face a luminescence. Her blonde hair was matted to her head. Her breathing was shallow. Emma made a cooing sound, but Faith didn’t seem to notice.

Sara turned on the overhead light before kneeling in front of her. “Faith? Can you look at me?”

Faith’s eyes were still on the set. Will took the moment to slip on his jeans over his shorts. He felt a lump in his back pocket and pulled out his watch and wallet.

“Faith?” Sara’s voice became louder, firmer. “Look at me.”

Slowly, she looked at Sara.

“Why don’t you give me Emma?”

Her words slurred. “Sh’sleeping.”

Sara wrapped her hands around Emma’s waist. Gently, she lifted the baby from Faith’s shoulder. “Look at her. She’s gotten so big.” Sara did a cursory exam, looking into Emma’s eyes, checking her fingers and toes, then her gums. “I think she’s a little dehydrated.”

Mrs. Levy offered, “I’ve got a bottle ready, but she wouldn’t let me give it to her.”

“Why don’t you go get it now?” Sara motioned for Will to come over. He took Emma. She was surprisingly heavy. He put her on his shoulder. Her head fell against his neck like a moist sack of flour.

“Faith?” Sara spoke succinctly, as if she was trying to get an old person’s attention. “How are you feeling?”

“Took her to the doctor.”

“You took Emma?” Sara cupped Faith’s face in her hand. “What did the doctor say?”

“Dunno.”

“Can you look at me?”

Faith’s mouth moved like she was chewing gum.

“What’s today, sweetie? Can you tell me what day of the week it is?”

She pulled away her head. “No.”

“That’s all right.” Sara pressed open Faith’s eyelid. “When’s the last time you had something to eat?”

She didn’t answer. Mrs. Levy came back with the bottle. She handed it to Will, and he cradled Emma in his arm so that she could drink.

“Faith? When is the last time you had something to eat?”

Faith tried to push Sara away. When that didn’t work, she pushed harder.

Sara kept talking, holding down Faith’s hands. “Was it this morning? Did you eat breakfast this morning?”

“Go ’way.”

Sara turned to Mrs. Levy. “You’re not diabetic, are you?”

“No, dear, but my husband was. Passed away almost twenty years ago, bless his soul.”

Sara told Will, “She’s having an insulin reaction. Where’s her purse?”

Mrs. Levy supplied, “She didn’t have it when they brought her here. Maybe she left it in the car.”

Again, Sara directed her words to Will. “She should have an emergency kit in her purse. It’s plastic. It says ‘Glucagon’ on the side.” She seemed to remember herself. “It’s oblong, about the size of a pen case. Bright red or orange. Get it for me now, please.”