“The doctor said it went well considering all her injuries.” Mara’s face buckled momentarily as she struggled to keep her composure. I waited and she went on. “There will be scars.” Mara’s fingers fluttered near her cheek. “But it could have been much worse and Cora is a strong little girl. She’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

“Is Cora awake?” I asked. “Is she in much pain?”

“Some.” Mara nodded. “They’ve been keeping her sedated and she’s pretty out of it. But she’s scared. She’s absolutely terrified. I can tell. She starts to fall asleep and then jolts awake and cries out. I tell her over and over that no one can hurt her anymore, that she’s safe, but…she keeps calling out for whoever did this to her to stop. To please not hurt her anymore and Jim can’t stand it. The police aren’t telling us much right now. They just say they are investigating and once they have information to share they will.”

I nodded sympathetically. This was a common refrain I heard from the families of victims of a crime.

“My oldest daughter, Kendall, won’t stop crying and can’t even look at Cora. Can’t even stand to be in the hospital room with her. My family is falling apart, Dr. Gideon.” Mara’s voice cracked. “One minute we’re hosting an overnight for my daughter and her friends and the next Cora is bleeding next to the train tracks.”

“Are the other girls okay?” I asked.

“As far as I know. We ran into Violet’s mom down in the emergency room but she said that Violet was just being treated for shock.” Mara pressed her fingers to her lips. “Oh, God, that sounded terrible,” she said shakily. “I’m glad she’s okay. I really am.”

“Of course,” I said.

“I need to get back to Cora,” Mara said. “But tomorrow? Do you think you might have some time tomorrow to visit with her?”

“Certainly,” I said. “How about I stop by around eight or so?”

“Maybe closer to nine would be better,” Mara suggested and I wondered if perhaps that was a time her husband wouldn’t be around. It’s not a good sign if one parent is open to my services and the other is not, but it’s a start.

“Nine will be perfect,” I assured her. “Try and get some sleep tonight and I’ll see you in the morning.”

I watched Mara walk wearily down the hallway. I’d seen it hundreds, maybe thousands, of times: the unsteady, almost drunken walk of those suddenly in the midst of a life-changing event. Mara’s equilibrium was off, but with time and help and with some luck she’d gather herself up and see to it that her family get through this and whatever else was to come.