There was a crowd around her, everyone coming out of the buildings that formed the small square of downtown Papillon. They were watching on, some of the women crying. But she needed help.

It came in the form of her nurse. Mabel was running like a damn track star as she rounded the building, Lila’s kit in her hand. She was in her scrubs and Peanut was chasing after her.

“I’ve got this.” Mabel dropped to her knees. “I’ll put the tourniquet on. You go deal with the baby.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Noelle. Her face was flushed and she appeared out of breath.

Smart girl. She’d gotten Mabel and now they had a chance.

“We’re going to need water and maybe more towels. Someone get them.” It was often best in an emergency to give people something to do. “And clear a way for the ambulance.”

Comfortable that Mabel knew what she was doing, Lila raced to the truck. Her slacks were coated in blood, but she couldn’t think about that right now. Armie had the baby in his hands. She was running on pure adrenaline, a drug she knew well. It had fueled her many a crazy night in the ER. Adrenaline made her stronger, faster, more able to focus. It took her to that place where she could do what she needed to do.

The baby was turning blue. There was no blood on the child. “Was she restrained properly?”

“What? Momma?” Hallie was coming to, but Lila didn’t have time to update her.

“Yes, I had to get her out of the car seat,” Armie replied to her question.

She held her hands out to Armie, glancing into the car. Armie immediately went to Hallie, who was starting to understand that something had gone terribly wrong.

“Gracie!” Hallie was fighting to get out of her seat belt. “Where’s my baby?”

She left Armie to deal with Hallie. She needed to figure out why Gracie wasn’t breathing. There was a car seat where it should be and a diaper bag beside it. The scent of burnt chemicals filled the air, letting her know without seeing it that the airbags had deployed. Her brain quickly processed the scene, the visuals clicking into place. Baby girl’s hands were covered in doughy goo. It smelled like vanilla. Teething biscuit. She’d been gnawing on a teething biscuit and the accident had caused a chunk to lodge in her throat.

The baby’s eyes were open, desperation clear in those blue orbs. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t cry.

Lila flipped the baby over, cradling the one-year-old head in her hand. She put her foot on the running board and rested her arm along with the baby on her thigh. The baby’s delicate jaw was cradled between her thumb and forefinger.

She was ready.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.