Another minute. Maybe two, three, ten. She was embarrassed to realize her whole body was shaking uncontrollably. And she was sweating. She could feel the beads of perspiration dotting her brow, rolling down her cheeks. For an instant, she was seized by the overwhelming compulsion to bolt back down the stairs and race out the door. She’d flee the scene. Run away and never look back.

Alex’s fingers, enmeshed in her own.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said quietly. “Anytime you want, D.D., we can walk away. I’ll drive you home.”

That did it. His voice was so patient, so understanding, she had no choice but to grit her teeth and steel her spine. She did not want to be this person. This weak, trembling woman who required her husband’s support just to climb the damn stairs.

She inhaled, counting to five. Then exhaled. Then got her head up.

“I’m sorry,” she said shortly, looking at anything but Alex’s face. “Clearly, time to boost the cardio.”

“D.D.”

“All this lying around. Doesn’t do a body good.”

“D.D.”

“Maybe instead of naming my pain, I should force it to run laps instead. That’d teach it.”

“Stop.”

“What?”

“Don’t lie to me. If you need to lie to yourself, fair enough. But don’t lie to me. This is the first time back at a crime scene since your accident. That you’re suffering some kind of panic attack—”

“I don’t panic!”

“Some kind of emotional response isn’t unwarranted. You’re not carved out of stone, sweetheart.” Alex’s voice grew gentle. “You’re a real person. And real people feel fear and pain and uncertainty. It doesn’t make you weak. It just means you’re human.”

“I don’t panic,” she muttered, still looking away. Then, because she simply had to know: “Is the dog okay?”

“Staying at the neighbor’s, which I gather was already like a second home to her.”

“She was covered in blood. The dog, right? Only way a smear this big . . . The dog’s legs, stomach, would have to be covered in blood. From the mattress. From lying down next to her owner and the mounds and mounds of flayed skin . . .”

“We can go home, D.D., anytime you’d like.”

“When the wind blows,” she murmured.

“What’s that?”

She merely smiled, then got her head up and her shoulders back. “And down will come baby, cradle and all.”

She continued down the hall.

• • •