Teresa wasn’t so sure, but she refrained from saying so.

“Fine,” she said, beckoning to Marini. “Let’s hear what your son has to say.”

The boy was sprawled on the bed, his injured leg in a brace. Doctor Ian was by his side, dressing the wound. He smiled when he saw Teresa and Marini.

“How’s he doing?”

“Just needed a couple of stitches and some painkillers. He’ll be ready to go home in an hour or two.”

Ian finished bandaging the wound, secured the gauze with a clip, and took his leave with a nod.

Teresa approached the boy, who’d kept his head turned toward the window. He hadn’t looked at her once.

“I’m . . .”

“I know who you are,” he interjected. “The whole village knows.”

She found a chair and sat down by the bed. Marini stood by the door.

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

“What, my leg? No.”

There were bruises on the boy’s neck, but Teresa was sure that they weren’t the cause of his pain either.

“It’s hard to feel whole again when you’ve had a brush with death,” she said. “Something always breaks.”

He finally looked at her.

“How would you know?”

Teresa was conscious of Marini’s presence behind her and didn’t reply. She turned around and signalled at him to leave. He shot her a look halfway between disappointment and irritation, but in that moment, she had neither the time nor the inclination to explain that sometimes, in their line of work, you had to know when to take a step back and disappear. She waited until the door was closed before focusing on David once more.

“So? How would you know?” the boy asked her again. He’d sniffed out a crack in her armor and wasn’t about to let it go.

Teresa sat on the bed. The mattress sank under her weight and brought them closer. She could feel the boy’s hand against the side of her leg, but she didn’t draw back. Neither did he.

“I almost died once, a long time ago,” she admitted. “I know how it feels.”

David studied her closely.

“An accident?” he asked.

Teresa pursed her lips and shook her head.

“An accident with rather strong arms and legs,” she replied. “He hit quite hard.”

“Who was it? Someone you were arresting?”

“My husband.”

The boy looked at her. He was surprised, and perhaps a little doubtful. Teresa wondered if he would decide to trust her.

“How did it end?” David whispered.

Teresa smiled.

“Very badly, but I’m still alive,” she said.

He lowered his eyes.

“The good thing about how you’re feeling right now,” she told him, “is that it will help you see the true magnitude of things.”

“What things?”

“Life. Its joys and its sorrows.”

David turned his head once more to look at the snow outside the window.