“Lucy,” she supplied, reading my face. “She escaped yesterday. In fifteen years I’ve never had a child disappear. The hospital is demanding a formal investigation, as well they should. It’s unconscionable that a child can slip through two sets of locked doors and have not a single nurse or milieu counselor notice. For heaven’s sake, we’re lucky nothing worse happened.”

“But I found her!” I protested. “I’m the one who figured out where she went and got her back.”

“You were the one who should’ve been watching her in the first place.”

I hung my head, suitably shamed.

“Then, last night, I understand you and Lucy went a few rounds in the ring. To look at your face, you didn’t win.”

“I dealt with the situation—”

“You weren’t even on the clock, Danielle. You were supposed to be on your way home, not rushing down the hall to tend a child!”

“Lucy started screaming hysterically. What was I supposed to do, sit around and watch? We needed to calm her and I had the best chance of getting it done.”

“Danielle, a child physically attacked you! Your face is covered with scratches; you have bruises on your neck. I’m not worried about Lucy—you did calm her. But it was at a huge price to yourself. We need to debrief as a unit. You need physical and emotional support as an individual. Instead, you’re pretending it’s business as usual. That’s not healthy.”

“I’m fine—”

“You look like hell.”

“It’s been twenty-five fucking years. Of course I look like hell!” Too late I caught the slip, tried to rein myself in. But I was breathing hard and my heart was racing. I wanted to run.

“Have you been drinking?” Karen asked me.

“No.” Not yet.

“Good. For your sake, I’m happy to hear it. But you still can’t work tonight.”

“I have to work tonight. I can contain it. I can be professional. We both know I’m good at my job.”

“Danielle,” she said kindly, “you’re great at your job—when you’re a hundred percent. You aren’t a hundred percent right now, and these kids deserve nothing less.”

She was going to send me home. I couldn’t believe it. Karen was going to let the unit operate short-staffed rather than accept me.

“I want you to go downstairs,” she said now, voice brisk. “You need a medical evaluation, if not for your own sake, then for our insurance company. I’m giving you a five-day leave of absence. Rest. Talk to one of our counselors. Deal with yourself. Then you can return to dealing with these kids.”

I can’t go home, I can’t go home, I can’t go home.

“I’ll go downstairs,” I heard myself say. “I’ll get a physical exam. Then can I come back? If the doctor says so …”

“Danielle …”