“You’re insane,” Lisa said, applying the final layer of moist blue fiberglass tape to Eve’s short-arm cast. It was perhaps the fifth or sixth time her sister had shared that observation, in one form or another, since Eve came into the West Hills Hospital ER. Eve had lost count of how many other people had expressed the same sentiment over the last two hours.

Eve sat on the edge of the gurney and looked across the chaotic ER full of firefighters and civilians injured in the blaze to the set of closed doors where doctors, an LASD detective experienced in crimes against children, and a Los Angeles County caseworker from Child Protective Services were taking care of Caitlin.

The child hadn’t said a word since they’d fled the house and Eve hadn’t asked her any questions. But Eve had stayed by Caitlin’s side, refusing treatment for herself, until she was certain that the child was in good hands.

Caitlin was safe now, but Eve couldn’t get the image of the little girl wedged between those floor joists out of her mind. She’d rescued Caitlin, but Eve was frustrated that there was nothing she could do to spare the child from reliving the horrors that she’d seen and experienced. At least Caitlin would know that Lionel Coyle would never be able to hurt her or anyone else again.

“The cut on your head isn’t new,” Lisa said. “The airbag blowing up in your face opened up the old wound. You’re lucky your injuries aren’t a lot worse.”

“I was just doing my job.”

“The hell you were. Suicide isn’t part of your job description. It’s a miracle you’re both alive. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thankful for what you did, probably everybody in the country is going to be when they hear about it. But I could have lost you today because you acted without thinking.”

Eve saw tears in her sister’s eyes. “I was thinking of Caitlin.”

“I’d appreciate it if you’d think of yourself now and then.”

“In a way, I was. I couldn’t live with myself if I was right about her being alive and she’d burned to death in that house.”

Lisa was finished with the cast and peeled off her rubber gloves. “I’d get you a sling for your arm, but I know you won’t use it or the Vicodin the doctor prescribed for pain. So my prescription is that you go home, eat a half gallon of Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey, and binge on the Terminator movies.”

“I can do that.”

Eve’s phone vibrated beside her on the gurney. She picked it up with her left hand and saw a text from Duncan informing her that he was outside and on his way in.