My cheek burned. My sinus cavities had filled with blood. I needed to hold it together. Mostly, I wanted to close my eyes and let the world slip away. The light hurt my eyes. The memories seared my brain.

“Tell me your name,” the EMT instructed, forcing me back to attention.

I opened my mouth. No words came out.

She offered me a sip of water, helped clean my cracked lips.

“Tessa Leoni,” I finally managed.

“What is today’s date, Tessa?”

For a second, I couldn’t answer. No numbers appeared in my head and I started to panic. All I could picture was Sophie’s empty bed.

“March thirteen,” I finally whispered.

“Two plus two?”

Another pause. “Four.”

Marla grunted, adjusting the line carrying clear fluids to the back of my hand. “Nice shiner,” she remarked.

I didn’t answer.

“Almost as pretty as the bruise covering half your ass. Husband like steel-toed boots?”

I didn’t answer, just pictured my daughter’s smiling face.

The ambulance slowed, maybe ready to turn into the emergency room. I could only hope.

Marla studied me a second longer. “I don’t get it,” she said abruptly. “You’re a cop. You’ve received special training, you’ve handled these kinds of calls yourself. Surely you of all people oughtta know …” She seemed to catch herself. “Well, guess that’s the way these things go, right? Domestic violence happens across all social groups. Even those who should know better.”

The ambulance came to a stop. Thirty seconds later, the back doors flew open and I rolled into daylight.

I didn’t look at Marla anymore. I kept my eyes on the gray March sky rushing past overhead.

Inside the hospital, there was a lot of activity at once. An emergency room nurse charged forward to meet us, ushering us into an exam room. There was paperwork to be filled out, including the omnipresent HEPA form advising me of my right to privacy. As the nurse assured me, my doctor would not discuss my case with anyone, not even other members of law enforcement, as that would violate doctor-patient confidentiality. What she did not say, but I already knew, was that my medical charts were considered neutral and could be subpoenaed by the DA. Meaning any statements I made to the doctor, which were recorded in those charts …

Always a loophole somewhere. Just ask a cop.

Paperwork completed, the nurse turned to the next matter at hand.