“Wait!” I yelled. “Damn it! Tim’s not out there! He’s in the bathroom! Wait!”

By the time I got outside with my pistol, I saw Annie and Mia racing across the street toward Caitlin’s house. In the front yard, Keisha Harvin was stumbling around like Patty Duke playing Helen Keller. At first I thought it was some kind of prank, so clumsy and strange did Keisha look, but with the next scream I recognized genuine pain and horror.

Scanning the street for threats, I leaped down the steps and sprinted across the pavement, praying Tim wasn’t far behind. Mia was trying to question Keisha, but the reporter only sobbed and babbled unintelligibly. I knew only one thing: Keisha was in terrible pain, and her face and eyes seemed to be the source of it.

“This is Penn, Keisha! What happened?”

She screeched for a couple of seconds, then said, “She threw Coke in my face!”

“Who threw a Coke in your face?”

“White lady!”

Looking closer, I saw that Keisha’s blouse was wet, as was the skin of her upper chest. As I noted this, my gaze locked onto the skin itself, which did not look right at all. Something corrosive had gotten at it—

“Oh, God,” I breathed. “Mia! Did you touch her?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Go rinse your hands with the hose.”

“Make it stop!” Keisha screams. “It’s burning!”

“Annie, did you touch her?”

“No! Daddy, what’s the matter with her?”

“Run home and call 911! Then get me the rubber gloves out of the washroom.”

Annie stared transfixed at Keisha’s pouring eyes.

“Annie, right now! We need an ambulance and police!”

“I’m going!” she cried, sprinting back toward the house.

“I can’t see!” Keisha wailed. “All I can see is light. What did she do to me?”

“Breathe, Keisha,” I said in a level voice, fighting the urge to take hold of her and comfort her. “Stop talking, just breathe. I want you to sit down where you are. I’m going to get the garden hose. Do you hear me?”

Her fingers found her reddening cheeks. “Oh no—my face . . .”

“Sit down, right here. Or better yet, lie on your back.”

“On the ground?”

“Yes. Mia, bring the hose!”

A sprinter in high school, Mia covered the distance to me in three seconds and clapped the hose into my hand. Keisha was still sobbing, but I figured the tears were good for her eyes.

“Keisha, I’m going to rinse your face, your eyes, everything. I need you to help me by staying calm. There’s going to be water in your face—a lot of it—but just keep breathing through your mouth. We’re going to rinse your skin until the ambulance gets here. Even under your eyelids.”

“Hurry, hurry—”