“I can look after her,” Ilse said, softly. “At my place. We’re near enough to a hospital in case of an emergency. My place is safe.”

The moment she said it, Samantha’s eyes widened even further. For a moment, she seemed caught on the edge of panic and relief. She looked at Ilse, staring as if assessing her one last time. Ilse could still feel the way Sam had nestled against her shoulder in the basement. A gesture of trust. The trust of someone with no other options but fear and danger.

Sometimes, all it took was a single friendly shoulder.

“Yes,” Ilse said, more insistently. She nodded in an encouraging way to her patient. “You’ll be safe there. I’ll keep an eye on you. Just for the night, until we can find somewhere else you’ll be safe.”

At the word safe, Samantha gave a soft little shiver of delight. She closed her eyes, as if drifting off for a moment. For the first time since leaving the shack, her fingers weren’t trembling so badly.

The paramedics were shaking their heads, frowning.

Sawyer glanced from one to the other. “Does she have to go to a hospital?”

One paramedic sighed, glancing at the IV bag. He looked to her freshly bandaged neck and then shrugged. “I’d highly suggest it.”

Samantha’s eyes fluttered, and she whimpered, “No,” but not so insistently this time. A quiet, tired little protest. A desperate, hopeful plea that someone, anyone, might finally listen.

Ilse couldn’t let her client down a second time. She looked Sawyer dead in the eyes. “I’ll look after her. Keep an eye on her all night if I have to. We need to find somewhere she’ll be safe.” Ilse looked to the paramedics. “Do you really think it’ll be better for her to stay awake all night in terror, trembling and panicked? I can’t imagine that’s better.”

Again, the paramedics frowned, sighing. But one at a time, they finally seemed to relent with soft little nods.

The one who’d attached the IV shook his head, muttering, “I suppose I’ll call the hospital. I’ll need clearance…”

“You have my clearance,” Sawyer interrupted. “She’ll be safe with the doc. Do what you have to. How much time?”

“Maybe twenty minutes,” said the paramedic. He gestured at the IV bag. “Should be enough. I really have to insist, though, Ms. Wright. The hospital is very safe. We have—”

“No,” Samantha said, releasing the single word with a gusting breath as if it had taken every last ounce of strength. Then, silently, she shook her head, her blonde, dirty hair shifting against the pillow.

“You heard her,” Ilse said, looking hard at Sawyer. “I will keep an eye on her.” This time. “I promise.”

Agent Sawyer glanced over at the old shack, his eyes trailing along the dirt road before returning to Samantha. “All right. Make sure she’s safe. And keep that dumb phone of yours near at hand.” With that, he turned toward the police officers who were reemerging from the shack, accompanied by a coroner’s assistant.