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“That doesn’t put you inside.”

“Sean,” Hayley says softly.

He looks at her.

“She needs to do this.”

His jaw tightens.

Then he turns to me.

“You call my name, and I’m through that door.”

“I know.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

I enter alone.

Marisol lies against white pillows.

A bandage circles her head.

Another covers her shoulder.

Her face is pale, but I recognize her.

The girl in the photograph.

The girl outside the warehouse.

Her brown eyes open.

For a moment, she only stares at me.

Then tears slide toward her face.

“You got away,” she whispers.

“So did you.”

“I heard you fighting them.”

“I didn’t know you were there.”

“I know.”

I move closer to the bed.

“Did Sally tell you about me?”

“Yes.”

“Where is she?”

Marisol closes her eyes.