“Physically, she’s doing well,” the nurse said. “We’re monitoring her temperature and hydration. But because of her age and how she was found— we had to report it. That’s standard.”
Standard. That word again. Like this could ever be standard. Like a six-year-old alone in a sealed metal box during a heatwave could be routine.
Officer Miller appeared in the doorway a few minutes later. He didn’t look rushed or angry. He looked neutral, which somehow felt worse— as if he’d seen this so many times that surprise had burned out.
“Ms. Walker,” he said, “when you have a moment, I need to ask you a few questions. We can step into the hall.”
Lucy stiffened. Her whole body tightened against mine.
“It’s okay,” I told her softly. “I’ll be right outside. Dad’s here too— Chris is here, okay? You’re not alone.”
Chris had arrived while I was with the nurse, his face pale and furious, his eyes going straight to Lucy like he needed to check she was real. He stood now by the window, jaw clenched, hands fisted at his sides.
Lucy nodded, but her grip tightened before she let go.
In the hallway, Officer Miller opened a notepad.