“Are they out of surgery?” Carson asked, as a collective sigh of relief spread through the group.
The exhausted physician nodded.
“Tell us,” Amanda’s father said.
“Well, the way it looks, the girls were out in the back yard, probably sunning themselves, maybe thirty feet or so away from impact -- which is very likely what saved their lives,” Purcell began. “We think Amanda was lying on her stomach, because she had a fair amount of shrapnel on the back side of her, but most of it was shallow. Her left leg was fractured, though, so she’ll have a cast on for a while. She did have one small glass fragment lodge in the back of her skull, but the surgeon doesn’t think it did any serious damage. She probably suffered a mild concussion, which means she’ll have a pretty good headache for a few days, but I think she should be just fine.”
“Oh, thank God,” her mother murmured.
“We think that, intentionally or not, Lily may have saved Amanda from far worse injury,” Purcell said.
“How do you mean?” Carson asked.
“Well, from the extent and location of her injuries, we believe that Lily was closest to the explosion, and that she was either sitting upright, or partially upright, but enough to shield Amanda to some extent, and take the brunt of the blast.”
“How can you tell where they were?” Janet wondered.
“Can’t tell for sure,” Purcell replied. “And we won’t know until they can tell us. But if they’d been inside the cottage, or even a few feet closer than they were, we would be having a very different conversation right now.”
“Tell us,” Carson said.
“Okay, without the varnish,” Purcell continued. “Lily sustained what we think is a mild to moderate traumatic brain injury, causing swelling that will result in, hopefully, just a temporary level of functional disability. There were shards of glass and a fair amount of shrapnel that penetrated her face, chest, abdomen and thighs. She also suffered several fractured ribs that lacerated her liver and collapsed her right lung, and her right arm was almost completely severed. She’s lost a good deal of blood. The fact that the paramedics reached the scene as quickly as they did quite likely saved her life. The surgeon was able to remove the glass shards and some of the shrapnel. The rest of it will have to wait until she’s stabilized. She’s currently on a ventilator, she’s got chest tubes to drain the blood and air, and her arm is in a cast.”
Carson couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His daughter was lying in a hospital, severely injured, because some idiot didn’t want her to do her job?
“Do you think she knew what was coming?” Diana asked.
“Hard to say,” Purcell replied. “And we may never know.”
“Can we see her?” Janet asked.
“Can we see Amanda?” the Jansens asked.
“Not yet,” Purcell told them. “They’re both in recovery. You should be able to see Amanda in a couple of hours. As for Lily, she’ll be on the ventilator for twenty-four to forty-eight hours and heavily sedated.”
“Heavily sedated?” Carson echoed.
“That’s to keep her out of it until we can take her off the ventilator.”
The group looked from one to the other. It was going to be a long night.
In fact, it was after one o’clock before Amanda Jansen was awake and talking. Her parents hovered by her side, while Detective Coello stood at the foot of the bed, pen and pad in hand.
“I wish I could tell you something,” Amanda said. “But I don’t have any idea what happened. One minute, Lily and I were in the back yard, taking in the sun, and the next, I think I heard some kind of big blast, and that’s all I remember.”
Amanda had suffered multiple contusions and lacerations across her back, buttocks, and legs from shrapnel, and several shards of glass had punctured her head and shoulders. But thankfully, they were small and shallow, and the doctors had been able to remove them without incident. Her concussion was determined to be mild, meaning she would indeed have a headache for a few days, but there would be no lasting damage.
“So, you didn’t see anything before the explosion, someone making a delivery, or maybe just hanging around the cottage?” Coello persisted.
“No,” Amanda said. “It was just us. It’s pretty remote up there. If there’d been anyone else around, I think I’d have known it. To be honest, I thought the explosion was from some fireworks gone awry.”
“The doctor says we should be able to take you home tomorrow,” her mother said. “And you’ll be going home with us, until you’re fully healed.”
“What about Lily?” Amanda asked.
“I’m afraid she’s going to be staying here for a while,” her father replied.
. . .
When she opened her eyes, all Lily could see was white -- white ceiling, white walls, white curtains. She felt groggy and everything was fuzzy. She had no idea where she was, or what time it was, or even what day it was. She tried to turn her head, but it felt unbearably heavy and it hurt. She tried to raise her arm, but she couldn’t. In fact, she realized, she was hardly able to move at all. A wave of panic washed over her as she tried to open her mouth, only to find she couldn’t do that very well, either.
Barely a whimper escaped her lips, but it was enough to catch the attention of the ICU nurse hovering nearby.
“Don’t try to talk,” the nurse said, moving quickly to Lily’s side. “You’re in the hospital. You were involved in a pretty bad accident. But you were lucky, and you’re going to be just fine.”
Most of what Lily could see of the woman was a blur, and she had no idea what she was doing in a hospital. What hospital? Where? What accident? What was the woman talking about? And why couldn’t she move her arms?
“Move?” she managed to murmur, forcing the word out of
