“Bumps, bruises, and scrapes.” That was the pronouncement of the paramedic who had just finished inspecting me.

He’d told Mila the same thing.

We sat in one of the offices tucked behind the check-in counter in the lodge’s main building.

Millie sat on Mila’s other side, clutching her granddaughter’s hand.

At the paramedic’s words, Mila slumped against me, her head lolling as if she no longer had the strength to support it.

While the paramedic stood up and started packing up the supplies he’d pulled out of his bag, I curled my free arm around Mila and buried my face against her neck.

She was here.

She was alive.

Bumped, bruised, and scraped, but alive.

She shuddered against me, and I reached up, tucked the blanket more completely around her before adding mine to it. I felt chilled to the bone myself, but it had nothing to do with my body temperature or the wet clothes, so I didn’t expect a blanket would help.

Mila started to sob quietly.

Over her head, I met Millie’s eyes for a brief moment before closing mine.

Mila squirmed closer.

I eased her into my lap, once more tucking the blankets snug around her. She twisted free of them though and tugged her hand from her grandmother’s, wrapping both of her arms around my neck.

We sat like that for what felt like a very long time, and I told myself over and over again that she was okay.

She was here.

She was alive.

She was okay.

Mila shuddered harder, and I worried she might be going into shock.

I slid a hand under her cheek and eased her head up until our eyes could meet. Her pupils were dilated, but just a little and when she saw me looking at her, she reached up, touching my cheek. “I was so scared,” she said, her voice breaking.

“Me too.” Scared didn’t quite touch what I felt when I’d seen the guy pulling her into the water.

She shuddered again.

Millie got to her feet. “Child, you’re freezing – both of you. I’m going to get you some coffee.”

“I don’t–”

I pressed my thumb to Mila’s lips. “It will help. I don’t want you going into shock.”

She slumped against me once more, and I hooked my arm around her neck. We clung to each other so tight, nothing but wet clothes and blankets separated us. And that was still too many things between us.

“Mind if I come in?”

I looked up, focusing on the tired-eyed man who’d arrived from the mainland, along with several police officers just as the security team had hauled Mila’s assailant into the lodge.

“Detective Hodge,” I said, surprised I could remember his name.

He nodded and took a seat across from us. His eyes strayed to Mila. “Mila, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

I smoothed a hand down her back, uncertain if she’d even heard the cop.

But she stirred and lifted her head. She blinked and focused in on the man in his rumpled suit.

“Are you up to this?” Millie asked from a few feet away, her hands clutched together at her waist.

“I’m okay,” Mila said, nodding. She offered her grandmother a wobbly smile then looked back at the cop. “What do you need to know?”

Mila tensed as the cop started to talk, but she answered each question in a fairly steady voice.

The cop nodded and jotted down some notes on the pad he held. He lapsed into silence then looked back at Mila, head cocked. “The man who attacked you – he’s given us a name. Do you know a Charles Gamble?”

I tensed, my gaze sliding to Millie.

She gave the cop a bewildered stare. “What does Charles have to do with this?”

The cop barely glanced from Mila’s face. “Do you know Charles Gamble, Miss Golding?” he pressed.

Before I could say that I’d only met my grandmother’s attorney once, there was a knock at the door.

I looked up, narrowing my eyes as a round man with a red face came rushing in. “Millie…Mila…I just heard…” He lapsed into silence at the sight of Mila sitting on my lap, his gaze jumping from me to the detective then back to Mila.

“Charles, this detective is asking about you,” Millie said in a stiff voice.

The cop turned then, rising from the seat he’d taken across from Mila and me.

“Asking about me…?” Charles offered a tight smile. “What can I do for you, detective?”

Blood roared in my ears as the cop calmly said, “Mila was attacked earlier. The man who attacked her said you sent him.”

Charles froze.

“He…I’m sorry, what?” He recovered quickly, but I’d seen the fear in his eyes.

Carefully, I started to ease Mila off my lap. The cop had his hand on his weapon and was looking at Charles with the same mistrust I felt.

“He said he’s an associate of yours and that you sent him after Mila.”

“That’s…” Charles forced a smile. “That’s absurd.”

“He gave us his phone – there are numerous calls to a Charles Gamble on it.”

“I’m a lawyer,” Charles sputtered. “Any number of people have my phone number.”

“You son of a bitch,” Millie said from behind Charles.

He spun around to her.

Millie threw the carafe of hot coffee she’d been brewing into his face. He screamed and jerked up his hands, but not in time to keep Millie from swinging out with the coffee pot.

It hit him square across the cheek, and he stumbled, falling to the side.

He curled up into a tight ball, but a cop from outside the room had rushed in, grabbing Millie’s arm before she could do anything else.

Well, except yell.

“You son of a bitch,” she screamed. “Did you try to hurt my Mila?”

“I had to,” Charles babbled, his hands hovering in front of his face. “You were going to give her the island, and I had to stop you!”

The detective took a slow, deep breath, then stepped forward. “Mr. Gamble, I’m going to advise you against saying anything else until you have an attorney present.”

Charles didn’t even seem to notice, his red, burned face contorted in pain.

“Get the paramedic back in here,” Detective Hodge said, sounding disgusted.

Then he looked at Millie. “I’ll have to ask you to put the coffee pot down, Ms. Thatcher.”

Millie blinked, looking down at the glass carafe she still held.

A second later, it fell down on the carpeted floor, landing with a dull thunk.