“Oh, whoa. Okay.” Carmen placed a hand on the small of Mona’s back, quickly stepping into a protector role as Mona’s knees buckled. Mona had never appeared this vulnerable to Carmen—they’d always kept a pleasant but healthy distance, and even her reservations about Dr. Conlin had been communicated in code words and whispers—but Mona was relieved that Carmen was rising to the occasion. Her grip on Mona’s arm was strong, firm. Comforting. Her knees returned to normal, but her stomach was still queasy.
“She can go, right? You don’t need us anymore?” Carmen asked the detective.
Though his mouth pursed, he nodded. “We’ll be here a while sorting through this. We have fingerprint techs coming in. There’s a lot to gather. Maybe we’ll get the right one this time, and we can finally run the result
