“What?”
Her disbelief lasted only a moment because Maisie sagged heavily against her shoulder.
Tessa immediately stopped arguing.
She carried her daughter to the sofa and lowered herself beside her, keeping Maisie’s head supported while pulling out her phone. Evan crouched in front of them, saying his daughter’s name and asking whether she could hear him, but Tessa pushed his hand away when he tried to move the blood-soaked hair around the injury.
“Don’t touch it.”
“We can get her to the hospital faster ourselves.”
“No.”
“Tessa, it’s twenty minutes—”
“I said no. I’m calling 911.”
There was enough authority in her voice to end the argument. Tessa gave the dispatcher the address, described the head injury as clearly as she could, and answered questions about Maisie’s breathing, level of consciousness, and the broken glass around the room. She moved the child only when instructed and kept speaking to her throughout the call, forcing her own voice into steadiness whenever Maisie’s eyelids fluttered.
Evan stood and looked at his mother again.
“What did you hit her with?”
Lenora did not respond.
“Mom.”
She walked to one of the armchairs and sat down.