“There,” Lily whispered, pointing her small finger toward an overturned wooden crate near a concrete pillar.
Lying on a sheet of damp cardboard beside the crate was a young woman. She wore a thin denim jacket over a faded sweater. Her hair was damp, plastered to her forehead, and her face was deathly pale. Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow and ragged, a raspy whistle catching in her throat with every inhalation.
“Mommy!” Lily squirmed in Damon’s arms, her feet dropping to the gravel as soon as he lowered her. She ran to the cardboard sheet and dropped to her knees, clutching the woman’s cold hand. “Mommy, wake up! I brought a man. He gave me cake!”
The woman didn’t move. Her chest barely rose.
