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“Go ahead.”

“I took Sophie into my bathroom. I locked the bedroom door behind us, but I knew it wouldn't hold them.”

“What floor?”

“Second.”

“How'd you get out?”

“The bathroom window opens onto the garage roof.”

I glance at her arm.

“That's where you cut yourself.”

“Yes.”

“You climbed onto the roof carrying Sophie?”

“No. I went first. Then she climbed out and I helped her down.”

I picture it.

Claire barefoot or close to it.

Dark house.

Men downstairs.

A terrified little girl climbing through a window.

My stomach turns.

“How'd you get off the garage?”

“Trellis.”

Havoc whistles softly.

Claire glares at him.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“It wasn't exactly graceful.”

“Didn't need to be,” he says. “You got your kid out.”

Her expression changes.

“Yeah.”

“You have a vehicle?”

I ask it even though I know she does.

“Yes.”