He made a sound that was almost a choking noise and dropped to his knees.
“Oh my God.”
His hands gripped the bars. “Lily. Baby. Lily.”
Behind him Carol was already talking. “Evan, listen to me, this isn’t—”
“Where’s the key?” he said without looking at her.
Carol stopped.
Evan turned then.
Lily would remember that turn for the rest of her life—not because he shouted, though he did in a second, but because his whole body changed. Something in him that had been passive for months, maybe years, vanished.
“Where. Is. The key.”
Carol drew herself up. “She was having one of her episodes. She locked herself in and then panicked, and I was trying to calm her down before—”
The lie did not even finish.
Evan was already on his feet.
“I said the key!”
Carol stepped back. “Don’t you raise your voice at me.”
Evan looked at her the way a stranger might look at fire.
Then he grabbed the heavy wrench from the utility shelf, dropped back to the crate, and brought it down on the padlock.
Once. Twice.
The lock snapped on the third blow.
He tore the door open so hard it slammed against the dryer. Lily tried to crawl toward him, but when her cramped legs failed she only lurched half forward before Evan pulled her into his arms.
She had never felt him shake before.
