The doctor finally found the bullet, then began to work a small set of tongs into the hole. The woman passed out again somewhere in the middle of this process, her arms going mercifully slack against Lily’s hands. The temperature in the nursery felt as though it had climbed sharply, though the wall panel only read 74 degrees. Lily was dizzy, as though she’d lost all the blood in her head. Jonathan, no surprise, was steady as ever, his face immobile as he watched the doctor work. He’d probably killed men in Saudi Arabia with the same stone face.