“With someone for sure, but not just to split the driving. I like being around people, having someone to talk to.”
“No. I hadn’t noticed.”
“Ha, ha, funny girl. I don’t exactly see you kicking me out.”
Like always, I’m braver in the dark. I loop my arm around his and squeeze. “Nope.”
He kisses the top of my head, and we both drift to sleep.
Chapter 26
Jessie
The bruise on his arm was the first thing I noticed.
It could’ve been from anything—he’s seven—but his hesitation to answer my questions, his mother’s obvious discomfort, and his father’s too-perfect posture all scream one thing: This kid didn’t fall out of a tree. I can feel it in my gut, and my gut is rarely wrong.
“Okay, Riley, you wait here while we get a cast ready,” I tell the subdued, brown-haired boy before turning to his parents. “It might be a little while. We’re pretty busy right now, but we’ll try to get him in a cast as soon as possible.”
“We understand,” his father, Mr. Lewis, answers. He’s been pleasant, but his body language betrays him. He wants the hell out of here as soon as possible. I pull back the curtain and slip out of the makeshift room.
“The boy in bed two is showing signs of abuse,” I tell Rachel when I reach the nurses’ station. She’s several decades older than me, with years of experience, and I need her helpnavigating this. I know the hospital’s procedure, but I’ve never handled a child abuse case. Women, sure, but not a child. My own childhood memories try to come flooding back, but I push them from my mind. This isn’t the time or place.
“What did you notice?” Rachel asks, taking his chart to review it. I know what she’ll find: a broken arm, healed breaks in his elbow and wrist noted by the x-ray tech, bruising on his arm, and tender ribs. All injuries consistent with abuse.
“Dad is trying to hide it, but he’s nervous. The bruising is on the part of his arm that isn’t broken, and tender ribs are on the opposite side of his body.”
She looks up and raises a single brow. “Let me guess: Dad says he hit every branch on the way down?”
I flatten my lips. She isn’t far off.
We call over Dr. Marshall and discuss our other procedures before he nods. “I agree, this is concerning. Keep an eye on them, and I’ll call CPS to see if someone can come down and talk to them.”
We nod in unison.
“Thank you both,” I tell them.
Rachel squeezes my elbow, comforting me before following Dr. Marshall into the administration office.
Only fifteen minutes pass before the dad flags me down. “How much longer?”
“I’m not sure. The doctor is still with another patient,” I tell him the lie I was instructed to give, buying us time to contact CPS.
“Okay. We have somewhere to be. If he could do Riley next, that would be great.”
“Of course, I’ll tell him.”The fuck I will.This kid isn’t leaving here until I’m sure he’s safe.
We’re still waiting on a call back when I’m flagged down again and forced to get Dr. Marshall. That’s how we both end up in the makeshift, curtained room with one pissed-off father.
“I don’t appreciate these questions!” Mr. Lewis shouts at us.
“Sir, I’m only trying to understand the nature of Riley’s injuries,” Dr. Marshall calmly replies.
Riley doesn’t look up from where he fiddles with the bed sheet.
“My son is clumsy. He likes to play outside and often trips or falls.”
“And that is not uncommon. My concern is the old injuries and the presentation of the new ones on both sides of his body. Riley, can you tell me what happened?”
