Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 60978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered, sinking into the chair beside her. I wanted to comfort her but had no idea how. Without thinking, I put my arm around her and she turned into me immediately, snagging my shirt in her fist as she cried.
Lana ended her call and immediately redialed Judge Whitmore. “Your Honor, the officer who transported Lily Jans said they’ve had to take her to the ER. She’s suffered a dislocated shoulder when they delivered her to the foster home.” There was a pause. “Yes, ma’am. During the transfer. Ms. Winter grabbed the child by the upper arm as Lily struggled to get away. I’ll know more once we get to the hospital, but I need to make sure Eliza is not prevented from contact with her daughter.” Another pause. Lana’s expression shifted from determination to grim satisfaction. “Thank you, Judge. We’ll meet you there.” She ended the call and turned to us. “Judge Whitmore is granting emergency custody back to Eliza pending the results of medical testing. She’s calling the hospital now to make sure they understand the situation and will meet us there in person. We need to go. Now.”
Eliza stumbled to her feet, hope and fear warring on her face. “We can go to her? They’ll let us be with her?” It didn’t miss my notice she used “we” rather than “me.” The possessive alpha in me seized on to the “we” and included myself instead of whoever Eliza had in mind when she spoke.
“Yes, honey. The judge agrees this situation demands immediate attention.” Lana placed a gentle hand on Eliza’s shoulder. “Cash, can you take her in your car? I need to stop by my office to get the paperwork the judge is preparing.”
“I came on my bike,” I said.
Lana nodded briskly. “Right. Then follow us. I’ll drop Eliza at the ER entrance and you can park my car.”
We moved quickly through the station, the sergeant watching us with unconcealed curiosity. As we stepped into the night air, Eliza took a deep, shuddering breath. I helped her into Lana’s car before heading to my bike. Whatever happened next, I wouldn’t let this small, broken family face it alone.
I followed Lana’s car into the hospital parking lot, my headlight cutting through the shadows as we pulled up to the emergency entrance. Lana stopped at the curb, and she and Eliza scrambled out of the car.
As I passed them, Lana tossed me the keys, calling, “Park, then hurry back!” I snagged them on my way by before I pulled my bike into a spot reserved for physicians, not giving a damn if they ticketed or towed it. Then I parked Lana’s car in the physician slot next to my bike and headed back.
I jogged toward the entrance where Eliza and Lana had disappeared inside. The sliding glass panels whispered open, releasing a blast of air-conditioned wind.
The emergency department buzzed with the usual controlled chaos. Monitors beeped rhythmically. Nurses moved with practiced efficiency between curtained bays. A security guard eyed me with suspicion but made no move to approach when he saw me follow Lana.
“I need to find my daughter,” Eliza said to the triage nurse, her voice tight with desperation. “Lily Jans. She was just brought in by ambulance. She’s six years old with a dislocated shoulder.”
The nurse consulted her computer screen. “Come with me. The doctor’s with her now.”
We followed the nurse down the hall. Though we couldn’t see her yet, we could hear Lily’s terrified, pain-filled screams mixed with the calm voices of medical staff trying to quiet her.
The sliding glass door to the room hadn’t been shut but the curtain blocked the view inside. When we pushed the curtain aside, the scene hit me like a punch to the gut. Lily thrashed on the stretcher, her tiny body writhing in obvious pain. Her right arm hung at an unnatural angle, the shoulder visibly displaced. Two nurses attempted to calm her and keep her from harming herself while a third prepared an IV tray.
“She’s going to hurt herself worse,” one nurse said, frustration and concern evident in her voice. “We can’t get the IV started if she keeps moving like this and I’m afraid to hold her any tighter.”
“Get the doc to change the Ativan order to IM,” one of the nurses said, calmly. “It’ll take longer to take effect, but we can start an IV once she’s calmer.”
When Eliza opened her mouth to call out to her daughter, Lana’s hand shot out, gripping Eliza’s arm. “Wait,” she whispered urgently. “If you grab her attention now while she’s thrashing, it could make the injury worse. She’s going to reach for you if she sees you. I know it’s hard, but let them do what they need to. This is the best choice. You can go to her once the immediate crisis is over.”