“No!”
My panicked squeal gains me the attention of the man I attempted to speak to earlier. “Hey, kid, you can’t be in here.”
When he tries to guide me away from the wreckage, I shrug out of his hold. “That’s my girlfriend’s car. That’s her family wagon. I need to know if she’s okay.”
I race for the crumbled vehicle, desperate for any signs of life. Strands of blood-smeared blonde hair stuck in a circular crack in the windscreen has me heaving, but I continue my mission, determined to unearth answers to the questions no one will give me.
Sick, twisted gloom overwhelms me when I discover Melody’s cell phone on the floor of the wagon. It’s coated with shards of glass and twisted metal, but there’s no doubt it is her phone. Not only does it have our photo displayed on the cracked screen, it’s a cell phone especially designed for deaf people. The flashing light that alerts her to messages is almost as big as my thumb.
“This is my girlfriend’s phone. Does that mean she was in the wreckage?” I hold out Melody’s phone to face the men circling me with grim, sorrow-filled expressions on their faces. “Was she taken to the hospital?” When they continue staring at me, not speaking a word, I shout, “Which hospital was she taken to? Where did you take her!” I push Phoenix off me when he curls his arm around my shoulders, then step closer to the men staring at me with pity. “I need to know. Please,” I beg without shame, uncaring that the tears streaming down my face make me look weak. “Please tell me where she went. Please.”
My eyes shoot to my left when an older plain-clothes officer with arms as wide as my head says, “They took them to Mercer.”
“Mercer?” I double-check, not wanting the thud of my pulse in my ears to mishear what he said. “On Macquarie and James?”
When the officer nods, Phoenix garbles, “That’s Joey’s hospital…” His face whitens as reality dawns. “Does that mean… is he…”
With his mouth not working, I take up its slack. “Joey isn’t getting any random heart. He’s getting a Gregg heart.”
WITH MY HEAD a blurred mess of confusion, I don’t recall any of our trip to the hospital, or the words my mom shouts when I rocket out of her car the instant she pulls into the parking lot. I hot-foot through the double automatic doors, race past the nurse on the emergency desk asking if I’m okay, and push through the flappy doors like I don’t have a security guard on my tail. I know the layout of this hospital as well as I know every perfect imperfection on Melody’s face, so I know the exact route to take to find out whose heart Joey is getting, and when I do find out, it shreds my heart to pieces.
The man being kept alive so his organs can be harvested is like a father to me. He taught me how to be brave, and love, and to fix car motors, but more than any of that, he taught me that his daughter is the most precious gift.
A fat, salty blob rolls down my cheek when my eyes shift to the right. There’s another body under a white sheet in theater number two. It’s small and petite, clear signs it belongs to a female.
“Let him go,” Dr. Giorgio advises the security guard when I make my way into the operating room next to the one Mr. Gregg is in. She’s one of the rare few who knows about my close kinship with the Greggs because I was visiting Melody when she tried to convince the Greggs to have cochlear implants inserted into Melody’s inner ears.
Mr. Gregg refused her suggestion, and for the first time ever, he did it without signing. I told Melody what had happened the following morning. She was mad her dad wouldn’t give Dr. Giorgio the time of day, but she also understood why he rejected her offer. The Greggs never saw Melody’s deafness as a disability. If anything, it makes her more unique. I agreed with them, so that was the last time a hearing implant was ever suggested.
Dr. Giorgio follows my solemn trek into the dead, silent space. Her hand raises to squeeze my shoulder when a sob breaks through the shudders wreaking havoc with my body. I don’t know how I’m moving. I must be on auto-pilot mode.
A sigh expels from my mouth when I pull back the white sheet covering the patient’s face. I’m ashamed to admit it’s a sigh of relief. It isn’t Melody on the cold steel table with her chest as still as a statue. It is her mom, Wren.
“Was anyone else brought in?” When Dr. Giorgio glances at me in confusion, I stutter out, “Melody. Was she brought in with them? She was in the car. I found her phone.”
“No.” She peers down at a clipboard in her hand to ensure she isn’t mistaken before shaking her head. “First responders only advised us of two occupants in the car.” Her brows furrow as her eyes speed-read the report in front of her. “The accident was called in by a TTY. The 911 operator cited in her report that the caller was female.” Her heavy exhalation fans her cheeks with air. “She said her parents were in an accident.” Her watering eyes lift to mine. “Oh God, she must have been there. Melody must have been in the car with them.”
As she advises the security officer to send a patrol vehicle to the Greggs’ family ranch, I race back out of the operating theater even faster than I stormed into them. I crash into my dad halfway down, knocking his cell phone and keys out of his hand.
“I need to borrow those.” I snatch up the articles without waiting for permission before sprinting for the parking lot.
“Brandon!” Ignoring the wrath in my father’s tone, I continue running. “Brandon, get back here!”
Like all pompous, arrogant men, my father parked in the disabled bay at the front of the hospital, halving my trek. I throw open the driver’s side door of his sleek new Audi before sliding into the leather-trimmed seats. The engine cranking over almost drowns out my father’s warning that he’ll kill me if I get so much as a scratch on his car, but for good measure, I floor the gas to get my point across that I’m already dead on the inside.
With the main route to the Greggs’ family ranch most likely closed so they can investigate the crash that killed two prominent members of our town, I take the back roads. My speed is excessive, ensuring my father’s wish for me not to scratch his car isn’t upheld. I take the corners too sharply, which causes bushy scrubs to drag along the pristine black paint, and we’re not going to mention my miscalculation when I slide into the Greggs’ dusty driveway. The rear end skids out, only righting itself when I wipe out the front gate.
I come to a stop next to a decked-out patrol car with mangled portions of the gate stuck under the back grill. Dispatch must have sent one of the officers from the crash scene to search for Melody, otherwise, how did he beat me here? I was driving speed limits beyond comprehension.
“Did you find her?” I ask the officer who broke protocol to tell me which hospital they had taken the Greggs.
He shakes his head, sending a dusting of dark hairs into his eyes. “No. I’ve searched the entire house. She’s not in there.”
“She has to be. She was taught to go home when she’s in danger.” I sidestep him before climbing the front porch stairs. I stomp on the ground three times, replicating the syllables of Melody’s name. It’s a way of shouting for her since she can’t hear me.
After checking the coat closet, the walk-in pantry, and the storage nook under the stairwell, I take the stairs two at a time. I move toward the hidden closet in the far back corner of Mr. and Mrs. Gregg’s bedroom before heading to Melody’s room.
“Melo—” My three-stomp shout stops after two when the faintest sob trickles into my ears. It came from under Melody’s bed, her once-favorite spot to hide when we did nighttime drills inside the house.
