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The doors to the emergency room are locked. With quick steps, I walk to the reception desk I’ve been to three times in the same number of minutes, slamming my palms on the counter.
“I need to see my son!”
The nurse appears not pleased to see me standing here again.
“We are at full capacity tonight, so you’re gonna have to bear with me while I try to locate your son. It’s possible he has been taken in for testing,” a nurse tries to explain as calmly as possible from her desk in the emergency room.
“You don’t lose a five-year-old in a hospital!”
The woman flinches at my curt response.
I grip the edge of the desk and lean over it. “Open that computer again. Type in Hunter Landish. Brown hair, brown eyes, A positive blood type. He was riding an ATV because his father, who is the biggest imbecile on the planet, decided to be Parent of the Year and put a five-year-old on a death trap. He could have bought the kid a cotton candy machine or a trampoline, but, no, he went for the one thing I’d said no to because instead of anyone making him the bad guy for destroying his family, he has to go over the top and do extravagant things in order to own his kids’ affection. My son is back there on a gurney somewhere. Find where he is and tell me in three seconds, or I’m marching myself through those doors, and you’re gonna have to carry me out if you don’t like it!”
Will places a hand on my shoulder, gently pulling me back. His demeanor is far calmer than my erratic one. “Let me see what I can do.”
I put my foot down hard. “I’m not leaving this spot right here.”
He nods, running a hand down my arm and turning to the nurse. He takes his wallet out of his back pocket and shows his badge. “Bronson. Valor County Police. I understand the protocol, and you are doing a great job. Is there any way I can walk back there and see if I can get eyes on the boy?”
She looks at me out of the side of her eye and then back to Will. My foot is making a rapping sound on the linoleum floor. Will looks down at my foot and raises his brows. I stop, earning me a smirk from him as he looks back at the nurse. He’s putting on a mixture of serious cop and sympathetic man.
There’s a gentle nod from the nurse. “We’re short-staffed and out of beds. It’s all hands-on deck back there. It says here he was checked in with his father, so he’s not alone. If you just give me a few minutes, I can find out where he is. As I said, he’s probably been brought in for testing.”
While she lifts the phone, I cross my arms and bite my nail. “I can’t just stand here, Will. I need to see Hunter.”
There’s a scurry of people who walk into the emergency room. A group of about sixteen people come barreling in, looking in the same shape as I am—worried, exhausted, needing answers. They push their way to the desk, forcing Will to close his arms around me and pull me to the side.
The room is packed. Every seat is occupied. Many have their cell phones plugged into the wall, clearly planning on being here for a while. I look around and see people stretched out across chairs, visibly in pain, and a few sleeping on the floor, as if they don’t need to check in, like they just need a place to spend the night.
“This is common for a Saturday night,” Will says, walking me toward a wall near the vending machines.
The television is playing prime-time cable news. I turn my head away from it and press my forehead against the buttons on Will’s black shirt.
“Come,” he says, lowering his hand to my back and moving me toward the exit doors.
I step away from him, refusing to leave the building, but he places his other hand in mine and escorts me outside of the building. The cold rush of air hits me in the face. I think I’d be freezing if my adrenaline wasn’t pumping quarts of hot blood through my anxious veins.
Will hooks a quick left, walking along the sidewalk until we’re at the ambulance bay. Three ambulances are parked outside, all with their engines running.
A doctor is standing by the door, talking to an EMT. A patient on a gurney is nearby. Will holds up his badge even though no one seems to be paying attention, and we walk inside. He escorts me through a waiting area of sorts and down the hallway. There are beds along the walls, presumably people who aren’t able to get into a room. Moans from a man have me looking over in one direction until a woman’s scream has me swiveling in the opposite.
“Hunter won’t be here. Pediatrics is in the back,” Will explains as we make a left.
“I haven’t been here in years. Not since my mom was admitted after her final collapse. She fell all the time in the end. We’d help her up, and most times, she’d make a joke about it. That last time, she couldn’t get up, even with our help. That’s when we knew she was nearing the end. She stayed for three days. I hate this place.”
His hand squeezes mine tighter.
There’s a set of double doors at the end of the hallway. One side opens, and Tyler appears with his head down, looking at his phone and cursing.
I call out his name. He looks up and stops, his shoulders dropping as he takes a step back in slow motion, appearing relieved to see me.
“I’ve been trying to call you, but there’s no fucking reception in this place.” His voice is laced with anger and annoyance. Then, he looks down at our joined hands. “Who are you?”
Will doesn’t get a chance to answer because my fist rises and hits Tyler in the chest.
“You jerk! What were you thinking, letting our son ride a goddamn ATV in the dark?!”
Tyler holds his arms up but doesn’t fight me off as I slam my fists into him, as if he were the punching bag at the gym. My hair is falling wildly in front of my face as I pound and pummel him in the chest and forearms. Will pulls me off Tyler and holds me back just as a nurse comes running toward us.
