Chapter 3 - A Price for Silence
Oliver went to the hospital with Ethan.
I went in another ambulance because the paramedic refused to accept “I have tables” as a medical opinion.
My wrist wasn’t broken.
It was badly sprained, which sounded manageable until the doctor asked what I did for work.
“Waitress.”
He looked at the brace.
“Not for a little while.”
That was when I started crying.
Not on the marble. Not when Vanessa called me a liar. Not when the police asked whether I had touched her before she released the baby.
In a curtained emergency room, staring at a wrist brace I couldn’t afford, I finally fell apart.
A nurse handed me tissues without making a speech.
I loved her for that.
About an hour later, Ethan appeared outside my curtain.
“Can I come in?”
“Is he okay?”
“They’re keeping him for observation. The doctor says he looks good.”
I let out a breath that seemed to have been stuck somewhere under my ribs.
“Good.”
Ethan held a paper cup.
“Coffee?”
“That depends. Is it hospital coffee?”
“Yes.”
“Then I accept your apology in advance.”
He almost smiled.
Almost.
He set it beside me.
“Thank you for saving my son.”
“You already said that.”
“I’ll probably say it again.”
He looked exhausted. His tie was gone. There was a damp spot on his shoulder where Oliver had cried against him.
“Where’s Vanessa?”
“Talking to the police.”
“Is she his mother?”
His expression changed.
“No. His mother died eight months ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“We’re engaged.”
He looked down at his empty hands.
“We were.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message from Paul.
YOU ARE REMOVED FROM THE SCHEDULE PENDING INVESTIGATION. DO NOT CONTACT STAFF.
Ethan saw my face.
“What happened?”
“Apparently saving a customer is bad for business.”
Before he could answer, a man in a gray suit appeared at the curtain.
“Ms. Brooks? Martin Hale. I represent Vanessa Price.”
Ethan stood.
“Leave.”
“I only need a moment.”
“No.”
Hale held out a business card anyway.
“My client regrets the misunderstanding. She would like to cover your medical expenses and compensate you for the distress.”
“I gave a statement.”
“A statement made under extreme emotional strain.”
He set a folded document beside the coffee.
“There is no shame in correcting an inaccurate impression.”
I looked at the number on the page.
Fifty thousand dollars.
Enough to pay my rent. Fix my car. Clear the hospital bills from my mother’s last year.
For one shameful second, I saw my entire life getting easier.
Then I remembered Oliver’s empty little hands opening in the air.
I pushed the paper back.
“Your client didn’t slip.”
Hale’s expression cooled.
“Be very certain of that.”
Ethan stepped closer.
“She is.”
The lawyer left.
My phone buzzed again.
May you like
This time it was Miguel.
I SAW WHAT PAUL DID. PLEASE DON’T TELL HIM.
