I glanced through the small window in Oliver’s door. He sat very still, clutching the blanket like it was the only solid thing left.
“What do I do?” I asked.
Detective Reed’s voice softened. “Stay with him until child protective services arrives. Tell the staff to flag his chart. No visitors except approved personnel.”
“I barely know him.”
“But his mother trusted you.”
I looked at the letter in my hand.
Twelve years of silence, and Rachel still remembered me as the one who saw both sides.
So I went back into the room, pulled my chair closer to Oliver’s bed, and said, “I’m not leaving tonight.”
For the first time since I arrived, he breathed like he believed me.
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