PART 2
The ride out of that parking lot should have been the ending.
It should have been the part people told for years with a smile.
The lost dog.
The betrayed veteran.
The fifty bikers.
The miracle in room 247.
But before the thunder of those engines had even faded off the road, Arthur’s son was already on speakerphone, screaming that his father had been kidnapped.
And just like that, the war began.
Director Voss stood in the middle of the lobby, red-faced and shaking, one hand pressed to her chest, the other gripping the reception counter like it was the only thing holding her upright.
“You have destroyed this facility,” she hissed at me.
I was still standing there with Arthur’s empty wheelchair beside me.
My nursing badge was on the floor near her shoes.
For six months, I had dreamed about what it would feel like to finally tell the truth.
I expected relief.
What I felt instead was heat.
Hot, righteous, terrifying heat.
“No,” I said. “You did that all by yourself.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“You just ended your career.”
I looked past her through the glass doors, where the last of the bikes disappeared down the road in a silver blur of sun and chrome.
For the first time in months, Arthur was not behind a locked door.
For the first time in months, Scout was not alone.
For the first time in months, I wasn’t afraid of her.
