An older woman wearing her glasses atop her head looked up. She pointed to her left. “Take that corridor to the first hallway to the right. At that end of that hall, you’ll come to a set of double doors. Press the button on the wall to be let in.”
Voicing her thanks, Grace followed the directions the nurse gave her until she arrived at the double doors.
She pressed the button.
A click sounded, indicating the lock had released, and then the doors swung inward.
Grace entered the intensive care unit, her mind still reeling from the doctor’s words. The little girl had pneumonia.
She stopped at another nurse’s station, resting her hands atop the horseshoe-shaped counter. “Excuse me. Can you tell me where I can find the little girl that was brought in earlier with pneumonia?”
“Name?” one of the nurses muttered while tapping some keys in front of a computer screen.
“I— She— I don’t know her name. I brought her in this morning. She’s small, no shoes, brown hair.”
The nurse met Grace’s gaze. “I’m sorry, Miss…?”
“Holloway. Grace Holloway.”
“Miss Holloway, only family members are allowed to visit patients in the ICU.”
“But Doctor Frazier said I could see her. We don’t even know if she has any family.”
The nurse didn’t look convinced. She picked up the receiver of a phone. “One moment, please.”
Grace listened quietly as the nurse obviously spoke with Doctor Frazier about allowing her to visit.
Ending the call, the nurse murmured, “The third door on your left. But please make it brief.”
“Thank you.” Grace turned from the counter and made her way to the girl’s room. She stopped outside the door to use the bottle of hand sanitizer hanging there.
The sounds of medical equipment at work reached her ears upon entering, and then the child came into view.
Grace inched closer until she found herself standing next to the rail-guarded hospital bed. She gazed at the little girl’s face—a face that had been cleaned up some.
She was actually a pretty little thing, with her slightly upturned nose and small, bow-shaped mouth. Even though the poor soul’s lips were dry and cracked.
A tinge of color now stained her cheeks, making her look less of the corpse she’d resembled earlier.
Grace reached over and gently touched her small hand. “Who are you?” she whispered more to herself than the little girl. She knew the child couldn’t hear her.
But then, her lips moved without sound.
Grace gripped the girl’s hand a little firmer, stroking her thumb across those small, scratched-up knuckles. “Hi there…”
The child’s eyes opened far enough that Grace could see their color. They were a sky blue.
That glassy and unfocused gaze seemed to settle on Grace’s face. “M-Mmm...”
She’s trying to speak, Grace thought in wonder.
With her heart in her throat, Grace leaned in close. “Are you trying to say something, sweetheart?”
The girl’s dry, cracked lips moved again. “M-Mud…”
Sure that she hadn’t heard that right, Grace leaned in more. “Can you tell me your name?”
“Mud,” the little girl whispered again, stronger this time. “My name’s Mud.”
Grace’s throat nearly closed. She’d heard her right the first time. The neglected and sickly child lying helpless in that ICU was…Mud.
Chapter Six
Grace left the little girl’s room in the ICU and nearly ran into Beulah Martin, the closest thing to child protective services the small village of Jena had available to them.
Deputy Leon Capri stood at her elbow, holding his hat in his hand.
“Grace?” Beulah’s eyebrows were nearly in her hairline. “What are you doing here?”
Grace ran a hand through her long, red hair and blew out a shaky breath. She’d known Mrs. Martin for several years, since being a volunteer at the children’s home and also fostering a few of the kids. “Checking on our little patient. She’s in bad shape, Beulah.”
Beulah’s gaze softened. “Were you able to get her name? Doctor Frazier tells me that she came in unconscious.”
“Mud,” Grace quietly admitted. “Her name is Mud…”
Deputy Capri picked that moment to speak. “Mud? As in dirt?”
Grace nodded. “That’s what she told me not five minutes ago. But she could be delusional. They’ve had her sedated since her arrival this morning.”
Beulah Martin moved to step around Grace while motioning for the deputy to follow her into the child’s room. And of course, Grace re-entered right on their heels.
“Good lord,” Deputy Capri whispered, stopping at the foot of Mud’s bed. “The tribal police called us about a girl found on their lands, but they didn’t mention anything about the shape she was found in. I wonder if she was dumped there?”
Grace wondered that too. She watched Beulah move closer to the little girl’s head, the heavyset woman’s face noticeably paling.
Beulah visibly swallowed and then met Grace’s gaze. “We need to document everything. Where she was found, who found her, who brought her in… Jesus, Grace, she’s been severely neglected or abused. I…hate people.”
Grace understood Beulah’s feelings about people. Beulah had been running the children’s home in Calhoun for more than twenty years. She’d seen more neglect and abuse in that time to last her an eternity. Grace knew that. Beulah had confided in her on more than one occasion.
“I know.” Grace continued staring at Mud as she spoke, her heart still squeezing painfully. “Or she’s a runaway. But from where? I’ve never seen her in Jena. And I’ve lived there for fifteen years.”
Beulah tugged a small camera free of the purse hanging over her shoulder. She began snapping pictures of Mud while speaking to Deputy Capri. “We need to try to locate her family. According to Doctor Frazier, she’s approximately twelve to thirteen years old.”
Moving to the other side of the bed, Beulah paused and met Deputy Capri’s gaze. “Write that down.”
“Oh-oh right,” he stammered, obviously overwhelmed by the child’s condition. He tugged a pad and pen free of the right breast pocket of his shirt and began jotting down Beulah’s words.
Though the doctor had ordered Grace to stay no more than a minute, she couldn’t bring herself to leave.
A soft moan suddenly came from the little girl’s mouth. Her eyes fluttered open, and her unfocused gaze settled on the deputy standing at the foot of her bed.
She began to make panicked sounds in the back of her throat.
Beulah waved a hand in Capri’s direction. “Wait outside.”
When the deputy turned to go, Grace quickly took up position on the opposite side of the bed from Beulah. “Mud?”
The little girl turned her head in Grace’s direction. She didn’t speak, only stared up at Grace with a hauntingly terrified expression.
“Where are your parents?” Grace asked, taking the child’s hand once more.
“My mama’s dead,” the girl whispered brokenly.