Winnie stilled to watch the woman attach a blood pressure cuff to her arm. “Good, you’re listening. You have a concussion, and we’re taking you to the hospital so none of that slapping. You got me in the face and that made me angry because I’m trying to help you.”

“My son…”

“Yes, Samuel, I know, you’ve been screaming his name for the last ten minutes. The police are looking for him. Maybe he left. All we can do right now is take care of his mother. Lie back.”

Winnie did as she was told, thinking of the open door. Yes, maybe he’d gotten out, had run before Dakota could catch him. And that was the last thing she remembered.

When she woke up again she was in the hospital, attached to what seemed like a thousand wires. Right away, she knew. There was no moment of not remembering this time, though she would have preferred that. Her eyes looked for someone to tell her about her son, but the room was empty.

“He—ey,” she said. “Hey… I’m here.”

A nurse came in a moment later, and she smiled at Winnie before hitting a button on the wall. “Paging Dr. Willis, the patient is awake.”

The patient, Winnie thought. That was her; and the nurse didn’t even have to say her name or room number. The fear of what that meant made Winnie close her eyes.

The nurse carried over a plastic cup and inserted the straw between Winnie’s lips.

“Just a little, I know your throat must be a mess.”

Winnie drank a few sips and then opened her mouth to start her barrage of questions, but the nurse cut her off.

“Dr. Willis will be here in a moment. Save your throat and ask them when he gets here.” She didn’t say it unkindly, and Winnie thought she was probably right; even the attempt at speaking had left a burning in her throat. Dr. Willis came in a few minutes later; he was youngish, with ginger hair and an aww-shucks air about him.

“Mrs. Crouch,” he said, coming to stand by the bed. “We’re very happy to see you awake. You had a pretty serious concussion.”

Winnie gathered his words and sorted them in her mind, her eyes closed. Everything was taking too long to understand.

“How long…?”

“Eleven days.” He tilted his head to the side when he said it, and for some reason that made Winnie cry.

“Where is my son? Where is my son?” She started coughing after that, and it took several minutes for her body to calm down enough to hear Dr. Willis speak.

“He’s fine. He’s with your sister.”

The relief rode through her body with such force that she tried to sit up. The wires yanked, the machine beeped and the nurse was at her side, pushing her back down gently as the doctor watched.