would bring my mother home. Waiting had given me nothing but sleepless nights and unanswered questions.
I slipped the plastic bag into my pocket and headed for the door.
This time, I wasn’t waiting for anyone.
I reached the hospital in twelve minutes and ran from the parking lot with my mother’s ring clenched inside my fist.
At reception, a woman in blue scrubs looked up as I approached.
The receptionist studied the photograph.
“I’m searching for my mother.” I pulled a folded missing-person poster from my bag and flattened it on the desk. “Her name is Evelyn. She disappeared four months ago.”
The receptionist studied the photograph. “I’m sorry, but I can’t give out information about our patients.”
“Please.” I opened the plastic bag and showed her the ring. “She was wearing this when she vanished. Last night, two people dropped it at the restaurant where I work, and
