“But the transport’s scheduled for eight o’clock. Her daughter already signed the transfer papers.”
“I don’t care. Nobody moves her.”
Kayla nodded and ran.
I looked at my grandmother.
“What patient?” I said. “Grandma. What patient? Who’s in Room 214?”
But before she could answer, the doctor turned and looked at me.
Right at me. Like he’d known I was there the whole time. Like he knew exactly who I was.
“Daniel,” he said quietly.
I froze.
I had never seen this man before in my life. I was sure of it. And he knew my name.
“Daniel,” he said again. “There’s something about your family you’ve never been told.”
Dr. Hale led us down the hallway to a small consultation room. The kind of room where doctors take families to give them bad news. Four soft chairs. A box of tissues on a little round table. A painting of a sailboat on the wall.
