Chapter 2 - The Search for Kendra
The sun had set over Willow Creek Medical Center, painting the winter sky outside the ICU windows in shades of bruised purple and charcoal gray.
Sarge had not moved from his chair in four hours.
Kangaroo care—skin-to-skin contact—was supposed to last for an hour or two, but every time Mara had approached to gently suggest placing Evelyn back in her incubator, the baby’s heart rate had dipped slightly, and Sarge had looked up with such silent, desperate pleading that Mara hadn't had the heart to interrupt.
Instead, she brought him a styrofoam cup of black coffee, which grew cold on the side table untouched.
“You can’t stay here forever, Sarge,” Mara said quietly, leaning against the nurses' station counter. “Visiting hours for volunteers ended an hour ago. Dr. Henderson made an exception because of the stabilization, but tomorrow morning, administration is going to ask questions.”
“Let them ask,” Sarge said without looking up. “I’m not leaving her.”
“What about her mother?” Jasmine asked, walking over with a fresh stack of charts. “Social services left a file on the desk. They’re classifying Baby Girl—Evelyn—as an abandoned infant. If Kendra doesn't turn up within seventy-two hours, the state steps in. She’ll go into the foster system.”
Sarge’s head snapped up. The fierce, terrifying intensity in his eyes made Jasmine step back instinctively.
“No,” Sarge said, his voice dropping into a lethal whisper. “No state system is touching Captain Vale’s blood. I made a promise in the dust of Afghanistan that I would look after his family. I failed his daughter once. I am not failing his granddaughter.”
“Sarge, you don't have legal custody,” Mara reasoned, her tone gentle but firm. “You’re a volunteer. Unless you’re a blood relative or have an emergency foster license, the state won't just hand her over to you.”
“Then we find Kendra,” Sarge said, standing up with infinite care, transferring the sleeping baby back into the warm, humidified embrace of the incubator.
He didn't hesitate. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a worn leather wallet, and extracted a small, dog-eared business card.
“What’s that?” Mara asked.
“A private investigator in downtown San Antonio,” Sarge replied, pulling his green shirt straight over his broad shoulders. “An old buddy from my private security days. If Kendra is still in this city, hiding out in the motels near the railyard or the east side shelters, he’ll find her before midnight.”
“Sarge,” Mara warned, stepping into his path as he headed toward the double doors. “If you go looking for her, do it legally. If you scare her, or if the police get involved—especially with your military background and the red tape—you could lose your volunteer clearance here permanently. And Evelyn needs you.”
Sarge stopped. He looked back at the incubator where tiny Evelyn was sleeping under the blue phototherapy light.
May you like
The anger drained out of him, leaving only a profound, bone-deep exhaustion.
“I won't scare her,” Sarge promised. “I just need to bring her home. Both of them.”
