“Visiting hours ended hours ago.”
Ray looked at her.
Teresa smiled faintly.
“Good thing Christmas Eve already destroyed the schedule.”
Ray rode in the ambulance with Daisy.
His motorcycle remained at the gas station.
One of the deputies promised to secure it.
Daisy fell asleep before they reached the hospital.
Her head rested against Ray's arm.
Buttons wedged between them.
Ray did not move for thirty-two minutes.
His leg throbbed.
His back hurt.
His left hand went numb.
He did not move.
When the ambulance stopped, Daisy woke.
“Santa?”
Ray looked down.
“I told you.”
“Not Santa.”
She blinked sleepily.
“Okay, Santa.”
The paramedic laughed.
Ray sighed.
Inside the hospital, Daisy was examined.
Mild dehydration.
Chapped skin.
Several healing blisters on her feet.
No serious injury.
The worst problem was hunger and exhaustion.
A nurse brought soup.
Daisy ate half.
Then fell asleep sitting up.
Ray remained outside her room.
At 1:12 a.m., Teresa came out carrying a file.
“You should go home.”
“No.”
“Mr. Mercer.”
“Ray.”
“Ray, she is safe tonight.”
He stared through the narrow window.
Daisy slept curled around Buttons.
“I heard that word before.”
“What word?”
“Safe.”
Teresa knew better than to argue.
She sat beside him.
“Her case was mishandled.”
Ray looked at her.
“That’s a careful sentence.”
“It's the sentence I can legally say at one in the morning.”
“Fair.”
“She should never have been able to disappear.”
“Agreed.”
“What happens tomorrow?”
“Emergency placement.”
Ray’s jaw tightened.
Teresa continued.
“Not the previous facility.”
“Good.”
“We're looking for relatives.”
“Any?”
“Her mother had an older sister in Kansas.”
“We haven’t established contact.”
“Father?”
“Unknown.”
Ray rubbed his beard.
“What about foster families?”
“Christmas morning is not exactly ideal timing.”
Ray looked toward Daisy.
“She has terrible timing.”
Teresa smiled.
“Yes.”
Silence.
Then Ray asked:
“Can I do something?”
“You already did.”
“No.”
“Something useful.”
Teresa studied him.
“You can't take a child home because she called you Santa.”
“I know.”
Ray sounded slightly offended.
“I’m old, not stupid.”
“Debatable.”
He looked at her.
She smiled.
Ray almost did too.
“What can I do?”
Teresa considered.
“Be consistent.”
“That’s it?”
“For a child who has had adults disappear repeatedly?”
“Yes.”
“Consistency is enormous.”
Ray looked through the glass.
“I can do that.”
At 2:03 a.m., Ray finally made the phone call.
Not to five hundred people.
One person.
His closest friend.