Falling With Grace

My knee had a clean bill of health, just a bruised bone. They’d reset my shoulder once again and x-rayed my skull and rib.

“Okay, Sarah.” She popped her eyes up from her paper. “Is there anything else you can tell me about who took you?”

I stared at the spot on the wall.

Was it growing?

“Sarah?”

“Hmm?” I tore my focus away and looked at the woman in her mid-fifties, wearing a black uniform with her name tag embroidered above the right breast.

“Is there anything else you can tell me?”

I shook my head, wincing.

Why didn’t I give her a different name?

“So, you didn’t get a good look at the men? And how long did they hold you for?”

“A few days… I think.”

They couldn’t help me.

I’d be a fool if I gave themhisinformation. He had people with a reach further than the eye could see.

He was impervious to the law.

Hell, even she could be on his payroll.

“And you never knew his name?” Her brows created a furrowed line of doubt across her forehead, and the corners of her mouth dipped.

“No.”

I feigned a yawn and covered my mouth with my hand, leaned my head back against the flat pillow, and then pulled the itchy hospital blanket up to my chin.

She gave a subtle shake of her head. “I’m almost done. A few more questions, and then you can rest.” The pen in her hand tumbled to the floor with a clatter, and she picked it up. “You left the emergency contact on your paperwork blank. Why?”

“I don’t have anyone.”

“No friends or family? What about a boyfriend?”

I shook my head. “I’m an orphan and never had the opportunity to date.”

The woman flicked a brown strand of hair away from her brow, then scribbled something down. “Okay, and how did you get to Mexico?”

My stomach churned, and my heart hit the gas pedal.

“Hey, girl.”

A man in his late thirties bends over me, my hair hanging over the side of the park bench.

I sat straight up, a tingle coursing down my skin as he glanced over me.

“Do you need help?” He hikes a thumb over his shoulder, his Spanish accent strong. “We’re making a trip to the women’s shelter. You can catch a ride with us.”

I swallow, his chiseled jawline covered with dark short hairs and the dark eyes like that of chocolate.

“I’m okay.”