A Fallen Heart by Cate Ashwood Read Free Book Online

heart broke for him.
    The boy shivered, and Ford wanted to hug him. He wondered when the last time was that someone had bothered. He wondered if anyone at all cared about him. He wondered where his parents were and if they were missing him. He didn’t look like he’d been taken care of in a long time. Why was he all alone?
    Usually they were able to track down family members fairly easily, but if the boy wouldn’t talk there wasn’t much they could do but hold tight and see what the police came up with.
    “I’m going to go get you a new warm blanket, okay? I’ll be right back,” Ford soothed.
    The boy gripped his hand tightly, but Ford slipped away, past the police officer stationed outside the boy’s bed since the boy had been brought in, and walked briskly to the stainless-steel cabinet in one of the supply rooms to the right of the nurses’ station. He grabbed a couple of blankets from the warmer and shut the cabinet tight before returning to the boy’s room.
    The boy was on the bed, the back inclined so he could sit up without having to exert effort. Ford unfolded the rough blanket and wrapped it around the boy’s shoulders, replacing the ones that had gone cold, draping the fabric over his emaciated body. A small smile played at the corner of the boy’s mouth, and Ford felt a wave of relief.
    “My name’s Ford,” he said, realizing he’d never introduced himself.
    “Joel.”
    The noise was small, broken, and Ford wasn’t sure he hadn’t hallucinated hearing it.
    “Joel?” Ford asked, watching carefully.
    Joel nodded slowly, his expression guarded, as though he was unsure what Ford wanted to do with that information.
    “Can you tell me your last name?”
    Joel shook his head and lowered his gaze to his lap.
    “What about how old you are?”
    He was again met with silence.
    “What if I guess? Can you nod for me?”
    Joel did as he was asked, and Ford imagined this was how Anne Sullivan felt the first time Helen Keller responded to her techniques. He could have danced, he was so happy.
    “Fifteen?”
    No response.
    “Fourteen?”
    No response.
    “Thirteen?”
    And there it was, the almost imperceptible nod to let Ford know he’d gotten it right.
    “Thirteen, okay, good. Joel, you’re doing awesome.”
    Amanda ducked her head through the curtain at that moment. “Hey, Ford, the detectives are here.”
    It took a second for Ford to process the information. He’d been so swept up in the progress he’d made, however small, with Joel, and he needed to think about what would happen next.
    “Let them know we’ll meet them in the quiet room in a minute,” he said.
    “Not a problem. Diana just arrived as well. I’ll let her know where you’ll be.”
    Ford thanked her, and she left.
    “Everything is going to be fine. They just want to ask you a few questions about your friend.”
    Joel’s eyes widened, and he started shaking all over again. Ford held his hand tighter.
    “I won’t leave, okay? I’ll be right there with you. It’ll be okay. I promise.”
    He stood from the bed and Ford helped him into a wheelchair, making sure the blankets were wrapped around him. He pushed Joel out of the curtained room and across the ER, past the nurses’ station into the quiet room, used primarily for patients who were psychologically delicate—those who had been abused or suffered some sort of trauma that didn’t require bandages or stitches.
    It was set off to the side, away from the other beds in the department, and rather than being clinical and sterile feeling, it was painted a soft blue. There was a plush couch and two chairs arranged around a small table, and there were paintings on the walls and a window to let light in.
    Diana, the social worker who often dealt with cases like this for the hospital, greeted them when they arrived. She was charmingly plump, and her dark hair was swept into a bun on the top of her head, the little wisps that escaped resembling a halo around her face. Her