Page 3 of Muted

She nods once, then turns around and heads back into her own trailer, leaving the mess that Laura Evans has left behind her.

Frail arms tighten around my neck as the sirens get louder. She draws my eyes to her face, and I find another wave of compassion for her filter through me. “It’ll work out, kid,” I mutter, more for myself than her, then cover her ears again as the ambulance pulls up in front of us.

“Momma get in car.” Whipping my head down to stare at her, I open my mouth to ask a follow up question, but she’s already mumbling an answer. “Bigcar.” She looks terrified of the ambulance, so I decide to wait and see if I can get more information from her later. Our priority right now is to make sure she’s healthy.

Holding her to me, I grab the bar when the paramedics open the back door and haul the two of us into the back. Susanna cries out when I attempt to set her on the bed, scrambling to hang on to me. “No! No nonoooo... Want up!”

With a glance at the paramedics, I ask, “Can I sit and hold her while you check her over?” I’m hoping they’ll say yes because I think this girl has been traumatized enough. Holding her is a small comfort to ensure she’s relaxed instead of having her fight them.

Shifting us around, I sit on the edge of the gurney and adjust her to sit sideways on my lap so she can lean against me. I’m not sure how I should distract her until a story my mom used to read to me pops into my head. I try my best to remember the gist and begin to narrate it softly as I hug her to me, her head tilted back as she watches my lips. The paramedics quietly shut the door, then look her over while we make our way to the hospital.

I’m surprised that Susanna doesn’t seem to be bothered while they lift her arms, poke and prod, as they take her vitals. She’s engrossed in my story and is soon blinking slowly. We’re still at least ten minutes from the hospital when her entire body relaxes into me as she falls asleep, obviously exhausted from the ordeal she’s been through over the past few days.

A small smile lifts the corner of my mouth when she exhales out a shuddering sigh. I meet the eyes of the woman who’s taking her temperature, rolling the thermometer across her forehead and then behind her ear.

She meets my grin with a sad smile of her own. “Poor thing.”

There’s a lump in my throat, so I clear it away before asking, “Is she okay?”

Her eyes flick to mine briefly before she looks back at what she’s doing. I think she’s cleaning away some of the dirt on her arm to try to take some blood. “She seems to be. Maybe a bit dehydrated and certainly underweight, but overall, I think you found her in plenty of time.”

“I don’t know how long she’s been alone, but it looked like she was able to find some food. Her mom is missing.” I’m not sure if she wants to hear the details, but talking to someone feels important, like they should know Susanna’s story.

She furrows her brows and hums under her breath. Without responding to what I’ve shared, she pulls her tray closer and sits down in front of us. “I need to draw some blood. I want to try while she’s asleep. Do you think you can keep her from shifting around if she wakes up?”

“Yeah, I’ll make sure she doesn’t move.” Tightening my hold around her body, I tense when Susanna whimpers as the paramedic slides a tiny needle into the crook of her arm, trying to wiggle away, but then I relax when she stops fighting and stays asleep.

We both blow out a relieved breath that she made this so easy. For a three-year-old, she’s pretty docile. I would have expected kicking and screaming, but this little girl is something else.

The rest of the drive is uneventful, and the medical staff at the hospital allow me to carry her in when we arrive. Throughout all the shifting around and movement, Susanna wakes again and stares fearfully around, taking in all the new people and activity as they set up the room to process her into their system.

“Where’s your daddy, Susanna?” the nurse asks her. I wince, kicking myself for not thinking about asking her that.

A ball settles in my gut when I look into her tear-streaked, sticky face and watch as confusion settles over her. She mouths ‘daddy’ to herself and then looks up at me, wide-eyed, like I can give her the answer to the question.I don’t think she knows what that word means.

“I, uh… I’m not sure there’s one in the picture,” I tell the nurse, and she nods her head in understanding. The neighbor didn’t mention a father or guy hanging around the home, so I’m confident I’m correct.

The next few hours seem to crawl by while I sit on the edge of the bed in the room they’ve assigned to Susanna, holding her while she slips in and out of napping, never loosening her hold around my body.

My captain called about an hour into our wait and said I was fine to stay here until they’re able to track down next of kin. They’re also going to file a missing person’s report for her mother, Laura.

The ringing of my phone has Susanna jerking in my arms, but she rolls her head to the side and stays asleep. I answer quickly after seeing it’s my captain again, and whisper, “Cooper.”

“Alright, this is what we’ve got. Looks like the mom, Laura Evans, has been missing for close to five days, give or take. We haven’t been able to get a hold of Laura’s mother, but we managed to track down her sister, Elaine Fisher. Elaine and her husband are on their way into the hospital now and will meet with CPS so they can take the little girl.”

I’m relieved that she at least has someone out there rather than sending her into the system. “What about the father?” I ask, curious if there is anyone out there for Susanna.

He blows out a breath through the phone and sighs. “Yeah, that’s kind of a tricky one. You catch the little girl’s last name? Walston?”

“The name doesn’t mean anything to me.” I’ve only been in this town for less than a year, so I’m not caught up on town gossip or politics.

“The Walston family has a lot of ties here. That girl is the daughter of Royce Walston who died of an overdose about two years ago. He got involved with drugs after meeting Laura Evans and they partied a little too hard. Shame too, he had a lot going for him. He was set for life. We were able to contact Royce’s father, Arthur Walston. He knows of the grandchild but hasn’t met her. Mr. Walston may be coming up there as well, just as a head’s up. He offered to take the girl as well, but Laura had listed her mother and then sister as emergency contacts. I believe CPS is going to want to send her home with the aunt.”

My eyes move to the door when I hear it click open and watch as an older gentleman in a suit steps into the room, his eyes immediately falling on the sleeping girl in my arms.

“I think Mr. Walston just showed up. I’ll keep you updated,” I tell my captain before disconnecting the phone. I study the older man as he studies Susanna. “YouareMr. Arthur Walston, correct?”

“I am.” His voice is low, cold, and emotionless. “Is this the girl?”

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