Page 137 of Finders Keepers

“Don’t fight it,” Nurse Sam says softly, patting my shoulder. “Your body needs rest to heal. I’ll be back to check on you in a little while.” She adjusts something on one of the monitors and heads toward the door, pausing to look back at Gavin. “Make sure she doesn’t try to talk too much. Small sips of water are fine, but her throat needs time.”

Gavin nods, his thumb still making those soothing circles on my hand.

“Thank you.” He replies.

As the door closes behind her with a soft click, I feel myself drifting, everything around me growing fuzzy. The steady beep of monitors fades into white noise, and the last thing I’m aware of is Gavin’s voice in the distance, “I’m right here, baby. Get some rest.”

The pain medication pulls me under like a gentle tide, and I float away on it, knowing that for the first time in a long time, I’m truly safe. Sophie is protected, Matt is in custody, and Gavin is here, standing guard like a sentinel. His presence alone makes me feel safer than any locked door ever could. The nightmare is over, even if the recovery is just beginning.

My last coherent thought before sleep claims me completely is of Sophie, and I pray that she knows how much I love her, how proud I am of her. We’ll get through this together, my brave little girl and me and maybe we can finally start building the life we deserve, free from fear and full of love, the kind of life I’ve always dreamed of giving her.

Later that night, I blink slowly, trying to focus on Sophie’s animated face as she shows me her latest drawing. Even through the fog of pain medication, seeing her smile warms my heart like a ray of sunshine breaking through storm clouds. She’s perched carefully on the edge of my hospital bed, while Ms. Lucy sits in one of the visitor chairs, her knitting needles clicking softly in a soothing rhythm. Gavin stands by the window, his presence a constant comfort, occasionally glancing between me and the hallway outside.

“Look, Mama,” Sophie holds up another piece of artwork proudly. “It’s you and me and Gavin!”

I manage a small smile, careful not to move my neck too much in the stiff brace. The drawing is a beautiful mess of colorful stick figures surrounded by what I assume are flowers and Gavin’s house, complete with a lopsided chimney and what appears to be Nugget next to us.

A knock at the door draws everyone’s attention. Officer Martinez enters, his expression serious.

“Ms. Monroe,” he says, then glances around the room, his eyes lingering briefly on each person. “I need to speak with you privately about some case details. Would everyone mind stepping out for a moment?”

Ms. Lucy immediately stands, tucking her half-finished knitting project into her floral tote. “Come on, Sophie. Let’s go down to the cafeteria and get some of that chocolate milk you like.”

Sophie’s lower lip trembles slightly as she looks at me, her small hands clutching her drawing. “I don’t wanna leave Mama.”

“It’s okay, baby,” I whisper, the words still rough and painful in my throat.

Gavin moves to leave, but I protest, my heart rate picking up slightly at the thought of him going.

“No, please stay.” I manage.

He smiles faintly and walks over to the side of my bed, and I pick up his hand, squeezing it weakly. Officer Martinez seems to understand, his expression softening slightly. “Mr. Mitchell can stay if you’d like, Ms. Monroe.”

Once Sophie and Ms. Lucy are gone, he pulls out his notepad and sits in the recently vacated chair, adjusting his uniform as he settles in.

“I wanted to update you on the situation with Matthew Monroe,” he begins, his tone professional. “He’s being held without bail due to the severity of the assault and the violation of the restraining order. The judge was quite clear about that.”

I feel Gavin’s fingers tighten around mine, his thumb brushing soothingly across my knuckles as Officer Martinez continues. “We’ve discovered how he located you in Pine Grove.” He pauses, his expression apologetic, shoulders dropping slightly. “Apparently there was a clerical error in the divorce paperwork processing. When Mr. Monroe was served the papers, your new address was listed on the documentation instead of being redacted as requested. It should never have happened.”

My entire body goes rigid, like ice has replaced the blood in my veins. Tears spring to my eyes and spill down my cheeks before I can even process what I’m hearing. A clerical error. A stupid, careless mistake by someone who probably went home that day without a second thought, while my entire world shattered because of it.

“A clerical error?” My voice cracks. The monitors beside my bed start beeping faster, the rhythm declaring the thundering in my chest.

Gavin’s hand tightens around mine. “Bailey, try to breathe.”

But I can’t. The room feels like it’s spinning. I did everything right. Everything. Gotten a restraining order, filed for divorce properly, kept a low profile. And still, Matt found us because someone couldn’t be bothered to do their job correctly.

“Do you know what he did to me?” I choke out, the anger rising like magma inside me. “Do you understand what could have happened to my daughter? Because someone couldn’t check a box or redact an address?”

The monitor’s beeping grows more frantic. Officer Martinez stands, concern etched on his face.

“Ms. Monroe, please try to—”

“No!” The word tears from my throat, raw and primal. “I did everything right! Everything! And you’re telling me that all it took was some paperwork mistake to put my daughter in danger again?”

My chest heaves with each breath. The rage feels foreign, overwhelming. I’ve spent so long being afraid, being careful, being quiet. But now? Now I’m furious.

“Who was responsible?” I rasp out, ignoring the pain shooting through my neck as I try to sit up straighter. “Who made this mistake? I want names. I want accountability.”

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