Not at my badge.
At me.
“I don’t know where I am,” she whispered.
Tears slid down her cheeks.
“I can’t find my home.”
Her voice wasn’t angry.
It wasn’t confused in the usual way.
It was terrified.
Sitting on the Curb
Instead of standing over her, I turned off the flashing lights and walked away from the cruiser.
Then I did something that probably looked strange on a police report.
I sat down on the curb next to her.
The pavement was cold and dirty, but that didn’t matter.
I took off my jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.
Her hands were ice-cold when I held them.
Thin. Fragile. Trembling.
Continued on the next page
