Chapter 3

Kayden''s POV

The police officer looks too young to be dealing with this.

Officer Martinez can''t be much older than me, maybe twenty-five. But her eyes are hard when she shows us the photos.

"These are her injuries," she says, sliding the pictures across the table. "We need to document everything for the case."

I can''t look at them for long. The bruises are worse than I thought. Fingerprints around her throat. Old scars mixed with fresh cuts.

Mom pushes the photos away. "I can''t. I can''t look at those."

"We need to find out who she is," Martinez continues. "Run her DNA, see if we can locate any relatives. Maybe someone who''s been looking for her."

"What if whoever''s been looking for her is the one who did this?" I ask.

"That''s a possibility we''re considering. But she might have other family. Grandparents, aunts, uncles. Someone who could give her a safe home."

The doctor from yesterday walks in. Dr. Chen, I think her name is.

"How is she?" Dad asks immediately.

"Awake. And asking for you."

My heart jumps. "She''s talking?"

"Writing. Her throat is too damaged for speech right now. But she''s been asking for ''the family that found me.''"

Martinez closes her folder. "I need to speak with her first."

"She''s barely conscious," Dr. Chen says firmly. "And she''s terrified. Pushing her right now could cause more trauma."

"This is a criminal investigation—"

"And she''s my patient. She gets visitors when I say she''s ready."

I like Dr. Chen.

Martinez doesn''t look happy but she nods. "Fine. But I need to talk to her today. We''ve already waited too long."

An hour later, Dr. Chen comes back.

"She wants to see you. But only you," she says, looking at me. "She wrote your description and said ''the boy with kind eyes.''"

Kind eyes? I''ve never thought about what my eyes look like.

"Can I go in?"

"Five minutes. She tires easily."

The room is small and white and smells like disinfectant. She looks tiny in the hospital bed, connected to machines that beep softly.

Her face is a mess of bruises but her eyes are alert. Sharp. When she sees me, some of the tension in her shoulders eases.

There''s a notepad and pen on the table next to her bed. She reaches for it with shaky hands.

Thank you, she writes. For not leaving me.

"We weren''t going to leave you," I say, pulling a chair closer to her bed. "I''m Kayden, by the way. Kayden Miller."

She writes something else and shows me.

I''m Talia.

"Talia." I say it out loud and she nods slightly. "That''s a pretty name."

She writes more.

Are the police going to make me go back?

"Back where?"

Her hand shakes as she writes.

To my father.

The way she writes the word ''father'' makes my stomach turn.

"Is he the one who hurt you?"

She nods, then quickly writes: Don''t tell them. Please. He''ll find me.

"Talia, you''re safe here. No one''s going to hurt you anymore."

You don''t understand. He''ll come for me. He always finds me.

"How long have you been running?"

Three days. But I''ve tried before.

Three days. She''s been on the street for three days in this condition.

"What about your mom?"

Talia''s expression goes completely blank. She stares at the notepad for a long time before writing.

She''s gone.

"Gone how?"

But she won''t write anymore. Just shakes her head and closes her eyes.

A nurse comes in. "Time''s up. She needs rest."

"I''ll be back tomorrow," I tell Talia.

She opens her eyes and writes quickly: Promise?

"Promise."

As I''m leaving, I hear Dr. Chen talking to Martinez in the hallway.

"We''re running the DNA. Should have results in a few days. But that girl has been through hell. When you do interview her, be gentle."

"I''ve handled abuse cases before."

"Not like this one. Look at her chart. Malnutrition, dehydration, evidence of long-term physical trauma. And that''s just what we can see."

I stop walking. Evidence of long-term trauma.

How long has this been going on?