“Stay in Maricopa County, Mrs.

Ramos,” Henderson said.

“We’ll have more questions after the medical team finishes their intake summary.”

We walked out through the double glass doors into the hospital courtyard, where the midsummer Phoenix heat hit us like an open furnace.

Mariana sat on a green wooden bench under a canvas umbrella, holding an ice pack against Noah’s knee.

The skin above his sock was scraped dark red and coated in yellow antiseptic from the intake nurse.

“Grandma told me I was bad for riding on Thomas Road,” Noah whispered, twisting the hem of his striped shirt into a tight knot.