“I’ll meet you at Tulsa General within the hour.”

“Be sure you lock up the garage workbench,” I said.

“My husband’s tools are still under there.”

“I’ll take care of it, Mrs.

Quill,” he said.

Dr.

Reed climbed into the back and pulled the heavy rear doors shut from inside, the metal latch locking with a firm, solid thud as rain streamed over the red taillights.

The admissions desk sent me straight through to room four, where a pediatric nurse had already bundled Benji in three warm cotton blankets.