The Fracture and the Bread
Chapter 3 — The False Report
Thirty minutes later two police officers came into the ward.
Zane, denied the thing he wanted, had called emergency services and reported me missing — had told a dispatcher, in a steady voice, that I had abandoned a grieving elderly woman in the middle of a family crisis.
I didn’t panic.
I gestured at the foot of the bed, where the accident report sat with the X-rays of my shattered tibia and my phone with its log of fifty-two calls.
“I didn’t disappear,” I told the lead officer.