Three Days on the Pediatric Ward Showed Me What My Mother Tried to Steal From My Son

“Good morning, Mrs.

Whitaker.

Let me bring up your file on the main screen.”

His keystrokes sounded quick and light over the static on the landline.

“Here’s the account,” Warren said.

“There’s a pending transaction from a bridal boutique, time-stamped at eight fifteen this morning.”

“Was the transaction made online or in person?” I asked.

“It was an in-person card swipe at the register downtown,” Warren said.