“Put the phone in your pocket and keep both hands on the wheel.”

The light turned green, but Ethan stayed at the line for three seconds until the driver behind us tapped the horn twice.

He pressed the gas, sending the wagon forward through the wet slush collecting along the gutters.

Five minutes later, the blue neon sign for Oakridge General Hospital cut through the darkness ahead.

Ethan pulled into the emergency entrance loop and parked in a spot marked for temporary patient drop-off.

He turned off the engine, unbuckled his seatbelt, and immediately unzipped his leather messenger bag on the passenger seat.