His hands were shaking so badly he almost dropped it.
"911!"
Allison held Logan against her chest.
"Please..."
Her voice broke.
"Please save my baby."
And somewhere far away, a siren began to rise.
The Emergency Room
The ambulance took twenty-three minutes.
Nick would remember that number for the rest of his life.
Twenty-three minutes between the brick and the hospital.
Twenty-three minutes of Allison praying.
Twenty-three minutes of Logan fighting to remain alive.
At the emergency room, everything became white.
White walls.
White lights.
White uniforms.
White sheets.
But there was nothing clean about the fear inside the Grace family.
Doctors rushed Logan into surgery.
Allison sat in a plastic chair outside the trauma room.
She stared at her hands.
There was blood beneath her fingernails.
Her son's blood.
Nick paced the hallway.
In his right hand, he held a jagged piece of the brick.
Detective Jared Wells approached.
Early forties.
Tired eyes.
A notebook in his hand.
"You said the men were with the HOA?"
"They said they were."
"They weren't police?"
"No."
"Did they show identification?"
"No."