He killed the engine and looked at me.

“Stay behind me,” he said.

We walked quickly through the sliding glass doors into the main lobby.

The lobby smelled of bleach, cheap coffee, and wet wool.

A crowd of nurses and visitors had gathered near the security desk.

I heard Patricia’s voice before I saw her.

“This is an absolute outrage!” she shrieked, her voice echoing off the high tiled ceiling.

“I am the grandmother of that child!”

“You have no legal right to bar me from that wing!”

Two hospital security guards stood in front of her, their arms crossed over their chests.

Courtney stood just behind her mother, clutching a designer leather purse to her chest.

Her face was flushed red, her eyes darting nervously toward the glass entrance.

“Ma’am, you need to step back,” one of the guards said.

“I will not step back!” Patricia yelled, stamping her designer heel on the floor.

Then she saw us walking through the double doors.

Her eyes narrowed into thin slits of pure hatred.

“There she is,” Patricia screamed, pointing a manicured finger at me.