The Good Father. Tara Taylor Quinn

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      They had nothing concrete at the moment to keep Ted Burbank away from his family. Which meant that the possibly abusive man had visitation rights at the hospital with his son, Henry.

      Charge nurse Ella Ackerman, the ex–Mrs. Brett Ackerman, was on full alert.

      Brett needed a drink.

      * * *

      ELLA WENT INTO work early Friday morning. She’d had a text from Rhonda, a four-to-twelve charge nurse, telling her that Henry’s mom had just called to say she was on her way in and would like them to hold off doing Henry’s early morning assessment so that she could be present. Rhonda’s text came because of the note Ella had left on Henry’s chart, telling everyone to let her know anytime Mom or Dad were present, or expected to be present.

      Because there wasn’t enough evidence, or a family member willing to testify, the police couldn’t do anything for Henry or Nora yet. But Ella could. That was what the High Risk team was all about. Everyone working together to devise individual plans for the safety of high-risk victims, or potential victims. Henry coming to them with a life-threatening infection, signs of poor G-tube care and bruises made the case high risk.

      And the team hoped that if Ella could get Nora alone, maybe the mother would speak more openly. At least Ella hoped so. She’d only spoken to one member of the team, an Officer Sanchez, from the Santa Raquel police department. Her first regular monthly High Risk team meeting, where she’d officially be introduced and meet everyone else, wouldn’t be until the following week.

      She was being inducted by fire, the middle-aged officer had told her when he’d stopped by her apartment the night before. Thankfully Chloe had been giving Cody a bath, so Ella had had a few minutes to speak privately.

      Ella was on the floor with a welcoming smile when Nora Burbank showed up at the exact time Rhonda had said to expect her. The twenty-year-old was in jeans with fancy stitching and jeweled pockets, and a T-shirt, both clean and newer-looking. Her dark, waist-length hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She had rhinestoned flip-flops on her feet. No tattoos. No makeup.

      And no visible signs of physical abuse. Just as Juan Sanchez had relayed.

      “You’re here alone?” she asked after she introduced herself as Henry’s nurse and walked the woman through the secure door to Pod B. Sanchez had warned her that Nora wasn’t likely to show up alone.

      The young woman looked at the floor as she nodded. And otherwise kept her gaze trained in front of them. On the stations they were passing. Not on people. Not on the nurses and orderlies bustling about in the hall, nor on the young patients in cribs and those in need of an Isolette, who were situated in the open unit.

      “Ted got called into work. He thinks I’m at home,” Nora said softly, chin almost to her chest. Ella had the impression that the soft tone was more the woman’s usual demeanor than a reaction to the very sick children around them. “His mom’s supposed to be watching me, but I went out the back door when she went to the restroom.”

       Watching her?

      “You drove yourself here?” They were nearing Henry’s crib.

      “I don’t have a car,” Nora said. “I took the bus...” Nora’s words broke off as she caught sight of her son and hurried forward, tears in her eyes and a smile on her lips. The young woman was obviously comfortable around the various tubes connected to her son. And mindful of every single thing that happened over the next two hours. Nora assisted with bathing and changing the baby. She handled his feeding completely on her own. With the ease of a professional.

      She spoke to him. Sang to him. Distracted him when he got a poke. And played age-appropriate games with him, from peekaboo, to track-the-tiger—having him follow a stuffed animal with his eyes, bringing the toy close enough for him to reach for and eventually letting him grab it.

      Ella had no proof that Ted Burbank was anything other than, in her opinion, overly protective and too controlling of his family, but she was certain of two things. First, there was no way Henry’s mother would ever have willingly fed her son by mouth, willingly allowed anyone else to do so, or allowed any improper handling of the G-tube. Nora watched every member of the medical staff with an educated eye.

      And second, little Henry meant the world to her.

      Nora began watching the clock shortly before eleven. Ella had purposely been on the pod all morning, but seeing patients other than just Henry. She’d kept an eye on Nora, though, and noticed when the woman started to become more agitated. As soon as she finished administering TPN, intravenous nourishment, to a baby whose stomach couldn’t digest food, Ella made her way over to Nora.

      “You ready for a break?” she asked the young woman who’d been holding her son for the past hour.

      “I have to leave,” Nora said with another glance at the clock. “Ted comes home for lunch at twelve-thirty.”

      And his mother couldn’t make his lunch for him?

      “Surely he’d understand if you missed lunch just once.”

      “He can’t know I’ve been away.”

      “His mother knows.”

      “She won’t say anything to him.”

      “She’s your advocate, then?” There’d been bruises on Grandma’s arms. But the older woman had blamed Nora for the baby’s ill health. Because her son had been right there?

      “No, she thinks I’m the whore who trapped him. But he’ll be pissed at her for losing sight of me, so she won’t tell.”

      “Will he hurt her?”

      Nora’s chin fell to her baby’s forehead. “No, of course not.”

      “You don’t have to go back, you know.” She wasn’t a counselor or experienced with victims of domestic violence. But she knew some things. “You don’t have to stay with him.”

      Nora looked down at her son. Swallowed, and then, with a peculiar strength in her gaze, met Ella’s eyes. “I know Ted’s a bit aggressive at times, but he takes care of us,” she said with utter conviction. “He means well. He tries hard. He works long hours to support us...”

      Were these Nora’s words? Or Ted’s? Repeated over and over to the point that Nora believed the thoughts were her own? Were they true, or had Ted manipulated his young wife to the point that she didn’t have a mind of her own? Ella had done a lot of reading.

      She knew how these things often worked.

      But...

      “Aggression isn’t okay.” She said the only thing she knew to say. “And—”

      “I have no one else.” Nora’s words were a statement. “My family disowned me when I got pregnant.” She nodded toward the sleeping baby she still cuddled, in spite of her announcement that she had a bus to catch. “I’d just graduated from high school. I’ve never even had a job. But even if I had, it’s not like I can just leave Henry with a sitter or at a day care and go off to work. He needs full-time trained care...”

      Sounded as though СКАЧАТЬ