Everything froze.
“What did you hear?” I asked him.
“Last night,” he said. “Behind the hospital. I sleep near the loading dock. I heard humming. Soft. Like someone trying not to cry.”
My knees almost gave out.
My daughter had been declared dead twelve hours earlier. Sudden respiratory failure. No chance of resuscitation.
I had accepted it because believing was easier than fighting.
“Where?” I asked.
“The transport van,” he answered immediately. “The one they used to bring her here.”
My husband grabbed my arm. “This is insanity.”
“Is it?” I whispered.
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