Children who arrive in the middle of a storm pulling another child in a shopping cart have already learned too much about sudden movements.
“Easy, sweetheart,” he said, lowering his voice. “You’re safe. What happened?”
The girl did not answer right away. Water dripped from her sleeves onto the floor. It gathered around her shoes in a small dark halo.
“Where’s your mom?” Miller asked.
“She’s sick,” the girl whispered. “Real sick.”
He came around the desk slowly and dropped to one knee beside the cart.
The child inside did not open her eyes. Her skin was pale, her lips nearly colorless, and sweat shone on her forehead even though the lobby was cold.
Miller touched two fingers lightly to her wrist.
The pulse was there, but wrong.
Too quick.
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