Thirty minutes, perhaps a little more, and the worst of it was over. The faint warmth spreading beneath my fingertips told me the channels were open, the blood moving again. The new doctor had nearly crippled her nerves. One more wrong movement and she would have lost function in that leg for months. The thought made my stomach turn. I wanted to find him and make him feel every ounce of the pain he’d caused this child.
But anger wouldn’t help her heal. I forced my heartbeat to slow, removed my gloves, and wiped the sweat from my forehead. The night air outside the car tasted metallic. Vincent’s vehicle still idled nearby, headlights off, engine humming. But when I looked through the windshield, the driver’s seat was empty. He had stepped away, maybe to take a call, maybe because watching
