Chapter 20 October 20th 2025
Whit pulled up behind an ambulance. There was a loud quiet inside the Emergency Room at Mud Creek’s small hospital. Whit and Lucy helped Grace limp up the counter. Heads turned, Grace had a bloody towel against the side of her head, her big pink Hello Kitty sweatshirt was stained with blood, and her pink tights and short skirt looked out of place in the blue green fluorescent lights.
The woman at the desk didn’t react outwardly. She glanced up once, took it all in, and stood immediately.
“Head injury?” she asked.
“Yes,” Lucy said. “She was hit by a heavy bookcase. She’s dizzy and her ankle’s injured.”
The woman nodded and picked up a clipboard, already moving around the counter. “Sweetie, what’s your name?”
Grace swallowed. “Grace.”
“Last name?”
She hesitated just long enough to be noticeable, “Miller.” Her voice wobbled.
“Okay, Grace. Any loss of consciousness?”
“I… I don’t know,” Grace said. “Something…. I couldn’” She trailed off, eyes drifting.
“That’s okay,” the woman said calmly. “We’ll figure it out.”
A nurse appeared from a side door with a wheelchair. “Let’s get you off that ankle.”
Grace protested weakly, “I can walk.”
“I know honey,” The nurse said and gently guided Grace into the chair.
Lucy helped her sit. Grace’s hands were shaking now that the adrenaline had nowhere to go. The towel slipped, and the nurse gently replaced it, applying firmer pressure. Blood seeped through anyway.
“On a scale of one to ten, how bad’s the pain in your head?” the nurse asked.
“Six?” Grace said, uncertain.
“And the ankle?”
“Eight.”
The nurse nodded. “Any nausea?”
Grace nodded immediately. “A little.”
“Any medications? Allergies?”
Grace blinked. “I, um… I take…”
The nurse glanced up at her. “Are you her mom?”
Lucy hesitated. “No. I’m, we’re friends. I’m with her.”
“That’s fine,” the nurse said, already steering the wheelchair down the hall. “You can come with us for now.”
They passed curtained bays, a man coughing behind one, a child crying behind another. The nurse pulled into a small room and helped Grace onto the bed.
“Okay, Grace, I’m going to need you to keep your eyes open for me,” she said, shining a light briefly into each pupil. “You’re doing good.”
Grace’s breathing started to hitch. “I don’t have insurance,” she said suddenly. “I can’t pay. I should go.”
The nurse didn’t stop what she was doing. “That’s not something you need to worry about right now.”
“It is,” Grace insisted, panic creeping in. “I can’t pay for this.”
Lucy stepped closer to the bed. “Grace. Hey. Look at me.”
Grace turned her head slowly.
“You’re hurt,” Lucy said. “They’re going to take care of you. We’ll deal with the rest later.”
Grace’s eyes filled, tears cutting clean tracks through the grime and blood on her face. She nodded once, small and exhausted.
The nurse pulled the curtain partway. “Doctor’ll be in soon. We’ll get you cleaned up and probably do a scan, okay?”
Grace’s voice was barely audible. “Okay.”
Whit stood back against the wall, hands shoved deep into his pockets, watching the curtain sway slightly as the nurse stepped out. The reality of it all finally hit him, sharp and nauseating.
Lucy reached out and took Grace’s hand.
“You’re not alone,” she said quietly.
Grace squeezed back, just enough to be felt.
***
Debbie dialed Grace’s number again. “God damn it, answer your damn phone Grayson.”
The truth was she didn’t even know if she was calling the correct number, her son might have changed it. She hadn’t talked to him in nearly a year. Debbie Miller cursed the world, the cruel and wicked world that took her son away from her. She turned off the highway onto County Highway 10.
Her thoughts turned to frequent territory. This was all Nick’s fault, if he’d been a better father. If he hadn’t been so busy with work, if he hadn’t been so preoccupied chasing flossies then this wouldn’t have happened. It was his idea to let Grayson live in the trailer.
The weather said the storm hit hardest SouthEast of town, that trees were down. They called it a microburst. Several homes had been damaged. There was no way she could sleep. After the third time she couldn’t get through, Debbie got dressed and pulled out of the garage at 10 PM.
Thirty minutes later she pulled up to her ex-husband’s old hunting trailer and gasped. She got out of her SUV and stood there for a moment, taking in the ruined structure. “Oh no. No.” she said and cautiously went up the steps and through the opening where the front door hung. She saw a blood soaked fleece throw, and blood on the carpet. Then she noticed a red handprint near the door frame.
“Grayson!” she screamed. She searched the small trailer quickly then went outside. The old truck was still in the driveway, she made sure her son wasn’t in it. With no other place to look she called 911.
Debbie’s hands were shaking so badly she nearly dropped the phone as she told them her son was missing. The dispatcher kept her voice steady, asked her to step back inside and calmly search the structure again. She then asked if anyone else was with her son.
“No,” Debbie said. “No, he was alone.”
Her shaking hands tried to dial another number. It took a few tries and finally she heard a tired voice answer the phone, ‘Debbie, is everything OK?”
“Grayson, the storm. Nick! I can’t find him.” Debbie said.
“The storm? I guess we didn’t get much up here, just a little wind. What do you mean? You can’t find Grace? Did something happen?”
Why had it been so easy for him to just accept it? To use that name, like it was no big deal. “The trailer it’s destroyed, there’s blood but I can’t find him.” Debbie said.
“Call 911, I’m on my way.” Nick said.
Within minutes headlights washed across the trees. A county sheriff’s cruiser rolled up slow, tires crunching on gravel. The deputy stepped out, tall, broad-shouldered, rain still clinging to his hat brim. The rain had finally stopped.
“Ma’am,” he said gently. “I’m Deputy Harris. You the one who called?”
“Yes,” Debbie said, rushing toward him. “My son lives here. Grayson. He’s gone. There’s blood. The storm knocked the trailer over.”
“Okay,” Harris said, holding up a hand. “Let’s take this one step at a time.”
He followed her inside, flashlight sweeping the small space. He didn’t react when he saw the blood, but his posture changed, alert now. He crouched near the couch, noted the soaked fleece, the smear on the carpet, the handprint near the doorframe. He also noted from the room’s decorations that this didn’t look like a place where a young man lived. They walked around and looked at the rear of the trailer where Grace’s bedroom had been, it’s contents spilled into the grass.
Officer Harris reached down and picked up a fuzzy teddybear in a pink dress. “You say your son lived here?” he asked.
Debbie felt the officers confusion, and grimaced at her own embarrassment, “Yes,” she said.
“How old is your son?” he asked.
Debbie swallowed. “Eighteen. Nineteen. He just had a birthday.”
“And he lived here alone?” Harris asked. Debbie nodded. “And the name’s Grayson you said?” Harris said, already pulling a small notebook from his pocket.
“Yes,” she said quickly. “Grayson Miller.”
Harris nodded, then stepped back outside, radio crackling softly as he spoke into it. Debbie stood on the gravel, arms wrapped tight around herself, watching his face for clues.
After a moment he turned back to her. “Ma’am, did he have a vehicle?”
“Yes,” Debbie said. “The truck’s right there.”
“And it’s still here,” Harris said. Not a question.
Debbie’s breath hitched.
“Okay,” Harris continued. “That tells us something. Now, storms like this, people sometimes get taken to the hospital by neighbors, friends, or good samaratins. Doesn’t mean anything bad yet.”
He pulled out his phone. “I’m going to make a call.”
Debbie watched him walk a few steps away, hearing only fragments of the conversation.
“Mud Creek ER… yes, county sheriff… possible storm injury… name Grayson Miller…”
Debbie’s heart hammered so loud she thought she might faint.
Harris came back, expression neutral but intent. “Mam, does your son use the name Grace?”
Debbie grimaced, “Yes, he umm…”
Harris interrupted, “They have a Grace Miller there who matches the description. Head injury. Ankle. Came in about thirty minutes ago.”
Debbie sagged against the porch rail. “Oh thank God.”
“There’s something else,” Harris said carefully. “The patient was brought in by two adults. Not family.”
Debbie’s relief twisted into something sharp and hot. “Who?”
“They didn’t give full names yet,” Harris said. “But the hospital reports her in stable condition, they won’t be sending her out.”
“She?” Debbie repeated, confused, then shook her head hard. “I’m sorry officer. My son is…”
Harris didn’t argue. He just nodded. “You should head over to the hospital..”
Debbie rushed to her car, hands fumbling with the keys.
“Thank you officer!” she said.
“Good luck, Mam. Your child is not in danger. Drive safe to the hospital.”
She didn’t respond. She was already pulling the door open, fury and relief tangled tight in her chest.
As she drove back toward town, her thoughts raced ahead of her.
Who took him?
Why didn’t he call her?
Why doesn’t he answer his phone?
***
“I’m here to see… Grace Miller. I’m his mother,” Debbie said to the exhausted looking man behind a counter in the emergency room.
“Allright, can I get an ID please?” he asked.
A few keystrokes later, “Allright Debbie, we have a Grace Miller here, she’s alert and being evaluated right now. I’ll let them know you’re here.”
Debbie drew herself up and raised her voice, “I’m his mother, I’d like to see him now.”
The man looked at her in silence for a moment, then determined he needed to shut this down. “Listen Ma’am. It’s been a long night, we just life-flighted a patient out, a tree fell on their bedroom. I will let Grace know you are here. Until then please have a seat.”
An ambulance pulled up to the door outside and in moments a gurney was unloaded. Debbie almost argued, but shook her head and quickly made her way to the small waiting room.
***
Grace hesitated, then frowned, “No, I can’t. I can’t see her.
The nurse nodded, “That’s fine. We’ll let her know. For now the doctor wants to do a CT scan of your head to check for anything internal.” The nurse checked the bandages on Grace’s head. “Looks like bleeding is under control. We’ll have you out of here soon.” The nurse started to leave.
Lucy stood up, “Wait, I’ll tell her. She at least deserves to know who we are.”
“Allright, I’ll point her out to you.”
***
Debbie checked her phone again, Nick should be here anytime. She looked up to see a nurse guiding a sleepy looking woman in rumpled sweats in her direction. The woman walked up and stopped in front of her.
“Hello, Debbie?” Lucy asked and quickly slid into the open seat beside her.
Debbie turned to face her, “Yes, and you are?”
“I’m Lucy Whitlock. My husband and I brought Grace to the hospital. She’s OK. She had a nasty cut on her forehead, but it probably looks worse than it is.”
Debbie didn’t look relieved, “Thank you, but why are you telling me this? Did they tell Grayson I want to see him? Who are you anyway?”
Lucy’s thoughts spiraled, Your son thinks he’s a girl, he sure as hell looks and acts like one. My fucking husband is the same damn way. Somehow they’re friends. Fucking crazy I know. She doesn’t want to see you, don’t blame her. You seem like a bitch. I guess I’m here because for some reason I care about this kid, and my dumbass husband, or wife. What the fuck.
Lucy bit her tongue. “I’m… We’re friends.”
Debbie lowered her eyebrows, “How are you friends with Grayson?”
Lucy explained, “Grace is taking my husband’s painting class at college. She’s really very talented. They’ve talked about where she lives for her paintings. So we knew she lived in a small trailer out by herself. When she didn’t answer we drove out there to check on her,”
Debbie nodded, “Thank you. You may have saved his life. I guess Grayson doesn’t want to see me.”
Lucy nodded, “I’m sorry, but they… she doesn’t want to see you.”
Debbie nodded, “I suppose you and your husband are supportive of my son’s situation?”
“Ma’m I really barely know Grace, but she showed me kindness and we’re supportive of her.”
Debbie looked down at her hands and then took a deep breath. “Lucy, I raised a son, in the way that the Bible commands us. I taught him, I prayed over him. He was created perfect and I will not pretend that this path the devil sent him on is good for him.”
Lucy felt the urge to tell this sanctimonious woman off, but pushed it aside. “Okay, don’t.”
Debbie spread her hands palm up, “Don’t you see, by going along with his delusions you’re feeding into it.”
Lucy chose her words carefully, “Look I’m not trying to get between you and Grace. I’m here because she was hurt, and she needed help.”
Debbie frowned and nodded, “I’ve seen the trailer. He’s going to need a place to go.”
A tall bearded man walked into the waiting room with a blond woman who looked way younger than him. Eyes focused on Debbie, he made his way over . “Hey, what’s going on?”
“Hi Nick. Hello Bella. The storm knocked your trailer off its foundation with Grayson in it. There was a lot of blood, but they won’t let me go back and check on him. He sent her out to tell me he’s OK,” Debbie pointed towards Lucy.
Nick turned to face her and then froze. Lucy was staring down at her feet. “Why are you here?” he asked.
“Do you know this woman?” Bella asked.
Nick’s expression quickly changed, “No, no, just trying to figure this out. You know Grace?” he asked.
“Your ex-wife can fill you in, I’m going back to check on her,” Lucy said and spun on her heel making a beeline for the patient rooms where the nurse buzzed her in.