Part 2
Bear’s hind legs gave out before the paramedic reached the ambulance. He tried to rise again, dragging one injured paw beneath his chest, but his body had spent everything it had on the road.
Nora knelt beside him while the baby’s stretcher rolled away.
“He needs oxygen too,” she said.
The paramedic looked toward the departing ambulance. “We don’t transport animals.”
“Then find someone who does.”
Bear’s eyes remained fixed on the rear doors until they closed around the child. When the ambulance pulled away, he released a low sound that Nora felt more than heard.
A state trooper stripped the blanket from the back seat of his cruiser and helped lift Bear inside. The dog resisted until Nora climbed into the open doorway and let him smell the blue fleece caught beneath her arm.
“She’s going to the hospital,” Nora said. “You’re going somewhere safe too.”
Bear stopped fighting.
The nearest emergency veterinary clinic was twenty-three miles away. The trooper agreed to take him while Nora followed the ambulance to Briar County Medical Center.
By the time Nora reached the emergency department, her scrub pants were soaked beneath the knees, and soot covered both palms. Her husband, Cal, was waiting beside the security desk. He had come straight from home, wearing jeans, work boots, and the navy sweatshirt he slept in when the weather turned cold.
He looked at Nora’s empty arms before he looked at her face.
“The baby?”
“Alive.”
Cal closed his eyes briefly. “And the dog?”
“Alive too. For now.”
Nora worked at the same hospital, but because she had found the child, another medical team handled the case. She sat in a consultation room while her coworkers moved beyond the glass doors.
The baby had been identified as Lucy Hale, five months old. Firefighters had rescued her parents, Travis and Kendra Hale, through a bedroom window. Kendra had severe smoke inhalation and remained unconscious. Travis was awake, combative, and demanding to leave.
Lucy had no burns. Her lungs sounded better than Nora had feared, and her temperature began to rise beneath the warming unit. Those were the encouraging facts.
The others came more slowly.
Lucy weighed less than she should have. She had a severe untreated diaper rash, a respiratory infection that had likely been present for days, and signs of prolonged dehydration. Her fingernails were dirty. The bottle found in the house contained formula mixed far thinner than the instructions recommended.
Dr. Hannah Price found Nora in the consultation room shortly after 2:00 a.m.
“The smoke exposure is mild,” she said. “The cold may have been more dangerous, but the dog kept most of the rain off her.”
“So she’ll be all right?”
“I think so.”
Nora heard the hesitation.
“What aren’t you saying?”
Dr. Price sat across from her. “The fire did not create the condition this child arrived in.”
From the hallway came the sound of a man shouting.
“That animal grabbed my kid!”
The voice belonged to Travis Hale. Two deputies stood outside his treatment room while he argued with a nurse.
“He’s vicious,” Travis yelled. “I reported him before. He should’ve been put down months ago.”
Nora rose before Cal caught her wrist.
“Don’t,” he said.
“He carried Lucy half a mile.”
“And you know that. The deputies know it. Going in there won’t help her.”
Nora remained standing until Travis’s voice disappeared behind a closing door.
At 3:15 a.m., Dana Cole from Briar County Child Protective Services arrived carrying a laptop and an overfilled leather bag. Nora knew her from previous hospital cases. Dana was small, silver-haired, and rarely raised her voice, which often made people listen more carefully.
“Lucy will be placed in emergency protective custody,” Dana said. “No relatives have been cleared yet.”
Nora nodded. She understood the process. She and Cal had maintained an active foster-care license even after their last placement, a six-year-old boy named Eli, returned to his father. The small bedroom at the end of their hall had remained ready, though neither of them had discussed taking another child.
Nora looked at Cal. He knew what she was thinking.
“Not tonight,” he said gently. “Tonight she needs doctors.”
Dana opened a file on her computer.
“This family has been reported before,” she said.
“How many times?”
“One call six weeks ago. A home-health nurse came after Lucy missed two pediatric appointments. No one answered the door, and the family refused later visits. There wasn’t enough information for an emergency removal.”
Dana scrolled through the case notes. Near the bottom of the report, she stopped.
“What?”
“The nurse wrote an observation before she left.” Dana turned the screen toward Nora. The final line read: A very large white dog remained against the nursery door and would not move away from the infant’s crib…
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