6. The Place They Kept Her Hidden
We left Melissa behind, surrounded by guards and outraged mourners. I jumped into my truck; Rosa slid in beside me. I drove like a man with fire in his veins.
The location Melissa had mentioned was a shabby private facility on the edge of Phoenix—a place people whispered about but pretended didn’t exist. Not technically illegal… but absolutely not somewhere you’d ever send someone you loved.
When we arrived, I didn’t bother with formalities. I slammed the truck into the gate, metal shrieking as it crumpled inward.
Inside, nurses shouted, trying to block our path. I pushed through them.
“Where is she?!” I roared.
A terrified nurse pointed down a dim hallway.
“Room six… just—just don’t hurt anyone!”
We ran.
I kicked the door open.
The room was cold and shadowed, smelling faintly of disinfectant. On a narrow bed lay my mother—pale, thin, hooked to an IV.
“Mama…”
I rushed to her side. Her eyelids flickered.
She was alive.
Breathing.
Delicate, but alive.
Her hand lifted faintly toward my cheek.
“I knew… you’d come,” she whispered.
My chest split open.
I cried the way I hadn’t since boyhood.
Rosa stood in the doorway, tears streaming.
“Mrs. Parker,” she whispered, “I told you he’d come.”
We carried my mother out—Rosa supporting her as if she were made of glass. As we reached the truck, police cruisers swarmed the entrance.
Justice had finally arrived.
