Chapter 2 - THE NAME THAT MADE ME RUN
Table of Contents 6
Jonathan stayed beside Ethan for most of the night.
I remained until almost three in the morning, sitting near the window while nurses came and went. Ethan eventually fell asleep, and once he did, I decided it was finally time to disappear.
I reached the elevator before someone called my name.
Not Jonathan.
A police officer.
"Lily Carter?"
Every muscle in my body tightened.
There were two officers beside a hospital social worker. None of them looked threatening, but experience had taught me that danger rarely introduced itself honestly.
The social worker approached slowly.
"My name is Angela Morris. You're not in trouble."
I stepped backward.
That sentence had never meant anything good.
Jonathan came out of Ethan's room and immediately noticed my face.
"What's happening?"
One officer looked at him. "Are you related to Lily?"
"No."
"Then this is a child welfare matter."
Jonathan could have argued.
Instead, he looked at me.
"What do you want me to do?"
Nobody had asked me that in a long time.
"Stay."
He did.
Angela explained that I had been reported missing three weeks earlier from a foster placement in Queens.
Jonathan looked at me but said nothing.
The officer continued.
"Your foster guardian has been contacted."
My stomach dropped.
"No."
"Lily—"
"No."
I moved toward the stairwell.
One officer stepped sideways but didn't touch me.
Angela raised her hand.
"Nobody is forcing you anywhere right now."
"He's coming here?"
She hesitated.
That was enough.
I turned toward Jonathan.
For the first time since meeting him, I reached for him voluntarily. My fingers closed around his sleeve.
"Please don't let him take me back."
Jonathan's entire expression changed.
"Who?"
I couldn't answer.
The elevator doors opened.
Martin Halpern stepped out.
His wife followed behind him.
Martin looked exactly as he always did when strangers were watching: clean coat, concerned expression, gentle voice.
"Oh, thank God."
He hurried toward me.
I moved behind Jonathan.
Martin stopped.
"Lily, sweetheart, we've been worried sick."
Sweetheart.
He had never called me that inside his house.
Jonathan noticed.
Martin extended a hand.
"Come home."
"No."
His smile tightened.
"You're emotional."
I stared at the floor.
Angela stepped between us.
"Mr. Halpern, Lily has expressed fear about returning to your residence."
He sighed dramatically.
"She's a troubled girl. Running away, lying, stealing food. We've tried everything."
The last two words made me look up.
Stealing food.
At the Halpern house, breakfast was one piece of toast.
Lunch depended on school.
Dinner portions were controlled.
The state paid them to feed us.
Martin called anything extra stealing.
Jonathan spoke quietly.
"Why is she afraid of you?"
Martin finally looked at him properly.
Recognition appeared.
"Mr. Reed?"
Jonathan didn't respond to the recognition.
He repeated the question.
Martin gave a small laugh.
"With respect, this doesn't concern you."
"Then answer the social worker."
Angela looked at me.
"Lily, has Mr. Halpern hurt you?"
My mouth went dry.
I remembered locked cupboards.
Cold showers as punishment.
Martin's hand closing around my arm.
The night he shoved twelve-year-old Noah against the refrigerator because the boy had taken a second sandwich.
Most of all, I remembered Noah looking at me after Martin went upstairs.
You have to get out, Lily.
I had promised I would find help.
Instead, I ran.
"He doesn't hit me much," I whispered.
Silence.
Jonathan's jaw tightened.
Angela's expression changed completely.
"What does that mean?"
I wished I could take the sentence back.
Martin stepped forward.
"She's lying."
I moved closer to Jonathan.
That was when Mrs. Halpern spoke.
"Lily, think carefully about what you're doing. There are other children in our home."
Other children.
My heart stopped.
"Noah."
Mrs. Halpern looked away.
"Where is Noah?"
Martin's voice hardened. "He was transferred."
"When?"
"Last week."
"Where?"
"That's confidential."
I knew immediately he was lying.
Noah and I had made a plan.
If either of us got somewhere safe, we would contact the other.
He had my number written inside one of his shoes.
He would have called.
I turned to Angela.
"Find him."
"We'll check the records."
"No."
My voice cracked.
"Please find him now."
Jonathan took out his phone.
Martin pointed at him.
"You have no legal right to interfere."
Jonathan finally looked directly at him.
"No. But she does have the legal right to be heard."
Then he turned to Angela.
"Tell me what resources your department needs to make sure every child in that house is accounted for tonight."
Angela looked surprised.
"So we're clear, Mr. Reed, you can't purchase your way into this investigation."
Jonathan nodded.
"Good. I don't want to."
That answer surprised me too.
He wasn't trying to become my owner.
He was trying to make sure someone did their job.
Angela made several calls.
The hospital provided me a private room while everything was sorted out. Martin and his wife were told I would not be leaving with them until my allegations were investigated.
He was furious.
Before officers escorted him away, he looked at me.
"You'll regret this."
Jonathan heard him.
So did the police.
For once, a threat wasn't trapped inside a house with nobody listening.
At 5:17 that morning, Angela returned.
She looked shaken.
They had found Noah.
He wasn't in another foster home.
He was in a hospital in Queens under a misspelled surname.
Two broken ribs.
A fractured wrist.
Bruising across his back.
He had been there for six days.
My knees gave out.
Jonathan caught the chair before I hit the floor.
"Is he alive?"
Angela nodded.
"Yes."
I covered my face and cried.
Not because everything was fixed.
It wasn't.
I cried because for three weeks I had believed running away made me a coward.
Now I understood something else.
I had survived.
And because I survived long enough to speak, maybe Noah finally had a chance to survive too.
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