My granddaughter called me from the hospital at 3:17 in the morning, and before I even reached the ER, I already knew this was the night everything in our family would finally come into the open.

“She’s in bay four. I moved the parents to the family waiting area forty minutes ago and told them the evaluation was ongoing. The fracture pattern on the radius is not consistent with a stair fall.” He paused. “Forced hyperextension. I’ve seen it before.”

“So have I.”

The fluorescent lights made everything appear a little harsher than it was. James had been up all night, but there was no fog in his face, only decision.

“I need the report filed,” I said. “Complete. Exact. Every inconsistency documented. Include the discrepancy between stated mechanism and injury pattern. Do not wait for anyone’s comfort.”

He nodded. “It’s drafted. I was waiting to confirm she had someone.”

“She does.”

He turned toward his office. I turned toward bay four.

The curtain was half drawn. I pushed it aside and stepped into the room as carefully as though entering a recovery unit where the wrong voice could spike blood pressure.