Grayson lowered his gaze. A little girl stood in front of him, bundled in a faded purple coat that looked like it had once belonged to someone larger, sleeves rolled nearly to her elbows. She had freckles dusted across her cheeks like snowflakes that never melted, tangled auburn hair spilling from beneath a knit hat, and large brown eyes that shimmered with panic.
He crouched despite the wet concrete threatening to ruin his expensive trousers. “What is it? Are you alright?”
She sniffled, hugging a lopsided backpack shaped like a star. “My mom is at home, and she fell. I tried to wake her up, but she wouldn’t move. I called her name a lot. I got scared, so I came out to find somebody who could help. People just walked by me. I kept hoping someone would stop.”
The words struck him as sharply as a blow. His heartbeat lurched.
“Tell me your name,” he said gently.
“I’m Talia Summers,” she murmured. “My mom is Renee.”
“My name is Grayson,” he replied. “Can you show me where you live? We will make sure your mom gets help right away.”