hospital.
A man who looked sick.
A man who had disappeared.
She lay against the white pillow staring at the ceiling while machines beeped beside her.
Her body felt weak, but her mind would not stop moving.
“Daddy,” she said softly.
Reginald Whitmore looked up from his phone.
He was standing near the window in a navy suit, his jaw tight, his face serious like even sickness had interrupted his schedule.
“Yes, princess.
” “The man who brought me here,” Janelle said.
“Did anyone find him?” Her mother, Denise, shifted in
