Still, Cristian climbed in with a respectful silence, as if it was the best seat in the house.
I drove at a snail’s pace, just around the hospital driveway and the nearly empty visitor lot. Noor giggled when I turned the steering wheel and radioed dispatch with my location (I didn’t mention I had a very special passenger). She kept asking questions: “Do you catch bad guys? Do you have a dog partner? Can I turn on the lights?”
I glanced at him in the rearview mirror. “She’s a fighter,” I said, answering carefully. “She’s had some rough treatments, from what I hear. But she’s doing a little better today.”
Noor nodded proudly, as if she were determined to prove it. “I’m strong,” she declared. “Strong like Mama. Strong like Papa used to be.” The last part she said more quietly, peeking back at him.
Cristian reached a hand toward the mesh divider. He couldn’t quite touch Noor, but he rested his palm on the metal. “I want to make things right,” he said, voice tight with emotion.
It struck me then that sometimes we don’t get second chances in life, and sometimes we do. Here he was, trying to patch up a big hole in his family. And the kid, so openhearted, was ready to forgive. I hoped for their sake it could work out.We pulled up to the entrance again after a couple of slow loops. Noor’s cheeks were flushed with excitement. She didn’t want to unbuckle. “Can we go again?” she asked.
I looked at the clock on the dashboard. I was definitely racking up overtime at this point, and I had no idea what my captain would say if he found out. But one look at those big brown eyes, and I caved.
“Just one more,” I said.
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