Free The Kindness of Strangers by Katrina Kittle Page B

wondered if he had somehow brought down this nightmare on his parents. “Is he in serious trouble? Was he selling drugs or something?”
    Kramble coughed. Just then a red-haired woman officer escorted Courtney into the living room. She was dressed normally—in a pink cardigan over a yellow floral-print dress—but her face was red and splotchy with tears. She clasped her hands in front of her as if in prayer.
    “Courtney?” Sarah stood.
    Courtney turned to her, and a wave of relief rolled over Courtney’s face. She stepped toward Sarah as if to hug her, but the woman officer pulled Courtney back by the elbow. That’s when Sarah saw the handcuffs on Courtney’s wrists.
    “Oh, my God. Courtney, what’s going on? What happened?”
    “I . . . I’m under arrest,” Courtney said with a girlish inflection of disbelief.
    “ What? For what?”
    The woman officer steered Courtney toward the kitchen.
    “Wait! For God’s sake, you don’t have to cuff her! There must be some mistake. You have the wrong—”
    “Please. Let me talk to her,” Courtney said to the officer. Courtney turned to Sarah, her face anguished. “They’re charging me with child endangerment and”—she paused, turning her wide eyes to Kramble as if trying to remember the words, get it right—“c-complicity with abuse?”
    Sarah’s mouth fell open. All the other noise in the house went mute, as if someone had pressed a remote.
    “There’s a warrant out for Mark’s arrest.” Courtney’s voice climbed higher with her tears. “For abuse and molestation of children and . . . and . . .” Courtney hiccupped a sob.
    Abuse and molestation? Time seemed to slow, as Sarah struggled to translate the words she’d just heard into something she could grab on to or comprehend. They were so absurd her brain dismissed them—this was a case of mistaken identity, they had the wrong people. She felt a sensation of vertigo and feared she might have to sit down, right there on the floor, or she would fall. She took a deep breath and said the only words she knew, the words she believed with all her heart: “Oh, my God. That . . . that isn’t true. You’ve made some kind of mistake. These are nice people, good people.”
    The officers stared back at Sarah, their faces expressionless. Everyone says that, she realized. They expected her to say that. But it was true; she had to convince them.
    Chills prickled across Sarah’s flesh. “Is . . . is this what Jordan says? Is he accusing you?”
    “No.” Courtney sobbed. She tried to put her hands up to her face, but they were cuffed together and awkward. “He hasn’t accused anyone of anything. But they won’t let me talk to him! I haven’t been able to see him since they called me from the ER.”
    “You never got to see him? At all? ” That poor boy was in the hospital and hadn’t even been able to see his mother? “Is Mark with him?”
    “Come on, Dr. Kendrick.” The woman officer began guiding Courtney toward the kitchen again.
    “Wait,” Sarah begged, grabbing Courtney’s other elbow. “But where is Jordan? The hospital said he was released. Is he okay?”
    “Mrs. Laden,” Kramble said, “you really shouldn’t—”
    “They transferred him to Children’s Medical Center last night,” Courtney said. “I’m not allowed to talk to him. He’s there all alone. Please go see him, Sarah. Make sure he’s okay. Tell him I’d be there if I could, but they won’t let me!”
    “Of course. But what happened to him? They think you abused him? I don’t understand!”
    “Oh, my God,” Courtney said. Her lips trembled. “The things that were done to him. Sarah, it’s—” And she burst into sobs again. Jordan flashed into Sarah’s brain, staring up at her from the gravel parking lot, the rain rinsing the vomit off his pale face and diluting the red pulse into a pink wash over his neck. He’d been hurt when Sarah picked him up? She tried to remember what he’d looked like when she first saw