Criminal

he said it.”
    “That sounds like something fun to try.”
    Will felt the string go taut. He kissed her. Sara’s lips were soft. They tasted like peppermint from the lip balm she used. Her fingernails scratched into his hair. He leaned in closer. And then everything stopped when the front door to the building banged open. Abel Conford gave them a scowl as he stomped toward his Mercedes.
    Will had to clear his throat before he could ask Sara, “Are you sure you don’t want some time to yourself?”
    She adjusted the knot in his tie. “I want to go for a walk with you, and then I want to eat an entire pizza with you, and then I want to spend the rest of the night with you.”
    Will looked down at his watch. “I think I can fit that in.”
    Sara slid out of the car and locked the door. Will tucked the key fob into his pocket. The plastic hit the familiar cold metal of his wedding ring. Will had taken off the ring two weeks ago, but for reasons he couldn’t begin to decipher, that was as far as he’d gotten.
    Sara took his hand as they walked down the sidewalk. Atlanta was at its most spectacular in late March, and today was no exception. A light breeze cooled the air. Every yard was packed with flowers. The oppressive heat of the summer months seemed like an old wives’ tale. The sun cut through the swaying trees, lighting up Sara’s face. Her tears had dried, but Will could see that she was still troubled about what had happened at the hospital.
    He asked, “Sure you’re okay?”
    Instead of answering, Sara wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She was a few inches shorter than Will, which meant she fit like a puzzle piece under his arm. He felt her hand slip up under his suit jacket. She hooked her thumb over the top of his belt, just shy of his Glock. They passed the usual foot traffic in the neighborhood—joggers, occasional couples, men pushing baby strollers. Women walking dogs. Most of them were on their cell phones, even the runners.
    Sara finally spoke. “I lied to you.”
    He glanced down at her. “About what?”
    “I didn’t pull an extra shift at the hospital. I stayed around because …” Her voice trailed off. She looked out into the street. “Because no one else was there.”
    Will didn’t know what else to say but, “Okay.”
    Her shoulders went up as she took a deep breath. “An eight-year-old boy was brought in around lunchtime.” Sara was the pediatric attending in Grady’s ER. She saw a lot of kids in bad shape. “He OD’d on his grandmother’s blood pressure meds. He took half her ninety-day supply. It was hopeless.”
    Will kept silent, giving her time.
    “His heart rate was less than forty when they brought him in. We lavaged him. We ran through the glucagon. Maxed out on dopamine, epinephrine.” Her voice got softer with each word. “There was nothing else I could do. I called the cardiologist to put in a pacemaker, but …” Sara shook her head again. “We had to let him go. We ended up shipping him to the ICU.”
    Will saw a black Monte Carlo coasting down the street. The windows were down. Rap music shook the air.
    Sara said, “I couldn’t leave him alone.”
    His attention moved away from the car. “Weren’t the nurses there?”
    “The ward was already packed.” Again, she shook her head. “His grandmother wouldn’t come to the hospital. Mom’s in jail. Dad’s unknown. No other relatives. He wasn’t conscious. He didn’t even know I was there.” She paused a moment. “It took him four hours to die. His hands were already cold when we moved him upstairs.” She stared down at the sidewalk. “Jacob. His name was Jacob.”
    Will chewed at the inside of his mouth. He’d been in and out of Grady as a kid. The hospital was the only publicly funded facility left in Atlanta.
    He said, “Jacob was lucky to have you.”
    She tightened her grip around him. Her gaze was still lowered, as if the cracks in the sidewalk needed further study.
    They walked on, both silent. Will felt a weight of expectancy. He knew that Sara was thinking about Will’s childhood, the fact that his own life could’ve ended the same way Jacob’s had. Will should at least acknowledge this, remind her that the system had done better by him than most. But he couldn’t find the words.
    “Hey.” Sara tugged at the back of Will’s shirt. “We should probably turn around.”
    She was right. The foot traffic had thinned out. They were nearing Boulevard, which wasn’t the best