That night, long after the ward had gone quiet, Maya sat alone in the break room, phone in hand. Her thumb hovered over the number the shelter had provided. She took a deep breath and dialed. If nothing else, she could speak to the last link who might know something.
When Claire finally answered, her voice trembled with age and emotion. “You have him?” she asked, almost in disbelief. “Our Milo?” Maya smiled softly. “Yes, ma’am. He’s with a little girl here at the hospital. He’s been incredible.”