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He listened. The pen in his hand snapped. “Say that again. Which hospital? I’m on my way.”
Gerald rushed to Richmond General, Room 412. There, lying in a bed with an IV drip, was his younger brother, Eddie.
Eddie Whitmore was fifty-four. He had served two tours overseas and had come back a broken machine. PTSD had led to alcohol, which led to a slow, agonizing slide into the streets. Two years ago, Gerald had tried to force Eddie into a private clinic.
Eddie had looked his powerful brother in the eye and said, “I’m not a case for you to manage, Gerald,” and vanished into the shadows of the city. Gerald had spent thousands on private investigators, but Eddie knew how to stay hidden.
Now, Eddie was back. Dehydrated, malnourished, but lucid.
“Before you say it,” Eddie whispered as Gerald entered, “I didn’t call you.”
“I know,” Gerald said, sitting by the bed. “The paramedics found your veteran’s card. But Eddie… how did you survive the night? The temperature dropped to twenty degrees.”
Eddie looked at the ceiling. “A little girl found me. At a bus stop on Garrison.”
Gerald leaned in. “A girl?”
“She sat down next to me. She didn’t look away. She gave me her lunch, Gerald. A peanut butter sandwich. She gave me the bigger half and told me I looked hungrier than her. I was ready to let go last night. I was ready to just stop breathing. But that kid… she made me feel like a person again. I couldn’t die after that. It would have been rude.”
Gerald’s jaw tightened. He pulled out his phone and called Lieutenant Brenda Holloway, his community liaison.
“Brenda, I need security footage. Bus stop on Garrison Street. 7:15 AM yesterday. There’s a camera on the market across the street. Find it. Now.”
Forty minutes later, the video arrived on Gerald’s tablet. He and Eddie watched it together in the sterile hospital room. They watched Mila Scott give away her only meal. They watched her eat her tiny crust and board the bus.
“Kindness without an audience,” Gerald whispered. “That’s the only kind that counts.”
“Find her, Gerald,” Eddie said. “Don’t ‘manage’ her. Just find her.”
Part IV: The 7:00 AM Formation