At 6:02 a.m., Arthur called again.
“I’m on my way,” he said.
“You don’t have to drive all the way here.”
“Yes,” he said. “I do.”
By 7:30, Maya had been examined.
The staff documented the bruising.
They noted the swelling.
They recorded her statement.
A hospital intake form became the first official piece of paper the Vanguards could not polish away.
Arthur arrived wearing the same clothes he must have thrown on in the dark: charcoal slacks, navy sweater, no tie, overcoat buttoned wrong.
