16
I walked into the lobby of Camelback Children’s Hospital in full Bail Enforcement gear minus my weapons. The last thing we needed was to turn this place into a shooting gallery. I could only hope Pratt was similarly unarmed.
Brightly colored murals of flowers and happy children decorated the walls. Christmas lights and greenery hung from the front of the information desk, with a miniature Christmas tree, a menorah, and a Kwanzaa kinara on the counter between the two workstations. Everything about the decor conveyed a sense of hope and holiday cheer. And yet for all the bright colors and happy images, there was no denying the dark truth—children here faced the unimaginable horrors of cancer and other brutal diseases.
Caden walked up and acknowledged me with a nod. He was also decked o
