I ran from the parking lot toward reception with the plastic bag clenched in my hand.
A receptionist in blue scrubs looked up.
“I’m trying to find my mother.”
I pulled one of the missing-person flyers from my bag.
Her photograph was worn from being folded and unfolded so many times.
“Her name is Evelyn Mercer. She disappeared four months ago.”
The receptionist looked at the photograph.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t provide patient information.”
“Please.”
I held up the ring.
“She was wearing this when she disappeared. Last night,
