It sucked that when they were helping her fill out paperwork, she didn’t even know who to put as her next-of-kin contact. Gabe finally filled in Ed Payne’s name and cell number. Betsy knew he’d already been called and would help with the legal end of things, but right now, those were details she couldn’t even begin to process. While the doctor examined Betsy and asked her questions, she tried not to fuzz out, to drift away and tune out the world, the pain. The shame. A couple of times, Gabe had to gently touch her arm to bring her focus back to them. “I think you’re right that she has a concussion,” the doctor said. “We’ll get her into radiology immediately.” “I can’t afford it,” Betsy tried to protest. “Doesn’t matter,” Gabe said. “It’s getting done.” “Agent Villalobos, how did you say you were involved in this situation?”
