Then he saw Maya standing near the doorway. "Mom!"
For the first time since she had returned to the hospital, Maya's composure weakened. She crossed the room quickly and stopped beside the bed. Her hand went to Isaiah's shoulder, then to the side of his face, as if she needed physical proof that he was really there.
"I'm here."
Isaiah looked past her toward the hallway where state investigators and hospital staff were moving through the corridor. "What happened out there?"
"We'll talk about that later. How are you breathing?"
"Better."
"Better isn't the same as good."
Dr. Caldwell answered for him. "His oxygen level is improving and the bronchospasm is responding to treatment. I want to keep watching him, but right now he's moving in the right direction."
Maya nodded. "Thank you, Doctor."
Isaiah studied her face. "Why are there state people outside?"
Before Maya could respond, Paul Reeves appeared at the doorway. "Maya."
She turned; his expression was gentle but firm. "We need a formal statement from Isaiah before everybody starts comparing stories."
"I know."
"And you can't take it."
Maya's eyes moved back to her son.
Paul continued, "You're his mother, and you were directly involved in what happened at the front desk. If you question him yourself, Harland's attorney will say you shaped his account."
Isaiah frowned. "Who is Harland's attorney?"
Maya ignored the question for the moment. "I'm not going to shape anything."
"I know that," Paul said. "The issue is whether someone can argue that you did."
That was enough. Maya slowly removed her hand from Isaiah's shoulder and stepped back. "You're right."
Isaiah looked between them. "Can someone please tell me what's going on?"
Maya pulled a chair closer to the bed, but did not sit in the position Paul would use for the interview. "You answer his questions exactly the way you remember things. If you don't know something, say you don't know. If you're not sure, say you're not sure."
Isaiah gave her a tired look. "That sounds very official."
Maya held his eyes for a moment. "Tonight needs to be."
Paul sat down on the opposite side of the bed and activated a state-issued recorder after obtaining Isaiah's consent. He started simply.
"Do you know why the officers stopped you?"
"They said my backpack might be connected to stolen property."
"Did they tell you what property?"
"No."