"And what's the young lady's name?" the officer asked. Malcolm reached into his coat pocket  and pulled out the crumpled sheet from the doctor, smoothing it out against his knee and handing it over. The officer examined it. "No last name?"

"No, she wouldn't give one," Malcolm said. "But I figure there can't be too many around here with that spellin'."

"I'll give it a look," the officer said, opening up a filing cabinet. He rifled through it, once in a while licking his thumb. Malcolm wasn't the only one in the station. Not only did the rest of the band allow themselves a tour of the joint led by an officer Bon was acquainted with (a friend of a friend, he swears), but another man sat in a metal chair across the room, handcuffs on his wrist. A man in a suit and tie sat next to him. 

"Just keep your mouth shut," he whispered. "The more you talk they more they have to hold over you."

"But I didn't do it!" the cuffed man insisted. "Someone stole the bike before giving it to me, I know it." Malcolm listened at the mention of a bike. "Piece of faulty rubbish anyway, fucking crashed the damn thing. Lucky I'm still in one piece!" Malcolm almost asked but decided against it. The totaled bicycle in the garbage may have belonged to this man and not Stevi at all. "These blokes have me cuffed like a common criminal."

"Well, I'm sorry, Mr. Young," the officer said, slamming the drawer closed. "I've checked through every record we have and there's no one named Stevi."

"That only means there's no police record on her, right?" Malcolm asked. "She hasn't been charged for anything?"

"No birth records either," the officer explained. "No certificate copy, no license information, no address, no proof of citizenship." Malcolm took back the crumpled sheet.

"So...that means she's..."

"A runaway, I'd guess," the officer said. "Probably not born in this city or even this country. Did the young lady have a passport on her?"

"I didn't see one," Malcolm thought. "She didn't even have a suitcase."

"Can't get far without a passport," the officer said. "My guess is she's not from this city and ran away. In a hurry too, it looks like."

"What about the bike then, hm?" Malcolm asked, sparing a glance at the man in handcuffs. "Was that hers?"

"Has she mentioned anything about a bike?" the officer asked. The man in cuffs started paying attention. 

"No, sir, she can't speak," Malcolm said. "We're waitin' till she's ready, ya' know."

"Well, this young gentleman over here also had a run-in with a bicycle, if you'll pardon the expression." The cuffed man snorted and rolled his eyes. "Perhaps that's the bike in question."

"Was the wheel missing?" the man asked. "All dented? Red in color?"

"Yeah," Malcolm said, relieved to be getting some answers. "Yeah it was."

"That was mine," the man confirmed. "Bloody fucking wheel popped off while I was riding it." Malcolm nodded, anxious for the guys to get back. He could hear their voices down the hall, getting closer.

"Well, that's that, then," the officer smiled. "Case closed."

"Listen, man," the man in cuffs said, a bead of sweat on his forehead. "Can you loosen these up a bit? I ain't going anywhere."

The officer smiled. "Sure thing, mate." He took a set of jangling keys off his belt and unlocked the handcuffs. The man rubbed his wrists. "Better?"

"Thanks," he mumbled. The man in the suit looked suspiciously back and forth between Malcolm and his comrade. "Hey, listen." Malcolm turned his body in his chair so he faced them. "That girl you're talking about. Blue dress, right?"

"You know her?" Malcolm asked. 

"Only by sight. Crashed the bike and happened to see a woman in a dress hurrying across the street. Thought she was after me so I took off."

"If you hadn't stolen the bike, why did you run?" the officer teased. "Wouldn't you assume the woman had been trying to help you?" Suit and tie warned his client with one steely look. 

"Not important," the bicycle man said. "Adrenaline rush, spooked, you name it. I panicked."

"Ya' see anythin' after that?" Malcolm asked. "While she was runnin'?"

"Nope, never looked behind me. Never saw her again." The band returned talking about some program they'd seen on television about a couple prison inmates. 

"Should have dug a hole behind the toilet," Mark said while Angus laughed. "They'd never know! Jus' push it back in place if the cops are comin'."

"Shouldn't have been in jail in the first place," a second officer said, woolly hair sticking out from under his hat. "Saw the show too. Treated those guys too rough."

"But now if Mark ever gets time ya' know what he's plannin' to do," Phil grinned. "I'd watch this guy if I were you." Mark elbowed Phil in the ribs.

"Any luck, Mal?" Angus asked. Malcolm shoved the sheet of paper in his pocket. 

"Might have run away from home or somethin'," Malcolm said. "Looks a little old for runnin' away...but the bike wasn't hers."

"I saw her on the street," the bicycle man said. "Was just telling this guy." He nodded at Malcolm. 

"Well it's been nice seeing you again, Bon," the second officer said in his deep voice. "How's the wife doing?"

"Much better now that we've divorced," Bon smiled. The officer's face fell.

"I'm real sorry to hear that," he said. "Thought you'd finally settled down, too."

"We're still good friends, like," Bon said. "Ya' know me, Dan, I don't like makin' enemies." Dan patted Bon on the back. 

"Good seeing you, son. Come back anytime."

"Thanks for the tour," Bon said. "You've really set us on the straight an' narrow." With a laugh and a hug, Dan left the group and went back to work. "Alright, who's up for a drink?"

**********

"Ya' look better today," Malcolm commented. "Ya' look healthy." After a few steady days on the feeding tube, Stevi had now graduated to solid food. Her cheeks were fuller and her skin glowed. "They could let ya' out soon, ya' know."

Angus sat on Brian's now empty bed, keeping his distance. Stevi seemed more interested in Malcolm anyway and he didn't want to disturb them. Malcolm had the curtain pulled all the way open since she was now the only patient in the room. Phil wanted to see if he could snag any good food from the cafeteria and smuggle it up to Stevi. Bon and Mark were off on a holiday, visiting Mark's parents. 

Stevi took Malcolm's hand and squeezed it, looking at him with pleading blue eyes. Malcolm frowned. "What, ya' don't want to leave?"

"Wonderful seeing you both here," the doctor said, coming into the room. He handed Angus another sheet of paper. "She's given us more answers. Progress!"

"What's it say?" Malcolm asked from beside Stevi's bed. 

"Says she was in a foster home," Angus said. "She's only eighteen."

"Eighteen?" Malcolm looked up and down at the young woman. "Pardon me, love, I thought you were older!" Stevi shook her head. "Anythin' else?"

"Has family down in Adelaide," Angus read. "Were you tryin' to reach them?" She nodded with guilt.

"Hey, don't worry about it," Malcolm said. "Just a bit dangerous to go all that way on foot, ya' know?" His friendly smile made all the difference.

"So the foster care let you go once you turned eighteen an' ya' hurried away to see your family," Angus clarified. "Alright, it's somethin'."

"That's excellent, my dear, thank you for sharing," the doctor said. Malcolm could tell the smile didn't reach his eyes.

**********

"What's goin' on?" The doctor brought Malcolm into the hallway and closed the door, keeping Angus and Stevi inside. With a grave expression, the doctor sighed. 

"Something tells me this foster care was anything but caring," he muttered.

"Why do ya' say that?" Malcolm asked. 

"Why do I say that? Nobody is that sick when they're well fed," the doctor said. "Unless she has some terminal illness I missed during her physical or she's doing it herself-"

"Ya' think they starved her or somethin'?" Malcolm couldn't bear the implications. 

"At the very least, yes," the doctor said. "Hard to know if there was any other abuse seeing as there's no marks and she won't talk. I want to ask. I don't think she'll answer me but we need to know so we can move forward with this."

Malcolm nodded. "She's respondin' to the food well, ain't she?"

"Very well," the doctor said. "She looks better and better every day. I'd say in a week she'll be back to normal and discharged." Malcolm couldn't agree about the 'normal' part. How could one go through what she had been through and not have lasting issues? What was 'normal' anyway?

"Where's she gonna stay?" Malcolm asked, crossing his arms. "She can't jus' head out again to Adelaide by herself."

"I think she'll do exactly as she wants, Mr. Young," the doctor said. "She's young, yes, but still an adult. It's not up to us to decide what to do with her."

"But-but she's on crutches!" Malcolm cried. "Walkin' all that way is bad enough!"

"I know," sighed the doctor. "Maybe she could get a lift from a kind stranger but even that poses risks."

"Do ya' know what happened to her legs?" Malcolm was afraid of the answer. "Heard someone say they saw her runnin' down the street..."

"From my examinations she can walk short distances by herself," the doctor explained. "It's the long ones that land her lying on the street where you found her." The doctor looked through the rectangular window on the door. "I suspect she was born this way."

Knowing someone hadn't done this to her was encouraging but not enough. The whole situation was too messed up for anyone to be involved in, let alone someone so young. "Maybe the foster care has records on her."

"Most likely, unless they burned them when she left," the doctor agreed. "And if what I believe is true, they ought to be investigated by police and possibly shut down." The doctor took a deep breath, letting the anger pass. The venom in his words was gone. "Probably not the only one mistreated there. Could be a whole batch of kids going through the same thing, maybe worse, and can't leave." Malcolm felt beside himself with helplessness.

"So what do we do?" he asked. The doctor put his hand on Malcolm's shoulder. 

"Just be her friend for now."