Next of Kin [antikvár]

ONE My phone rings, flashing a number that immediately sends a chill down my spine. I follow my instincts, ditching my cart and spot in the checkout line to find quiet in the grocery store's bathroom, which, thankfully, is empty. 'Hello, this is Chloe.' My voice is already shaking. 'Hi, Chloe, this is Rachel Feroux calling from Child Protective Services. Is this a good time to talk?' I close the toilet stall and lock it behind me as an all-too-familiar feeling of dread creeps into my chest. I paw at my collarbone with my free hand. A nervous rash is most likely already spreading. 'Sure.' Connie it has to be Connie. She's hurt, or worse. Why else would CPS call? I haven't heard from a social worker in more than six years. 'Okay, great.' Rachel clears her throat, then seems to brace herself with a loud inhale. 'In your file, it states that you're open to your birth mother contacting you. Is that still accurate?' Do I want to know? 'Yes ' 'It is sort of an unusual call, I suppose. Your mother sorry, Constance. Constance has put in an urgent request that you visit her. She's at the hospital.' II