SENTIENT

Avuncular

a·vun·cu·lar /əˈvʌŋ.kjə.lər/ adjective: the relationship between men and their siblings children.

The main entrance of St. Angelo Hospital was teeming with reporters, looking for an update on the boy who witnessed his father's murder. This means AJ and Connor had to find the side entrance to avoid them.

Connor slowed down his steps as they walked through the parking lot. He said, "Detective, we don't have to speak to the witness now. We can come back in a few hours when he's awake."

AJ stopped to face her partner, "Why?"

"Detective Whitley, I recognize a significant decrease in your breathing rate as well as oxygen levels in your brain," said Connor.

"With the distance from Jimmy's Bar to your motel, Memorial Inn, I can calculate that you probably got about 2 hours and 23 minutes of sleep this morning. Are you sure you don't need the rest of the day off?"

She just needs a cup of coffee, that's all – she thought. She's fine, even though her eyelids felt heavier by the minute. It was the attention that she appreciated.

She said, "We'll just see how this goes and then maybe, we'll get coffee, alright?"

He let her lead the way once again, but deep down, he was starting to worry that her confrontation with Adrian Gates might have affected her more than she expected.

AJ leaned her head against the wall of the empty hospital corridor; next to the door where little Denis Potoski was admitted for an overnight stay. It was 5:23 AM, Denis will be examined again in a few hours to see if his condition has improved, but for now, he needs as much rest as his strong little body can regain.

She was just thinking of the boy this entire time, "Connor, what are the statistics of children not talking at all after trauma?"

No answer. AJ glanced to her left. Connor was just standing next to her a second ago. She searched, "Connor?"

He appeared out of her blind corner with a can of vending machine coffee for her. Hydroponic coffee – she wondered how he knew.

"Oh," she smiled. "Thank you."

"Traumatic mutism makes up 48,6% of behavior changes that occurs in children who experience trauma. It's highly treatable," he paused. "With intensive treatments programs that follow specialized behavior therapy and speech prompt techniques."

"Well, we don't have time for that, do we?" AJ shrugged, sipping her hydroponic canned coffee. "Denis Potoski is the only link we have to a description of the suspect."

Denis Potoski's biological mother, Renee Arnett, clutched onto her knitted cardigan as she stepped out of the patient's unit into the hallway. She shut the door behind her, looking back at her son who was asleep – not peacefully as he usually does.

She hasn't slept, or drink, or eat, meanwhile the adrenaline from driving to pick up her baby boy from the police station is now starting to wear her out.

"My name's AJ and this is Connor. Detroit PD," AJ flashed her badge.

Renee sniffled and sobbed, "The doctors can't be sure how long until Denis talks again. They said if I tried to get him talk it might trigger him and make him worst."

The thirty years old florist and shop owner kept looking down, but there was no way of hiding those dark and damp under eyes.

Reassurance was what Renee needed, AJ thought. The detective is now caressing the back of Renee's shoulder, "The trauma that Denis just experienced is quite complex, but you got a strong boy and you are taking a really good care of him."