What would you do if a nine-year-old boy in duct-taped boots claimed he could cure your child? And he was right. It was cold that morning in Birmingham, Alabama.

Not snowy enough, but the kind that left your breath raw and your fingertips itchy.

People bustled in and out of Seventh Avenue Children’s Medical Center, bundled up in scarves, coffee cups in hand, moving quickly as if they could outrun whatever brought them there.

But one person wasn’t moving. He sat in a flattened cardboard box near the revolving doors, silently sketching in a weather-worn notebook.

His name was Ezekiel Zeke Carter, and he was only nine years old. He wore his coat a size too big, his sleeves rolled up, and one of his boots had duct tape on the toe. A red knitted hat fell low over his forehead, barely covering his ears.

He didn’t beg or ask for help. He just sat there, watching people come and go. He was there almost every Saturday.

Some hospital staff members tried to get him fired when he first appeared, but after a while, they gave up. Zeke didn’t cause any trouble. He smiled when people spoke to him.

And when he wasn’t drawing in his notebook, he was watching. Always watching. Most people thought he had a father inside him.

Maybe a sick brother. Maybe he was just waiting for a ride. No one asked too many questions.

Not in a place like this. Across the street, parked next to a fire hydrant, a dark silver Range Rover was idling. The engine was still running, but the driver didn’t move.

Inside sat Jonathan Reeves, a man in his fifties with a pronounced jaw and graying temples. His tie was loose and his collar was wrinkled.

He had money. It showed in the shine of his car, even under the hospital’s fluorescent lights. But he looked like a man who was running out of gas.

In the back seat, a booster seat held her daughter, Isla. She was six years old, with brown curls tucked behind one ear and her legs tucked into a pink blanket. Her eyes were wide open, but she didn’t say a word.

The accident changed everything. One moment she was climbing trees and competing with her cousins in the backyard. The next, she was paralyzed from the waist down, sitting silently.

Jonathan opened the back door, carefully lifted her up, and carried her toward the entrance. At first, he didn’t see Zeke. Most people didn’t.

But Zeke noticed. He saw Jonathan holding her as if she were about to fall apart. The way his eyes were fixed on the sky, avoiding the building.