Chương 2
Terrence did not argue.
“Who was the prescriber?”
The pharmacist went quiet again.
“That may be part of the protected record.”
“Then preserve it.”
“And please flag that law enforcement will be sending an emergency request.”
“I’m doing that now.”
Terrence ended the call and sent the request through the department system.
The response would not be instant, and anyone who watched television imagined police databases worked faster than they did.
He hated that gap between knowing something mattered and being legally able to reach it.
The station printer clicked behind him.
A dispatch notice came through at the same time.
MISSING JUVENILES.
FEMALE TWINS, AGE SEVEN.
CHARLOTTE SINCLAIR.
DELILAH SINCLAIR.
REPORTED BY FATHER, DR. DOUGLAS SINCLAIR.
Terrence read the summary twice.
The father stated the children had left home after refusing prescribed medication.
Terrence glanced over his shoulder.
Charlotte was rubbing circles between Delilah’s shoulder blades.
“Charlotte.”
She looked up.
“Did your father tell you what medicine he gave Delilah?”
“No.”
“Did he ask her to take it?”
“He said it was vitamins.”
Delilah opened her eyes.
“It tasted bad.”
Charlotte added, “And he held her nose.”
The desk phone rang before Terrence could respond.
The pharmacist’s number appeared on the display.
He answered.
Her voice had changed.
She no longer sounded cautious because she doubted him.
She sounded cautious because she had found something she did not like.
“I received your emergency request.”
Terrence stood straighter.
“Go ahead.”
“The compound was ordered for Delilah Sinclair and picked up today at 2:41 p.m.”
“What was it?”
She named a sedating prescription medication sometimes prepared in liquid form for patients unable to swallow tablets.
Terrence wrote the name down rather than trusting himself to remember every syllable.
“The concentration?”
She gave it.
“The prescribed dose?”
Another pause.
“That is the problem.”
Terrence looked toward the girls.
“What problem?”
“The written dose entered into our system is far outside the usual pediatric range for a child of the age and weight recorded in the profile.”
His pen stopped.
“Could it be a decimal error?”
“That was my first thought.”
“Who entered it?”
“The prescriber submitted it electronically.”
Terrence already knew the name before she said it.
“Dr. Douglas Sinclair.”
The box fan rattled behind him.
Rainwater slid down the front windows in crooked lines.
“Is Dr. Sinclair affiliated with the child’s regular pediatric practice?”
“No.”
“What is his specialty?”
“Internal medicine.”
Terrence wrote that down too.
The pharmacist continued before he could ask.
“I questioned the dose when it came through.”
“What happened?”
“He called.”
“Dr. Sinclair?”
“Yes.”
“He confirmed it verbally?”
“He insisted it was intentional.”
Terrence’s stomach tightened.
“Did you document that call?”
“Yes.”
“Preserve everything.”
“I already have.”
He thanked her and hung up.
Charlotte was watching him now.
Children noticed when adults tried not to look alarmed.
Terrence printed the emergency disclosure record and placed it beside the sealed syringe.
A new dispatch update flashed on his screen.
FATHER EN ROUTE TO STATION.
He looked through the front windows.
The ambulance had not arrived.
Traffic on Mercer Avenue had slowed in the rain, a line of red brake lights stretching past the intersection.
Then a black SUV turned sharply into the parking lot.
Charlotte saw it at the same moment he did.
Her entire body changed.
She stopped touching Delilah.
Her shoulders rose.
Her mouth opened but no sound came out.
Delilah whimpered.
“That’s Daddy.”
Terrence crossed the lobby and locked the glass doors.
The deadbolt made a heavy metallic sound.
He lowered the interior latch as well.
Charlotte stood up.
“You said we weren’t in trouble.”
“You’re not.”
“Then why are you locking it?”
“Because I want the paramedics to see Delilah before anyone takes you anywhere.”
The SUV stopped crookedly across two parking spaces.
Douglas Sinclair stepped out without an umbrella.
He wore navy scrubs beneath a dark raincoat and held his phone against his ear.
Even from inside, Terrence could see that the man was talking before the vehicle door had fully closed.
He pointed toward the station with one hand as though the building itself had made an error.
Terrence guided the girls behind the counter.
“Stay here.”
Charlotte grabbed his wrist.
“Don’t tell him about the shoe.”
Terrence looked down at her.
“Why?”
Her face tightened.
“Because he’ll know I lied.”
“About what?”
“I told him I threw it in the toilet.”
The first hard pull on the glass door shook the frame.
Douglas looked through the window and spotted Terrence.
He mouthed something sharp and lifted one hand in disbelief.
Then he yanked the handle again.
Terrence stepped into the lobby but kept several feet between himself and the entrance.
Douglas slapped his palm against the glass.
“Open the door.”
Terrence pointed toward the side intercom.
Douglas stared at him, incredulous, then pressed the button.
His voice came through the wall speaker.
“Officer, those are my daughters.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“They left home without permission.”
“They came here requesting help.”
Douglas’s expression shifted, not to fear but irritation.
“They are seven.”
“Yes.”
“They don’t request police protection.”
Terrence looked past him.
No ambulance yet.
“Your daughter is ill.”
Douglas’s jaw moved once.
“She’s sedated.”
Terrence let the word sit between them.
Douglas seemed to hear his own mistake.
He corrected himself immediately.
“She was given prescribed medication.”
“By you?”
“I’m her father and a physician.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Douglas glanced toward the counter, trying to see beyond it.
“Where is Delilah?”
“She’s safe.”
“You have no legal basis to keep my children from me.”
“I have a sick child, an emergency medication disclosure, and a statement that she was forced to swallow an unknown substance.”
Douglas’s face lost color, but his voice remained controlled.
“Charlotte exaggerates.”
Behind the counter, Charlotte made a sound so small Terrence almost missed it.
Douglas heard it.
His eyes snapped toward the noise.
“Charlotte.”
She pressed herself against the cabinet.
“Sweetheart, come out.”
May you like
Terrence moved sideways, blocking the sightline.
Douglas’s hand flattened against the glass.
