Chương 7
Maya caught her shoulder.
“Do not move closer.”
“She’s breathing.”
“I know.”
“Laura.”
No response.
“Laura, it’s Beth.”
A shallow sound came from the mattress.
Beth folded forward as though someone had hit her.
“Oh, God.”
Douglas said, “She needs to be left still.”
Terrence secured the second cuff.
“You’re done giving instructions.”
“You don’t know her history.”
“You can tell the hospital.”
“She’ll lie.”
Beth turned on him.
“She’s unconscious.”
Douglas’s face hardened.
“That has never stopped her.”
Terrence shoved him toward the wall.
“Enough.”
Boots pounded on the basement stairs.
Two officers entered first, followed by paramedics carrying equipment.
Terrence handed Douglas off and moved away.
The room suddenly became crowded and procedural.
Voices shortened.
Gloves snapped.
A cardiac monitor opened with a plastic clatter.
One paramedic knelt beside Laura and touched her shoulder.
“Ma’am, can you hear me?”
Her eyelids moved.
Beth made a noise that was half sob and half laugh.
The paramedic looked at the restraint around Laura’s wrist.
“Who put this on?”
No one answered.
Then Douglas said, “She did.”
Beth stared at him.
“You unbelievable piece of—”
Maya blocked her before she crossed the room.
Douglas continued calmly.
“She becomes combative during episodes.”
“What episodes?”
Beth demanded.
“Ask her.”
“She can’t talk.”
“Exactly.”
Terrence watched Douglas’s face.
The man had found his footing again.
Being handcuffed had not broken his composure.
If anything, the existence of an audience seemed to strengthen it.
A paramedic checked Laura’s pupils.
Another found adhesive residue at the bend of her elbow.
“Possible IV site.”
Terrence looked toward the utility sink.
On the shelf above it sat alcohol pads, gauze packets, and a torn length of medical tape.
Maya saw them too.
“Photograph before anything gets moved.”
The evidence officer entering behind them lifted a camera.
Douglas said, “Those are ordinary medical supplies.”
Beth looked at him.
“In your basement?”
“I’m a doctor.”
“You’re an internist with an office.”
“I treat my family.”
“No,” Beth said.
“You manage them.”
For the first time, Douglas looked at her directly.
Something private passed between them.
Not surprise.
History.
Terrence noticed.
“Beth.”
She turned.
“What?”
“What did Laura mean by copies?”
Beth shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
“Blue box.”
Her brow tightened.
Then she looked toward the far wall.
“There.”
A plastic storage tote sat beneath a workbench.
It was dark blue with a gray lid.
Douglas moved before anyone else did.
Just one step.
The officer holding him tightened his grip.
“Stay put.”
Douglas stopped.
That reaction was enough.
Terrence pulled on gloves.
He crossed to the tote.
The lid was not locked.
Inside were children’s winter coats, a string of Christmas lights, and three school art folders.
Terrence lifted the top layer.
Beneath it was a large manila envelope.
The front read BETH in black marker.
Beth saw it and closed her eyes.
“Laura.”
Terrence did not open the envelope immediately.
He showed it to the evidence officer.
The officer photographed its position.
Then Terrence lifted it out.
Douglas said, “That contains stolen confidential material.”
Terrence looked at him.
“You know what’s inside?”
Douglas’s jaw tightened.
“I can infer.”
“That sounded more specific than an inference.”
Douglas said nothing.
The envelope contained photocopied prescription records, handwritten notes, bank statements, and several printed emails.
Terrence scanned only enough to understand the categories.
He stopped on one page.
A list of dates ran down the left side.
Beside them were the girls’ names.
Dosages appeared in another column.
The final column contained short observations.
Sleep duration.
Appetite.
Mood.
Coordination.
Beth whispered, “What is that?”
Terrence turned the page toward her without letting her touch it.
Her face changed.
“These are experiments.”
Douglas snapped, “No.”
It was the loudest he had spoken since entering the basement.
Everyone looked at him.
He corrected himself.
“They are monitoring notes.”
Beth stared at him.
“Monitoring what?”
“Their response.”
“To what?”
Douglas stopped.
The room went very quiet except for the cardiac monitor beside Laura.
Beth said, “Response to what, Doug?”
He looked away.
Terrence returned to the papers.
Some entries referenced medications by abbreviated names.
Others used initials and concentration numbers.
Several were not drugs typically prescribed to healthy children.
He did not pretend to understand all of them.
What he did understand were the dates.
They went back almost nine months.
Charlotte and Delilah had not wandered into one bad afternoon.
They had been living inside something organized.
Maya crouched beside him.
“There’s more.”
She pointed to a folded document behind the logs.
Terrence unfolded it.
It was a letter from a medical licensing attorney addressed to Douglas.
The language was cautious but clear.
There had been questions about controlled-substance prescribing patterns at his practice.
An internal compliance review was pending.
The letter advised him not to alter, destroy, or remove records.
Terrence looked toward the sink.
Douglas’s face had become flat.
Maya said, “That explains the trash.”
Douglas scoffed.
“No, it explains why my personal paperwork is being misread by people who don’t understand medicine.”
Beth said, “Your wife was tied to a bed.”
“That restraint was for her safety.”
“She texted me that you scared her.”
“She was unstable.”
“You told me she went to Vermont.”
“She wanted space.”
“She was in the basement.”
Douglas looked at Terrence instead.
“My wife abuses prescription medication.”
Beth laughed in disbelief.
Douglas kept going.
“She steals samples.”
“Samples from where?”
“From me.”
“You don’t keep samples at home.”
“You have no idea what I keep at home.”
Beth stepped forward.
Maya caught her again.
Douglas’s mouth tightened with faint satisfaction.
He had managed to make Beth look volatile.
Terrence saw her see it too.
She went still.
“That’s what you do,” she said.
Douglas shrugged.
“Beth.”
“You poke people until they become the version you described.”
He looked bored.
“That sentence probably sounded better in your head.”
Beth’s face reddened.
Then Laura spoke.
It was only one word.
“Stop.”
Every person in the basement turned toward the mattress.
Laura’s eyes were open.
May you like
Barely.
Beth dropped to her knees again.
