Chương 9
The officer pulled it open.
Nothing inside resembled dinner.
Rows of specimen tubes rested in foam racks.
Most contained dark red fluid.
Each tube had a white label.
Some said DELILAH.
Some said CHARLOTTE.
Dates covered nearly eight months.
Beth leaned against the counter.
“Oh, my God.”
Terrence crouched without touching anything.
A separate rack contained empty tubes labeled with future dates.
Two were marked for the following week.
One with Charlotte’s name.
One with Delilah’s.
Douglas spoke from the dining room.
“They’re samples.”
Terrence stood.
“That much is obvious.”
“There’s nothing illegal about collecting blood with parental consent.”
Beth turned toward him.
“Whose consent?”
“Mine.”
“You needed Laura too?”
“I am their parent.”
Terrence saw Maya’s expression shift.
Not because she believed him.
Because arguments about parental authority could become muddy fast, and Douglas clearly knew it.
Douglas continued.
“You keep treating clinical documentation as though it is evidence of abuse.”
Beth laughed.
“Your wife was restrained in the basement.”
“She was intoxicated.”
“By what?”
“That is exactly what the hospital should determine.”
“You drugged her.”
“She drugs herself.”
Terrence watched Beth’s hands curl into fists.
Douglas watched too.
He was baiting her again.
Terrence said, “Beth, go outside.”
She looked at him.
“No.”
“Please.”
“No.”
“You’re a witness now.”
“I’m her sister.”
“That is why you need to stop giving him what he wants.”
Her eyes moved toward Douglas.
Then she understood.
She looked away first.
“Fine.”
She walked toward the front door.
Douglas smiled faintly.
Maya noticed.
“So that’s fun for you?”
His smile disappeared.
“What?”
“Getting people angry enough that you can point at them.”
He leaned back in the chair.
“You’re making psychological interpretations now?”
“No.”
“I’d advise against that.”
“I bet you would.”
Terrence returned his attention to the refrigerator.
One shelf in the door held small amber medication bottles.
Most were properly labeled.
Several were not.
The evidence officer photographed each before removal.
Behind a jar of pickles sat a zippered insulin-style cooling case.
Inside were syringes.
One carried Charlotte’s name.
Another carried Delilah’s.
A third label had been peeled halfway off.
Terrence leaned closer.
Under the torn adhesive, a different name was visible.
LAURA SINCLAIR.
The pharmacy code matched the syringe Charlotte had brought to the station.
Terrence felt the afternoon reorganize itself again.
Not three separate victims.
One supply chain.
One prescriber.
One household.
Douglas watched him from the dining room.
“You’re assuming all three contain the same compound.”
“No,” Terrence said.
“That’s what the lab is for.”
“You won’t get usable results if your people break chain of custody.”
The evidence officer glanced at him.
Douglas continued.
“Temperature matters.”
Terrence turned.
“Interesting thing to worry about.”
“It’s an objective fact.”
“So is pouring evidence down a drain.”
Douglas shrugged.
“You have not established it was evidence.”
Maya said, “You ran from police holding a bag of syringes.”
“I was cleaning.”
“You clean fast.”
“My children vanished.”
“So you took out the trash?”
Douglas’s jaw flexed.
That one reached him.
Terrence’s phone vibrated.
The hospital.
He stepped into the hallway and answered.
The emergency physician spoke quickly.
Delilah’s sedation was beginning to improve.
Her vital signs remained stable.
Initial testing suggested exposure to more than one medication.
Nothing definitive yet.
Charlotte’s examination had also raised concerns.
Terrence pressed the phone tighter against his ear.
“What kind?”
“There are healed puncture marks on both thighs.”
“Same pattern as Delilah?”
“Similar.”
“How many?”
“Enough that we’re documenting them carefully.”
Terrence looked through the doorway toward Douglas.
The physician continued.
“Charlotte is also mildly anemic.”
“Could that be from blood draws?”
“Possibly.”
“How much would someone need to draw to cause that?”
“I’m not going to speculate over the phone.”
“Fair.”
“There’s something else.”
Terrence waited.
“Charlotte asked whether we were going to put the blood back.”
His throat tightened.
“Why would she ask that?”
“She says her father told them taking blood was safe because their bodies make more.”
Terrence closed his eyes.
The doctor continued.
“She also says sometimes he gave them medicine first because it made them easier to hold still.”
Terrence opened his eyes again.
“Is child protective services there?”
“Worker arrived ten minutes ago.”
“Keep the girls separated from Douglas.”
“That is already happening.”
“And Laura?”
“En route.”
“Same hospital?”
“Yes.”
“Notify security.”
“We have.”
Terrence ended the call.
He stood in the hallway for a moment.
A family photograph hung at eye level.
Douglas and Laura stood behind the twins on a beach.
Everyone wore white shirts.
Charlotte was missing a front tooth.
Delilah held a purple plastic shovel.
Douglas had one hand on each daughter’s shoulder.
Terrence stared at the picture longer than he meant to.
Maya came up beside him.
“What?”
He told her about the puncture marks.
Her mouth flattened.
“Jesus.”
“And Charlotte’s anemic.”
Maya looked toward the refrigerator.
“That much blood?”
“We don’t know.”
“What was he doing with it?”
Terrence glanced back at Douglas.
“That’s becoming the question.”
The detective supervisor arrived twenty minutes later with a second investigator and a forensic technician.
Detective Lena Park was small, deliberate, and unimpressed by urgency unless urgency could prove it deserved her.
She listened without interrupting while Terrence gave her the sequence.
Station arrival.
Syringe.
Pharmacy record.
Hospital findings.
Basement.
Laura.
Blue box.
Blood tubes.
Medication case.
When he finished, Park looked toward Douglas.
“He invoke counsel?”
“Not yet.”
“Talk much?”
“Constantly.”
“That’s usually either useful or exhausting.”
“Both.”
Park approached him.
“Dr. Sinclair.”
Douglas looked up.
“Detective.”
“You know who I am?”
“I know what a detective looks like.”
Park pulled out a chair and sat opposite him.
“You want an attorney?”
“I’m deciding.”
“Do that before we get interesting.”
Douglas almost smiled.
“I’m capable of understanding my rights.”
“I assumed so.”
She waited.
He waited too.
The silence stretched.
Douglas broke first.
“My daughters were participating in observational monitoring.”
Park did not react.
“What does that mean?”
“I was tracking medication response.”
“Whose medication?”
“Theirs.”
“Prescribed for what diagnosis?”
May you like
Douglas hesitated.
Park leaned back.
