Chương 3
“Where is she?”
“With the doctors.”
“What happened?”
I tried to answer.
Officer Vega lowered her notebook.
Ryan looked from me to her.
Then his phone began ringing.
He pulled it from his pocket.
The screen showed MOM.
He stared at it.
It stopped.
A message appeared immediately afterward.
Ryan read it.
His face changed.
“What?”
I asked.
He did not answer.
“Ryan, what did she say?”
He turned the phone toward me.
Linda’s message contained only one sentence.
Tell Claire I never would have restrained Sophie if she had told me about the seizures.
I read the message twice because the first time the words refused to become meaning.
“What seizures?”
Ryan looked at me as if I had asked him what color the sky was.
“What is she talking about?”
“I don’t know.”
Officer Vega stepped closer.
“May I see that?”
Ryan handed her the phone.
She read the message without changing expression, then looked at me.
“Has Sophie ever had a seizure?”
“No.”
“Any medical condition?”
“No.”
“Any episode where she stiffened, shook, stopped breathing, stared unusually, anything your pediatrician was concerned about?”
“No.”
Ryan shook his head harder than necessary.
“She had reflux for a while.”
“Spit-up,” I said.
“Right.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“I know.”
The emergency doors opened before either of us could say anything else.
A doctor in navy scrubs came toward us, pulling off a pair of gloves.
He was younger than I expected, maybe late thirties, with damp hair flattened above his ears as if he had washed his face quickly before coming out.
“Mr. and Mrs. Mercer?”
We stood together.
“I’m Dr. Patel.”
My knees weakened at the sound of his voice because doctors only came out like that to tell families things.
He seemed to see it happen.
“She has a pulse.”
Ryan made a choking sound.
I grabbed the back of the chair.
“She’s breathing with assistance right now, but she does have a pulse.”
The room came back in pieces.
The vending machine light.
Officer Vega’s notebook.
A woman at the registration desk asking someone for an insurance card.
Ryan’s fingers closing around mine.
“What happened to her?”
Dr. Patel glanced toward the officer, then back to us.
“We’re still evaluating her.”
“Is she going to live?”
“I can’t promise that yet.”
Ryan let go of my hand and pressed both palms against his face.
I stared at the doctor.
“What do you know?”
“We know she experienced a significant event.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means there was a period when she was not getting enough oxygen.”
My stomach lurched.
“We don’t know how long.”
“The paramedics said she wasn’t breathing.”
“Yes.”
“Did the scarf suffocate her?”
“We don’t know yet.”
I hated him for that answer even though I knew it was the only honest one he could give.
He continued carefully.
“There are several things we’re looking at, including accidental positional compromise, compression, aspiration, and other medical causes.”
Officer Vega said, “Doctor, the grandmother is claiming the child has a seizure disorder.”
Dr. Patel looked at me.
“She doesn’t.”
“You’re certain?”
“She has never been diagnosed with anything.”
“Has anyone ever mentioned unusual movements?”
I shook my head.
“She kicks.”
Ryan lowered his hands.
“She does this thing when she gets excited.”
He demonstrated helplessly, elbows bent, fists moving near his chest.
“She pumps her arms.”
Dr. Patel nodded once.
“That can be normal infant behavior.”
“That’s what my mother meant.”
“No,” I said.
Ryan looked at me.
“That’s what she called seizures.”
“You don’t know that.”
“She tied Sophie down because she moved.”
His face tightened.
“I know what she did.”
“Do you?”
Officer Vega’s eyes flicked between us.
Ryan looked away first.
Dr. Patel spoke before the argument could grow.
“We’re transferring Sophie to pediatric intensive care.”
“Can we see her?”
“In a few minutes.”
“Can I stay with her?”
“One of you can go with the team upstairs, and the other can follow.”
“I’m going.”
Ryan nodded immediately.
“Go.”
The doctor turned toward the doors, then paused.
“One more thing.”
I waited.
“When we examined her, we found marks consistent with restraint around the wrist and across the chest and abdomen.”
Ryan closed his eyes.
Dr. Patel kept his voice neutral.
“There’s also bruising near her left upper arm that appears older than what happened today.”
The sentence landed somewhere behind me.
“What?”
“Not old as in weeks necessarily.”
“How old?”
“I can’t tell you from looking.”
“I didn’t see any bruise.”
“It’s small.”
Ryan stared at the doctor.
“Could it be from today?”
“It may be.”
“But you said older.”
“I said it appears older.”
I looked at Ryan.
He looked back at me.
Neither of us said Linda’s name.
Officer Vega did not need us to.
“When was your mother last alone with the baby before today?”
Ryan swallowed.
“Tuesday.”
It was Friday.
“For how long?”
“Maybe two hours.”
I answered without looking away from him.
“Three and a half.”
Ryan frowned.
“You were at the dentist.”
“And the pharmacy.”
“Right.”
Officer Vega wrote it down.
I suddenly remembered the onesie.
Tuesday night, changing Sophie before bed, I had noticed a faint yellowish spot high on her arm.
I had pressed it gently.
Sophie had fussed.
I had assumed she had bumped herself against Ryan’s watch while he carried her.
He wore a heavy stainless-steel watch his father had given him.
I had actually teased him about it.
Your daughter is going to file a workplace injury claim against that thing.
He had taken the watch off and put it in the nightstand.
Now my mouth tasted metallic.
“There was a mark.”
Everyone looked at me.
“Tuesday night.”
Ryan’s face went still.
“You told me that was from my watch.”
“I thought it was.”
Officer Vega asked, “Did you photograph it?”
“No.”
“Did you mention it to anyone?”
“Only Ryan.”
I heard how useless that sounded.
A nurse appeared beside Dr. Patel.
May you like
“We’re ready.”
He nodded toward me.
