Chương 5
I knew it before I understood the words.
Daniel.
“Is that him?”
“Yes.”
“He sounds angry.”
“He is asking why he can’t leave with Lily.”
“What are you telling him?”
“That there’s an active student welfare concern and the counselor needs to complete her process.”
“He’ll call Kessler.”
“He already did.”
Of course he had.
Daniel did not call people for help.
He called people to establish position.
The room door opened.
I flinched so hard the phone nearly fell.
Dr. Shah stepped in.
His expression was different now.
Not alarmed.
More careful.
“I need to examine you again.”
“I’m on the phone.”
“This can’t wait.”
Denise heard him.
“Go.”
“Call me if anything changes.”
We disconnected.
Dr. Shah closed the door behind him.
He was no longer carrying the tablet.
A second physician entered with him, a woman in charcoal scrubs who introduced herself as Dr. Marquez from internal medicine.
That frightened me.
People did not bring extra doctors for reassuring news.
Dr. Shah washed his hands.
“Claire, some of your initial labs are abnormal.”
“How abnormal?”
“Your potassium is low.”
“Okay.”
“Your hemoglobin is also lower than expected, and there are some findings we need to confirm.”
“What findings?”
Dr. Marquez pulled the stool close.
“Have you ever been tested for heavy-metal exposure?”
I stared at her.
“No.”
“Do you have well water?”
“No.”
“Any imported herbal remedies?”
“No.”
“Do pottery, stained glass, shooting sports, renovation work?”
“No.”
“Old house with peeling paint?”
“No.”
She looked at Dr. Shah.
My mouth went dry.
“What are you testing me for?”
“Several things.”
“Which ones?”
“Lead.”
She paused.
“Arsenic.”
I felt the blood leave my face.
“And a few others.”
The room hummed around us.
“You think I’ve been poisoned.”
Dr. Shah answered this time.
“We think your symptoms are unusual enough that we need to exclude toxic exposure.”
“Can arsenic do this?”
“It can cause gastrointestinal symptoms, neurologic symptoms, weakness, cardiac issues, blood abnormalities, depending on dose and duration.”
“Can it make someone faint?”
“Yes.”
“Can it cause a metallic taste?”
Dr. Marquez nodded slowly.
“It can be associated with unusual taste sensations, though that alone means very little.”
I looked at my phone.
“I need you to test my daughter.”
Both doctors went still.
Dr. Shah spoke first.
“Why?”
“My daughter said she’s afraid of medicine at her father’s house.”
“That doesn’t necessarily mean exposure.”
“She also said he gets angry when she doesn’t finish her juice.”
Dr. Marquez’s face sharpened.
“What juice?”
“I don’t know.”
“How old is she?”
“Seven.”
“Where is she now?”
“Her school.”
“Is she symptomatic?”
“I don’t know.”
“Any vomiting?”
“She gets stomachaches.”
“How often?”
I had dismissed them.
That realization hurt physically.
“Mostly after weekends with Daniel.”
Dr. Marquez stood.
“Call the school.”
“I just did.”
“Call again.”
I dialed.
No one answered.
I tried twice.
Then Denise’s number appeared on my screen.
I answered before the first full ring.
“What happened?”
Her breathing was fast.
“Daniel tried to leave with Lily.”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
“Did he?”
“No.”
“What do you mean tried?”
“He became angry when we told him he needed to wait.”
“Where is Lily?”
“In the counseling office.”
“Is she safe?”
“Yes.”
“Where is Daniel?”
There was noise behind her.
A door.
A man shouting.
Then Denise said, “The school resource officer is speaking to him.”
I gripped the blanket.
“Denise, listen to me.”
“I’m listening.”
“The hospital is testing me for possible toxic exposure.”
Silence.
Even the noise behind her seemed to vanish.
Dr. Marquez held out her hand.
I put the call on speaker.
“I’m Dr. Elena Marquez at St. Agnes Hospital,” she said.
“I’m treating Claire Whitaker.”
Denise’s voice became formal.
“Yes, doctor.”
“Is the child currently showing any symptoms?”
“She complained of a stomachache this morning.”
“Anything else?”
“She looked pale.”
Dr. Marquez’s eyes met mine.
“Can you keep her from eating or drinking anything brought by a family member until she’s medically assessed?”
My skin prickled.
Denise did not answer immediately.
Then she said, very quietly, “There’s a bottle of juice in her backpack.”
I could hear my own pulse.
“Who packed it?” I asked.
Denise inhaled.
“Lily said her dad did.”
Dr. Marquez held out her hand again, this time toward the nurse call button.
“Claire, I need you to stay here.”
“I’m going to my daughter.”
“No.”
“She has a bottle in her backpack.”
“I heard.”
“And you’re telling me to stay in bed?”
“I’m telling you that if we’re dealing with a toxic exposure, you may have a cardiac rhythm problem, severe electrolyte disturbance, or something else that makes collapsing in a parking lot a very real possibility.”
“I don’t care.”
“I know.”
Her answer stopped me.
She moved closer.
“But Lily needs a mother who arrives alive.”
I looked away from her.
Through the narrow window in the door, I could see a man pushing an IV pole while arguing with someone on his phone about parking validation.
The ordinary stupidity of the world felt obscene.
Dr. Shah was already talking to Denise.
“Do not open the bottle.”
Denise sounded nervous.
“We haven’t.”
“Do not throw it away, pour it out, rinse it, or let anyone handle it unnecessarily.”
“Okay.”
“Keep it where it is unless law enforcement tells you otherwise.”
There was a pause.
“The backpack is in the counselor’s office.”
“Good.”
Another male voice sounded in the background, louder now.
Daniel.
“I’m her father, and you cannot hold my child here.”
My stomach tightened.
Denise said something away from the phone.
Then the line muffled.
Dr. Marquez reached for my phone.
“May I?”
I gave it to her.
“This is Dr. Marquez.”
Daniel’s voice became clearer.
“Who is this?”
“I’m a physician treating Claire Whitaker.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.”
My hands curled into the blanket.
Dr. Marquez’s face remained still.
“Your daughter may need medical evaluation.”
“Because Claire told you some crazy story?”
“Because we have a potential exposure concern.”
May you like
“Exposure to what?”
“We don’t have a confirmed substance.”
