Chương 6
“Did you believe her?”
“No.”
The hallway sounds seemed to pull away.
A cart rolled past carrying folded blankets.
Somewhere farther down, a child protested loudly about having blood drawn.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
Karen did not answer.
“Why didn’t you tell Mark?”
“She begged me not to.”
The shame in her voice made the rest obvious before she said it.
“She said she’d taken them for herself.”
I opened my eyes.
“For what?”
“She wasn’t sleeping.”
“Because?”
“She said things were bad between them.”
That did not sound right.
Mark complained about money, schedules, Natalie’s tendency to leave every kitchen cabinet open, and once about an argument over replacing their washing machine.
He had never suggested the marriage was collapsing.
Maybe he had hidden it.
Maybe Natalie had lied to Karen.
Maybe both were true.
“What exactly did Natalie tell you?”
“That Mark was working all the time.”
Karen’s voice lowered.
“She felt trapped.”
I looked through the glass again.
Mark was feeding Lily a spoonful of applesauce because she had somehow managed to spill some on the hospital blanket.
“She said she couldn’t go anywhere.”
“Anywhere where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Karen.”
“I don’t know, Richard.”
Her voice broke.
“She was lonely.”
Loneliness had become a dangerous word.
Too broad.
Too easy.
I asked whether she knew Natalie had been leaving the house at night.
The line went silent long enough that I thought the call had dropped.
Then Karen whispered, “Yes.”
My grip tightened.
“How?”
“She asked me to come over twice.”
“To watch Lily?”
“Yes.”
“Then why would she need to drug her?”
“I didn’t know she was doing that.”
“But you knew she was leaving.”
“Yes.”
“Where was she going?”
“I don’t know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I don’t.”
She sounded angry now, which made her crying stop.
“I knew she wanted a few hours out of that house.”
“Doing what?”
“She said she was meeting friends.”
“Who?”
“I didn’t ask.”
That finally sounded believable.
People rarely asked enough questions when the answers might become responsibilities.
“When did you babysit?”
“July.”
“Which nights?”
“I can find out.”
“How?”
“My calendar.”
“Don’t touch anything.”
She went quiet.
“What?”
“Don’t delete messages, don’t clean anything up, don’t throw away medicine, and don’t try to help Natalie.”
“You think I would do that?”
“I think you already did.”
I ended the call before she could answer.
Denise came over.
“Was that Karen Bell?”
“Yes.”
I told her what Karen had said.
Not beautifully.
Not in perfect order.
I stumbled over the prescription name and had to check it in a message from the clinic portal that Mark had forwarded earlier.
Denise wrote quickly.
When I finished, she asked whether Karen had admitted providing the medication to Natalie.
“No.”
“Only that pills went missing?”
“Yes.”
“And that she knew Natalie was leaving the house at night?”
“She babysat twice.”
Denise looked toward Lily’s room.
“That matters.”
“Because?”
“Because it may give us dates when Lily was not alone.”
I understood.
If Lily had been sedated on nights Karen was there, then the medication might not have been only about leaving her unsupervised.
The purpose could be something else.
That possibility felt worse in a different way.
Mark came out ten minutes later.
I told him Karen had called.
His first reaction was anger that she had called me instead of him.
His second was silence.
He took the information about the missing zolpidem without moving.
When I told him Karen knew Natalie had gone out at night, he asked only one thing.
“Where?”
“She says she doesn’t know.”
“Bullshit.”
“Maybe.”
“No.”
He pulled out his phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking something.”
He opened a banking app and scrolled.
His face changed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Mark.”
He held up a finger.
“Give me a second.”
He scrolled farther.
I watched his thumb stop.
Then move backward.
Then stop again.
“What is it?”
“There are charges.”
“What charges?”
“Ride-share.”
“That’s not unusual.”
“She has a car.”
Maybe it was still not unusual.
Maybe she had gone drinking with friends and used a ride service responsibly.
Maybe there was an explanation for every line on the screen.
Mark no longer believed in easy explanations.
He showed me three charges.
All after ten at night.
Two were on dates when his work calendar showed overnight shifts.
One was on a Sunday in August.
He tapped it.
“I was home that night.”
“Were you?”
He stared at me.
Then something surfaced in his face.
“I got called in.”
He searched his messages.
There it was.
A text from his supervisor at 9:16 p.m.
Emergency line issue.
Can you come in?
Mark had replied seven minutes later.
On my way.
The ride-share charge was at 10:03.
He leaned against the wall.
“She waited until I left.”
Denise joined us.
Mark showed her the charges.
She photographed the screen and asked him not to delete anything or contact the ride-share company yet.
“Can’t we see where she went?”
“Possibly.”
“Then do it.”
“There may be account records, receipts, location history, or other information.”
“Then get it.”
“That process may require consent, access, or legal authority depending on what investigators need.”
Mark looked ready to tear the phone in half.
“Everything takes permission except drugging my daughter.”
Denise let that sit.
It was unfair.
It was also impossible to argue with.
The hospital discharged Lily shortly after nine with instructions for observation and follow-up.
Her confirmatory toxicology results were still pending.
The medical team wanted her kept away from any suspect medication and brought back immediately for unusual sleepiness, breathing problems, confusion, vomiting, or other concerning symptoms.
Mark listened so intensely that the nurse finally told him she was giving him printed instructions.
“I know.”
“I’m telling you because you’ve asked me to repeat the same sentence three times.”
He looked embarrassed.
“Sorry.”
The nurse smiled gently.
May you like
“It’s been a bad day.”
Lily came out wearing her hoodie and carrying the purple drawing from the pediatrician, which somebody had apparently thought important enough to bring with her.
