Chương 6
Claire continued, “But also, Mr. Carter… you didn’t want people telling you things.”
Daniel said nothing.
“I’m sorry,” Claire said quickly.
“No. Finish.”
“You were angry all the time.”
He almost objected.
Then remembered throwing a glass of water across the bedroom because his hand had been too weak to button a cuff.
It had not been aimed at anyone.
He had still thrown it.
Claire said, “Not screaming. Just… you didn’t want questions. Mrs. Carter told everyone not to upset you. After a while, if someone tried to say something was strange, you told them you were tired.”
Daniel stared out the dark window.
His reflection looked older than thirty-five.
“Did you know what she was putting in the bottle?”
“No.”
“Did you ever see her prepare anything?”
“No.”
“Why were you replacing it?”
Claire hesitated.
“She told me there were two versions of the same medicine. She said you were being tapered and that she needed me to switch the bottle in the morning so you wouldn’t take the wrong one if you woke up before she did.”
Daniel felt cold.
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“I know that now.”
“You didn’t then?”
“She sounded like she knew.”
Daniel almost laughed.
That was the entire problem in one sentence.
Vanessa always sounded like she knew.
Claire said, “The first week, I didn’t think anything. Then I noticed she never let the nurse see the other bottle.”
“What nurse?”
“The temporary nurse. In May.”
Daniel remembered a woman named Sheila who had lasted three days.
Vanessa said she was careless.
Claire said, “After she left, Mrs. Carter told me not to mention the second bottle anymore.”
“Why did Sheila leave?”
“I don’t know.”
Daniel made a note.
Claire heard him.
“You’re writing this down?”
“Yes.”
“Detective Greene told me not to—”
“I’m not asking you for evidence. I’m asking about my own life.”
Claire was quiet.
Daniel heard his tone.
He set the pen down.
“I’m sorry.”
“I understand.”
“No. You don’t have to say that.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“Claire, I was angry at you when you called.”
“I know.”
“I’m still angry.”
“I know.”
“And I’m angry at myself, which is probably making me worse at knowing which part belongs to you.”
Another pause.
Claire’s voice changed slightly.
“Okay.”
It was not forgiveness.
Daniel appreciated that.
“Do you still have your job?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
“You do if you want it.”
“I don’t think I can come back there.”
The answer surprised him.
He had assumed employment was something he could repair by offering it.
Claire said, “I can’t walk into that hallway without hearing the spoon hit the floor.”
Daniel looked toward the open library doors.
For the first time he understood the house might be evidence for everyone, not just him.
“What do you need?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“All right.”
She hesitated.
“Mr. Carter?”
“Yes?”
“I took a picture.”
Daniel’s hand stopped.
“Of what?”
“The bottles.”
“When?”
“About three weeks ago.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought I was losing my mind.”
Daniel almost stood.
His body reminded him he could not.
“What did you do with it?”
“I gave it to Detective Greene.”
“Good.”
“I almost deleted it.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
“Good.”
After the call, Daniel sat alone for a long time.
He did not call Greene.
He did not call his lawyer.
He did not ask Rachel to come in.
He watched the headlights of cars move beyond the trees at the end of the property.
At some point Emma appeared in the doorway wearing pajamas with small yellow moons.
“You’re supposed to be asleep.”
“So are you.”
“I’m thirty-five.”
“That’s not bedtime.”
He looked at her.
She leaned against the doorframe.
“Can I stay?”
Daniel moved his chair back from the desk.
Emma climbed into the leather armchair across from him and tucked her feet underneath herself.
For five minutes neither spoke.
Then Emma said, “I miss her.”
Daniel looked up.
Emma stared at her knees.
The sentence did not match any of the feelings he had prepared himself to handle.
“Vanessa?”
Emma nodded.
Daniel waited.
“I hate her too.”
“You don’t have to decide tonight.”
“She used to make pancakes shaped like letters.”
Daniel remembered.
Vanessa was terrible at it. Every letter looked like a damaged continent.
Emma’s mouth twitched.
“The E looked like a spider.”
Daniel laughed.
Emma did too.
Then her eyes filled.
“I don’t know how she could do both.”
Daniel looked at his daughter.
He had no answer.
Finally he said, “People can do kind things and terrible things. One doesn’t erase the other.”
“Did she love us?”
Daniel stared at the desk.
“I don’t know.”
Emma frowned.
“You always say you know.”
“I know.”
“That was a joke.”
“I know that too.”
She threw a pillow at him.
It landed short.
For a moment the room felt ordinary.
Then Emma asked, “Are you going to get better?”
Daniel looked at his hands.
“I’m going to work at it.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“No.”
She waited.
“I don’t know how much better I’ll get.”
Emma nodded.
She looked disappointed but not frightened.
Daniel realized truth sometimes frightened children less than adults expected.
Over the next two weeks, the case widened without becoming clearer.
The pharmacy confirmed that Dr. Patel had not authorized the change Vanessa claimed.
The bottle Emma pulled from the trash matched Daniel’s current prescription record.
The other bottle did not.
The label carrying Daniel’s name appeared genuine but belonged to an older prescription container that should no longer have been in use.
What had been inside it was more complicated.
Laboratory testing found residue inconsistent with what Daniel was supposed to be taking.
The powder from the floor and spoon was consistent with the same non-prescribed compound discovered in Daniel’s initial hospital screening.
Daniel’s attorney explained this in careful, unpleasant sentences.
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“It supports exposure,” she said. “It does not, by itself, prove every administration or establish exactly when this began.”
Daniel paced mentally while his body sat still.
