Chương 5
You’re tired.
You’re upset.
You’re overreacting.
Listen to yourself.
This time she did.
Her voice was calm.
“What was in the folder with Mia’s name?”
The silence changed.
Tiny difference.
But she heard it.
“What folder?”
“The one in your office.”
“I have dozens of folders.”
“The one with articles about arrhythmias and drug interactions.”
“I research things.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s been having panic symptoms.”
“Did she tell you her heart was racing?”
“She tells us both that.”
“She told me anxiety.”
“She said palpitations.”
“When?”
“Last month.”
Laura frowned.
“Was I there?”
“No.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I probably did.”
“You didn’t.”
“You forget things.”
The cruelty was so familiar it almost passed unnoticed.
Laura pressed her lips together.
“Why were you researching drug interactions?”
“I don’t remember every article I print.”
“Daniel.”
“Why are you interrogating me?”
“Because our daughter is in a hospital bed.”
“And I’m trying to help.”
“No. You’re trying to explain.”
“What do you want from me?”
“The truth.”
“I’ve given it to you.”
She waited.
Sometimes silence made people continue.
Daniel had taught her that accidentally during twenty-one years of marriage.
He continued.
“There are things going on with Mia you don’t know about.”
Laura’s grip tightened.
“What things?”
“I’m not discussing it over the phone.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“She’s been taking things.”
“What things?”
“I don’t know.”
“Drugs?”
“I don’t know.”
“You just said—”
“I said I’m concerned.”
“Based on what?”
“I found pills.”
Laura stood.
“Where?”
“In her backpack.”
“What pills?”
“I didn’t know.”
“Where are they now?”
Silence.
“Daniel.”
“I threw them away.”
Laura stared at the wall.
“When?”
“A week ago.”
“The same week you printed those articles?”
“I told you, I was researching.”
“You found unknown pills in our daughter’s backpack and threw them away without telling me?”
“I was trying not to humiliate her.”
Laura laughed once.
It sounded wrong.
Daniel said, “What’s funny?”
“Nothing.”
“I am her father.”
“I know.”
“I have spent sixteen years protecting her.”
“I know.”
“Then stop talking to me like I’m a criminal.”
Laura looked through the glass at Mia sleeping.
“You kicked the evidence.”
He hung up.
At ten thirty, the hospital cleared Mia for discharge pending outpatient follow-up.
The toxicology panel had identified a sedating antihistamine in her system at a level higher than expected for casual therapeutic use but not clearly life-threatening by the time the sample was collected. The physician carefully avoided saying exactly when or how it had been taken.
Laura immediately thought of the old hydroxyzine prescription.
The detective did too.
The bottle was not among the medications police initially found.
Mia insisted she had not taken any in months.
Reyes asked whether anyone else had access.
Everyone in the house did.
Daniel told police he believed Mia might have resumed taking it without telling her parents.
The crushed residue collected from the kitchen had been sent for analysis.
No result yet.
That uncertainty was enough to keep Daniel outside the reach of an arrest.
It was also enough to make going home impossible.
Laura took Mia to her sister Caroline’s house.
Caroline lived twenty minutes away in a narrow brick townhouse full of plants she routinely forgot to water.
She hugged Mia carefully.
Then Laura.
Then stepped back.
“What happened?”
Laura had rehearsed an answer in the car.
It disappeared.
“We don’t know.”
Caroline looked at Mia.
Mia said, “Dad put something in my dinner.”
Caroline stared at Laura.
“You said you didn’t know.”
“We don’t know exactly what.”
“He put something in her food?”
“Evan saw him.”
Caroline’s face changed.
She had never liked Daniel.
Not openly.
She called him “efficient” in the tone most people used for tax software.
Daniel called her dramatic.
Laura had spent years translating between them.
Now she resented them both for making those memories relevant.
“Where is he?”
“At home.”
“Why?”
“Because he hasn’t been arrested.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means they need evidence.”
Mia went upstairs to lie down.
Caroline waited until the bedroom door closed.
“Tell me everything.”
Laura did.
She expected Caroline to say, I knew something was wrong with him.
Instead her sister sat at the kitchen table and covered her mouth.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
Laura blinked.
“No.”
“I mean Daniel is controlling. He’s a pain in the ass. But poisoning Mia?”
“I don’t know that he poisoned her.”
“He crushed something into her dinner and lied about it.”
“He says it was antacid.”
“Do you believe him?”
Laura looked at the countertop.
Caroline lowered her voice.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing.”
“Laura.”
“Nothing.”
Her sister studied her.
“You’re defending him.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re doing that thing.”
“What thing?”
“The thing where if the worst possibility is too ugly, you stand exactly one inch away from admitting it.”
Laura pushed her chair back.
“I need coffee.”
Caroline did not follow.
The coffee machine made a whining sound while heating.
Laura stared at the drip tray, where someone had spilled sugar.
She wiped it with her thumb.
Then again.
“Stop cleaning,” Caroline said from the table.
Laura looked at her.
Caroline’s expression softened.
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“No.”
That almost made them smile.
Almost.
Evan arrived that afternoon.
He had changed clothes but still looked unwashed.
Mia was asleep upstairs.
He sat at Caroline’s kitchen table and refused food.
Laura set a sandwich in front of him anyway.
“You said there was more.”
He looked at Caroline.
“She knows.”
“Great.”
“Evan.”
He rubbed both hands over his jeans.
“Dad’s been weird about Mia for a while.”
“What does weird mean?”
“Watching her.”
Laura frowned.
“He’s her father.”
“No, like... checking stuff.”
“Her phone?”
“Her room.”
“When?”
“When she’s out.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he made me help once.”
Caroline leaned forward.
“Help do what?”
“Search.”
Laura felt an immediate surge of anger.
“For what?”
“He said Mia was hiding something dangerous.”
“What?”
“He wouldn’t say.”
“When was this?”
May you like
“Maybe six weeks ago.”
Laura tried to remember six weeks ago.
