Chapter 3
The heavy glass door slid open with a soft swoosh,
and Daniel stepped into the dim room.
He pulled a plastic chair up to the side of my bed,
his large,
calloused hand gently wrapping around my cold,
IV-riddled fingers.
"I know you can hear me,
Emma,"
he whispered,
his voice cracking under the weight of suppressed emotion.
"I'm so sorry I didn't see it sooner,"
he said,
his thumb stroking the back of my hand.
"I thought you were just stressed,"
he confessed,
"I thought your mother was just being strict."
I squeezed his hand with the tiny ounce of strength I had left.
Daniel gasped softly,
leaning closer.
"Emma?"
he asked,
his eyes searching my face.
Before I could attempt another movement,
the door opened again,
and Dr. Evans walked in,
holding a thick manila folder under his arm.
Behind him stood a tall man in a dark suit,
a gold badge gleaming on his belt.
"Mr. Vance,"
Dr. Evans addressed Daniel,
his expression grim and unforgiving.
"Are you Emma's legal guardian?"
he inquired.
"I'm her stepfather,"
Daniel stood up straight,
his posture defensive.
"Her mother is outside in the hallway,"
he added,
gesturing toward the window.
"We need to speak with you first,"
the man in the suit spoke,
stepping forward and offering a brief handshake.
"I am Detective Miller from the Cedar Rapids Police Department,"
he introduced himself.
"Is something wrong?"
Daniel asked,
his eyes darting between the officer and the doctor.
Dr. Evans opened the folder,
laying several sheets of lab results on the small table beside the cardiac monitor.
"Emma's initial blood panel showed catastrophic levels of thallium,"
Dr. Evans stated flatly.
"Thallium?"
Daniel repeated,
brow furrowing in total confusion.
"It is an odorless,
tasteless heavy metal,"
Dr. Evans explained,
pointing to a spike on the red graph.
"It was historically used as rat poison,"
he said,
"and it causes gradual neurological damage,
respiratory depression,
and organ failure when administered in repeated,
small doses."
Daniel went completely silent,
the color draining from his face until he looked like a corpse.
"This wasn't a sudden asthma attack,"
Detective Miller chimed in,
his voice low and grave.
"Someone has been deliberately poisoning Emma for at least four to six months,"
he declared.
Daniel’s fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned stark white.
"She doesn't work with chemicals,"
Daniel stammered,
his breath coming in quick,
furious puffs.
"She stays home,
she goes to school,
and she eats what's prepared at the house,"
he realized out loud.
"Exactly,"
Detective Miller said,
May you like
pulling out a small notepad.
"And we need to secure her home before anyone returns to clean up the evidence."
