Chapter 2 - TWELVE MINUTES
“Vivian!”
She spun toward the doorway.
Ethan moved faster.
Still holding Emmie, he stepped between Vivian and the door.
“What did you give her?”
“Nothing dangerous.”
“That wasn't my question.”
Emmie lifted her head weakly.
“Dad, I'm cold.”
Ethan touched her forehead.
Her skin felt clammy.
His heart started pounding.
“What did she give you?”
“I don't know.”
Vivian folded her arms.
“She was having an episode.”
“What episode?”
“She became hysterical.”
Emmie whispered, “I asked to call you.”
Ethan looked at Vivian.
“That was her episode?”
Vivian's jaw tightened.
“She wouldn't calm down.”
“So you hooked something to her arm?”
“It was prescribed.”
“By who?”
No answer.
Ethan pulled out his phone.
“I'm calling 911.”
Vivian lunged for the device.
“No!”
Ethan stepped back.
That reaction told him more than any answer could have.
He dialed.
“911. What's your emergency?”
“My nine-year-old daughter has been restrained and possibly given medication without my consent. She's weak, barely awake, and still has medical tubing attached to her arm.”
The dispatcher immediately changed tone.
“Is she breathing normally?”
“Yes.”
“Is she responsive?”
“Barely.”
“Sir, do not remove anything from her arm. Paramedics are being sent now.”
Ethan checked the card again.
“What does ‘next dose’ mean?”
“I don't know,” Vivian said.
“You wrote this.”
“That proves nothing.”
Ethan stared at her handwriting on the clipboard.
Same crooked E.
Same sharp D.
Same thick black marker.
Emmie mumbled, “Blue bag.”
Ethan bent closer.
“What?”
“The blue bag.”
Vivian went still.
Emmie pointed weakly through the open door.
“Kitchen.”
Ethan looked at Vivian.
“What is in the blue bag?”
“Nothing.”
He carried Emmie inside.
Vivian grabbed the doorframe.
“You cannot search my house.”
“Call the police.”
“They're already coming.”
The kitchen smelled like coffee and bleach.
A blue insulated medical bag sat on the counter.
Ethan approached it.
“Dad…”
“I've got you.”
He opened the zipper with one hand.
Inside were syringes.
Small bottles.
Alcohol wipes.
And a printed label with Emmie's full name.
Ethan froze.
EMMELINE COLE.
Below it was a doctor's name he had never seen.
He read the instructions twice.
Then a third time.
Vivian stood behind him.
“Put that down.”
Ethan turned.
“You told me this was prescribed.”
“It was.”
“This prescription is dated three days ago.”
“So?”
“Emmie hasn't seen a doctor in three days.”
Vivian said nothing.
Ethan reached deeper into the bag.
He found a pharmacy receipt.
Cash purchase.
Then another document.
A patient registration page.
Emmie's birthday.
Emmie's address.
His emergency contact number.
Everything looked correct.
Except one line.
Parent/Guardian Authorization: Ethan Cole.
Underneath was a signature.
His signature.
Except Ethan had never signed it.
Outside, sirens approached.
Ethan looked at Vivian.
“You forged my name.”
Her face hardened.
“You don't understand.”
“Then explain it before those cops walk through that door.”
Vivian glanced toward Emmie.
Then toward the blue bag.
And quietly said:
“The medicine isn't the real problem.”
Ethan's blood went cold.
“What is?”
Vivian swallowed.
May you like
“The second bag.”
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