Chapter 2 - DR. MERCER
Oliver was admitted to St. Matthew’s Children’s Hospital at 9:18 p.m.
Ryan remembered the exact time because he stared at the clock while doctors worked around his son.
9:18.
9:19.
9:20.
Each minute felt unbearable.
Maya sat beside him.
A nurse had cleaned the blood from her face.
Her nose was swollen.
There was a bruise beginning beneath one eye.
Ryan kept looking at it.
Every time he did, guilt twisted inside him.
He had brought Evelyn into their lives.
He had defended her.
Excused her.
Asked Maya to tolerate her.
“She’s difficult.”
“She means well.”
“That’s just how Mom is.”
He had said those sentences so many times they now sounded disgusting.
Maya noticed him staring.
“What?”
Ryan looked away.
“I should’ve believed you.”
Maya said nothing.
“You told me she hated you.”
“She didn’t hate me at first.”
Ryan looked back.
Maya’s eyes were fixed on the hospital floor.
“She hated me after Oliver was born.”
Ryan frowned.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
Maya hesitated.
Ryan knew his wife.
He knew when she was protecting him from something.
“Maya.”
She looked at him.
“Tell me.”
Maya took a slow breath.
“Three days after Oliver was born, your mother came to my hospital room while you were downstairs.”
Ryan waited.
“She asked me whether I planned to breastfeed.”
Ryan frowned.
“That’s what this is about?”
“No.”
Maya shook her head.
“She asked whether I had postpartum depression.”
Ryan’s expression changed.
“What?”
“I told her no.”
“She said every woman in her family became unstable after childbirth.”
Ryan stared at her.
“She said that?”
Maya nodded.
“Then she told me I should be evaluated.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I did.”
Ryan froze.
“When?”
“The night we brought Oliver home.”
Ryan searched his memory.
Then something surfaced.
Maya standing in their kitchen.
Exhausted.
Holding their newborn son.
Telling him Evelyn had been asking strange questions.
Ryan had kissed her forehead.
He had told her his mother was just worried.
He remembered every word.
“God.”
Maya looked away.
“She kept doing it.”
“Doing what?”
“Suggesting doctors.”
“Therapists.”
“Evaluations.”
“She kept telling people I wasn’t sleeping.”
“You weren’t sleeping.”
“I had a newborn.”
Ryan closed his eyes.
Maya continued.
“She would tell people I looked exhausted.”
“That I seemed anxious.”
“That I was overwhelmed.”
“She made normal things sound dangerous.”
Ryan felt sick.
“Why didn’t I see this?”
“Because she never did it when you were paying attention.”
A doctor entered before Ryan could answer.
“Mr. and Mrs. Whitmore?”
They both stood.
The doctor removed his mask.
“I’m Dr. Patel.”
“How is he?”
Ryan asked immediately.
“Oliver is responding well.”
Maya covered her mouth.
Ryan closed his eyes.
The doctor continued.
“His oxygen saturation has improved significantly.”
“We’re treating the respiratory episode and monitoring him closely.”
“Is he going to be okay?”
“We’re optimistic.”
Maya began crying.
Ryan pulled her against him.
For the first time since entering the nursery, his knees nearly gave out.
Dr. Patel waited.
Then his expression became more serious.
“There is something I need to ask.”
Ryan straightened.
“What?”
“When was Oliver’s medication last administered before tonight?”
Maya wiped her face.
“This afternoon.”
“Approximately what time?”
“Four.”
Dr. Patel nodded.
“And who manages his medication?”
“I do.”
“Always?”
“Usually.”
The doctor looked at Ryan.
“Has anyone recently changed his prescription?”
Ryan shook his head.
Maya stopped.
“What?”
Ryan looked at her.
She had gone pale.
“Maya?”
She turned toward Dr. Patel.
“Can I see the medication list?”
The doctor hesitated.
“Of course.”
A nurse handed Maya a printed chart.
She scanned it.
Then her finger stopped.
“No.”
Ryan stepped closer.
“What?”
“This isn’t right.”
Dr. Patel looked at the chart.
“What isn’t?”
“This dosage.”
She pointed.
“Oliver has never taken this dosage.”
The doctor frowned.
Ryan’s heart began pounding again.
“What are you saying?”
Maya looked terrified.
“This says his dosage was reduced six weeks ago.”
Ryan looked at the doctor.
“Was it?”
Dr. Patel checked the electronic record.
“There is an authorization.”
“From who?”
The doctor scrolled.
Then stopped.
“Dr. Andrew Mercer.”
Silence.
Ryan stared at him.
“Say that again.”
“Dr. Andrew Mercer.”
Maya looked at Ryan.
Neither of them spoke.
Dr. Patel noticed.
“Do you know him?”
Ryan’s voice became cold.
“No.”
Maya shook her head.
“I’ve never met him.”
Dr. Patel frowned.
“He’s listed as having consulted on Oliver’s case.”
“He never did.”
Ryan pulled out his phone.
He called Officer Brooks.
The officer answered immediately.
“Ryan?”
“We found Mercer.”
“What?”
“He changed Oliver’s medication.”
Silence.
Then Brooks’s voice sharpened.
“Are you certain?”
“The hospital has his authorization.”
“Do not leave.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“We’re coming.”
The call ended.
Maya stared through the glass at Oliver.
“This wasn’t just tonight.”
Ryan knew exactly what she meant.
Someone had interfered with their son’s medical care weeks earlier.
Someone had wanted Oliver’s condition to become unstable.
Someone had been preparing the crisis.
Ryan felt nauseated.
Thirty minutes later, Brooks arrived with Detective Lena Shaw.
Shaw was in her early forties.
Quiet.
Focused.
She placed the Mercer letter on the table.
“We identified him.”
Ryan waited.
“Andrew Mercer is a psychiatrist.”
Maya looked confused.
“Then why was he changing Oliver’s respiratory medication?”
“That’s one of several questions we have.”
Shaw opened a notebook.
“Do either of you recognize the name?”
“No.”
Maya answered immediately.
Ryan shook his head.
Shaw looked at Maya.
“Mrs. Whitmore, have you ever been evaluated by a psychiatrist?”
“No.”
“Have you ever been admitted for psychiatric treatment?”
“No.”
“Have you ever been prescribed psychiatric medication?”
“No.”
“Has Evelyn ever suggested that you should be?”
Maya laughed bitterly.
“For three years.”
Shaw wrote something down.
Then she looked at Ryan.
“Your mother has been contacting Mercer for at least six months.”
Ryan’s jaw tightened.
“How do you know?”
“We found correspondence.”
“How much?”
“Enough to establish an ongoing relationship.”
Ryan looked at Maya.
“What kind of relationship?”
Shaw hesitated.
“We don’t know yet.”
That answer bothered Ryan.
Detectives rarely said they didn’t know when their expression suggested otherwise.
“What aren’t you telling us?”
Shaw closed the notebook.
“Dr. Mercer’s office was contacted twenty minutes ago.”
“And?”
“No answer.”
“Go there.”
“We did.”
Ryan stared at her.
“And?”
“The office was empty.”
Maya whispered.
“He ran.”
Shaw didn’t confirm it.
She didn’t need to.
Ryan looked toward Oliver’s room.
“What happens now?”
“We secure your home.”
“We preserve the recordings.”
“We examine every document.”
“And Evelyn?”
Shaw glanced at Brooks.
“She’s being questioned.”
“Questioned?”
Ryan’s voice rose.
“She took medication from a three-year-old who couldn’t breathe.”
“Ryan.”
Maya touched his arm.
He stopped.
Shaw remained calm.
“We’re moving carefully because we need to understand the entire situation.”
Ryan stared at her.
Then his phone vibrated.
UNKNOWN NUMBER.
He ignored it.
It vibrated again.
UNKNOWN NUMBER.
Ryan answered.
“Who is this?”
Silence.
Then a man spoke.
“Ryan Whitmore?”
Ryan looked at Shaw.
“Yes.”
“My name is Andrew Mercer.”
Everyone in the room froze.
Ryan immediately put the phone on speaker.
Shaw gestured for him to continue.
Ryan’s voice dropped.
“Where are you?”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
Mercer ignored him.
“You need to listen carefully.”
Ryan looked at Maya.
“What did you do to my son?”
“I didn’t call about Oliver.”
Ryan’s expression hardened.
“Then you made a mistake.”
“No.”
Mercer sounded frightened.
“I called because Evelyn lied to me too.”
Ryan almost laughed.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
“I expect you to check something.”
“What?”
Mercer took a breath.
“Your mother’s safe.”
Ryan frowned.
“What safe?”
“The one inside her house.”
“What’s in it?”
Another pause.
Then Mercer said something Ryan never expected.
“Your father’s medical records.”
Ryan stopped breathing.
His father had been dead for fourteen years.
Richard Whitmore had suffered what Evelyn always described as a sudden cardiac event.
Ryan had been twenty-one.
His father had collapsed at home.
Evelyn had been alone with him.
Ryan’s voice changed.
“What do my father’s records have to do with Maya?”
Mercer answered quietly.
May you like
“Everything.”
Then the line went dead.
