Building a witness list out of gossip.
Doctor Harris walked into the front lobby with the orange bottle sealed in a plastic medical bag.
“I’m the child’s pediatrician,” he said. “The child disclosed being given this medication daily by Mrs. Diane Patterson. The prescription belongs to Mrs. Patterson. I examined the child. Her symptoms are consistent with inappropriate sedative exposure. Bloodwork is medically necessary.”
Diane’s mask slipped.
Only for half a second.
But I saw it.
So did one of the officers.
The younger officer turned to her.
“Ma’am, is this your prescription?”
Diane pressed a hand to her chest.
“I have no idea how Mariela got that.”
Andrés looked at the bottle.
Then at his mother.
Something flickered in his eyes.
A small doubt.
A late doubt.
A useless doubt.
“Mom?” he said.
Diane turned on him so quickly it almost frightened me.
“Andrés, don’t you dare look at me like that. You know what she’s like.”
And there it was.
The hook.
